


You'll Be the Death of Me

by Dominikki644



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Romance, Draco Malfoy Has a Sibling, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Forbidden Love, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Malfoy Family-centric (Harry Potter), Moral Dilemmas, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romeo and Juliet References, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:48:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 106
Words: 709,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25824622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominikki644/pseuds/Dominikki644
Summary: AU. OC: Graces Malfoy, Draco's twin sister. Neville, with his usual bad luck, ends up partners with Graces Malfoy for Herbology, just after landing her father in Azkaban, after the Ministry ordeal. Will this partnership prove to be as awful as it sounds?  Where does love stand against family, belief, ambition, and obligation. 6th year. Originally on FFN, now updated on Ao3 per requests.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 110
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been writing this fic on fanfiction.net since 2013. I recently decided to post it here on AO3 as well. Some of my readers let me know they prefer this site and thought I should post here. So here it is :) I hope you all enjoy reading, I certainly have enjoyed writing this.
> 
> Also, fanart was done by Jbadgr back in 2015. She was sweet enough to make me this picture of Graces and Neville.

Neville Longbottom had definitely had better days. His first day back at Hogwarts for his 6th year had already started off poorly. First, Professor Snape had decided to immediately humiliate him in front of the whole class. They hadn't even had their first assignment when he narrowed his eyes and asked how he was still able to be in his class. All Neville could do was stammer. Thankfully, Hermione had spoken up and told the professor that Neville had indeed passed his Potions OWL and was therefore eligible to continue taking the class. Snape was far from pleased with that information and proceeded to make his time in class even more miserable. Not only did he take points away from Gryffindor house, as usual, he then stood behind him and Hermione for the rest of the class, just watching. It was nerve wracking, having the potions master stare him down as he worked, smirking or making a tutting noise every few minutes.

He was becoming increasingly more and more nervous with each second that passed until he could no longer concentrate and his hands began to shake, which, of course, resulted in him accidentally knocking over an ingredient, spilling much more than instructed into the cauldron. Obviously, this was not supposed to happen because the potion began to fizz and bubble violently and the class had to be evacuated, as it was to explode. It was not the first time this had happened to Neville. He was already embarrassed enough, but then to top it off Snape demanded that he spent the rest of the majority of the morning cleaning up the mess he'd made, which meant the entire potions classroom, while Snape glared at him from behind his desk.

Then there were the Malfoys. Neville should have expected Draco to make his life a living hell after the ordeal at the ministry, but he honestly wasn't that worried about it because he felt that Draco could not be any more horrid to him than he already was. He was wrong. Draco Malfoy now was taking every chance he could get to make Neville feel not only emotional, as was his specialty before, but now physical pain. He went out of his way in the halls to shove him or hex his bag open spilling its contents in the middle of a busy, crowded corridor. Now he couldn't use the loo around the school because if any other Slytherin boys saw him alone they would jump him, beating on his chest and stomach until they were so black and blue he could barely breathe. They didn't dare hit him anywhere visible and he couldn't stand the thought of telling anyone and becoming even more pathetic than he usually was considered. He silently wished he was more like his father, a true Gryffindor. If he was anything like him, then he would have done something ages ago to get Draco Malfoy off his back. No one was ever surprised about his father being a Gryffindor, but the whole school, even after six years, still doubted if the hat placed him in the right house.

Then there was the other Malfoy, the one who watched with cold eyes, as she just stood there while her twin taunted him. Graces Malfoy. Neville wondered if she did it because she felt that what Draco was doing was enough torment for the both of them or maybe she just found it uninteresting. Then again, Graces Malfoy always seemed to keep her hands clean from dirty work. He had never once heard her even speak out of class. She was a silent presence by her brother's side. She would occasionally smirk at the comments he'd make and could be seen daily talking with other Slytherins in the halls and at meals, that famous Malfoy sneer on her face as Pansy Parkinson whispered the latest gossip in her ears. Graces Malfoy was a silent mystery to the school. There was no denying she was a beautiful girl, but she was very unapproachable and, of course, a Malfoy. Those two things alone kept any suitors other than Slytherins away. He couldn't help but be more frightened of the female version of Draco though, something told him that, like with plants, the silent beauty was more dangerous.

Neville was lost in thought, wondering about what Graces Malfoy had in store for him. He was so deep in thought, in fact, that he almost walked straight into the very Slytherin girl he was thinking about. Graces Malfoy was clutching her books tightly to her chest and standing completely still in front of Neville's taller frame. The Gryffindor didn't know what to do as he just stood there, gawking at her, waiting for her to pull out her wand and hex him into the hospital wing. But she didn't. She just stood there, her cold gray eyes boring into Neville's bewildered ones. He eventually realized at what close proximity they were standing and awkwardly took a sudden step back. If this had been anyone else he would have babbled apologies, but he couldn't find anything to say to the Malfoy girl standing before him.

Her face held absolutely no emotions. Neville thought that any movement on her face may cause it to crack, it looked so much like stilled porcelain. Her frigid stare was beginning to make him more anxious with every second. He was sure that she was about to unleash an arsenal of hurt on him he almost flinched a bit in anticipation, but she never did. She held his steady gaze for one more moment and then just walked to the door gracefully and exited the castle, heading to the greenhouse. Their strange gaze had ended as suddenly as it had begun. He stood still a few moments, unable to believe his luck at running into a Malfoy and escaping without a single bruise or insult, before cautiously making his way over to the greenhouse.

When Neville entered Greenhouse four, which was reserved for advanced herbology, he noted that Malfoy was already at the very front of the class. He watched the back of her head for a moment before taking a seat with Hermione, who was already writing notes on a piece of parchment, detailing things from their book.

"Malfoy two is in this class. You know she is the only Slytherin that is taking advanced Herbology and she is also the only one that is awful at it. I have no idea why she even bothers," Hannah Abbott said, taking a seat to the left of Neville.

"She must not be that bad if she is able to take this course," Hermione stated, not bothering to look up from her parchment.

"Or Daddy paid her way in," Hannah retorted.

"Professor Sprout wouldn't allow such a thing," Neville stated firmly, "If she is in this class it is because she passed her OWLs for it."

"I don't see how she could have. Neville, you're in here all the time, surely you have seen how much she struggled with each and every project she's had."

Neville couldn't refute that; multiple times he had walked into the greenhouse and seen the blonde struggling to keep her plant alive. If the plant wasn't trying to attack her, it was wilting away into nothing. It was lucky for her that Parkinson was usually able to save said plant every time.

"Since when do you defend Malfoys, anyways?" Hannah asked skeptically.

"I'm not defending her. I am defending Professor Sprout's integrity," Neville stated, taking out his supplies while trying hard to keep a firm look even as his cheeks pinked at being so outspoken on behalf of his favorite professor. "I just don't want anyone saying Professor Sprout can be bought." Then, looking over at Hermione, he quietly added, "I think you know I would be the last person defending those two."

"They will eventually get bored with it all," Hermione reassured him sympathetically. She was aware of the situation with Neville and the Malfoys after she had caught Neville attempting to make a potion to heal his bruising. "I mean they do, after all, have other things to focus on. NEWTS are next year and they're both prefects."

"I don't know if they will," Neville groaned.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell anyone, Nev?" Hermione asked for the umpteenth time, as she put a kind hand on her friends shoulder. "I'm sure that Professor Mcgonagall could do something. I bet you could even do something," she continued encouragingly, "you stood up to Death Eaters just a few months ago, surely you can stand up to two pompous, teenage blondes."

"Two pompous, teenage blondes that are blood-related to Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange," Neville said, more to himself than the girl beside him.

Hermione just rolled her eyes and muttered something about blood not having anything to do with anything and Hannah just sighed in exasperation at Neville.

Professor Sprout started the class with her usual first day business, going over the syllabus. Everyone in the class was drowning out her prattle and looking around the greenhouse at the exotic, dangerous plants they would be allowed to handle this year. Neville was particularly excited to be working with venomous tentacula; it was extremely rare, very expensive and, most of all, temperamental. And yet it was so vital to so many medical potions. It was a necessary plant and a herbologist's dream.

"Now, if everyone could find a partner for the school year, we can begin to discuss the first of our many exciting projects."

Most people were sitting with the person they wanted to be partnered with, so it was a very quick process. Or it would have been, except that the only Slytherin in the room was sitting alone and Neville, Hermione and Hannah were the only trio sitting together.

Graces stood and looked around the room, Neville almost felt sorry that no one had seemed to want to be her partner, but in all reality he was terrified at the idea of having to be the one stuck with her.

"Not it!" Hannah and Hermione exclaimed in unison as silver eyes trailed over to their table and the young girl began to approach them.

"What?" Neville yelped, looking at both girls with wide, panicked eyes, "No way, you can't seriously mean for me to partner with her! I won't survive the term!"

"She won't want to work with me Neville and I really don't fancy being called names every day for the rest of the year," Hermione countered leaving the sandy haired boy to turn to Hannah.

"Nev," Hannah whined, "I won't pass this class with her. Hermione and you are the best in the class and she is the worst, it wouldn't be fair to partner me with her. You, however, will still manage even with her as a partner. And... well... I'm a half-blood... and you are a pure blood... she may... well... treat you better."

"Technically, I'm a 'blood traitor' which apparently is even worse, so that's not going to help me at all, and to top that off I was one of the people that landed her father in Azkaban!" Neville hissed, trying to stay quiet, his panic growing more and more, "She is going to-"

"As much as I am enjoying this utterly thrilling conversation, I am still in need of a partner," a cold voice drawled.

All three heads shot up to see the coolly composed girl in front of them. Neville gave the girls around him a dirty look before packing his things and moving around the desk to where Graces was standing. He didn't even bother to hide his disappointment at being her partner as he stood in front of her. The aristocratic blonde raised one elegant eyebrow at him before giving a single nod and walking back to her desk.

"I don't understand why you are so hostile toward me, Longbottom," Graces stated, calmly taking

her seat.

Neville didn't bother to respond to such a ridiculous statement. If Graces Malfoy wanted to mock him she very well could without any of the pleasure of his retort. He just continued to place his things on the desk before them, ignoring her.

"Well?"

Neville gritted his teeth and looked up at the Slytherin to see she looked genuinely puzzled, a small frown gracing her face as she stared at him with such intensity he just wanted to shrink.

"Y-you can't be serious."

"Do I look as though I am jesting, Longbottom?"

"No... But I realize you Malfoys combine jesting with cruelty, so I wasn't sure," Neville said bitterly, turning to face the front before he felt a frighteningly strong hand grab his arm.

"When I am being cruel you will know. Now what is it that I have done to make you act as though being partners with me will lead to your demise?" Graces whispered darkly.

Neville could not believe that, of all the people in the world, Graces Malfoy believed herself to be innocent of any offense against him. The fact that she could stand beside him and insinuate that she was undeserving of his hostility made him seethe with righteous anger.

"Well," Neville began before he could regain his temper, "your Aunt is the reason I live with my Gran, your father tried to kill me and my friends last year, oh and let's not forget the fact that your brother has made me his personal punching bag this year!"

Neville could not believe that he just said all of that to a Malfoy. He silently patted himself on the back for actually using his back bone. He almost felt smug and then he looked at Graces face.

"I believe what I asked was, what have I done, not my family. What have I done, Mr. Longbottom, to earn this treatment? Because, as far as I can see, I am the only one that is being regarded so callously, by you. I don't think you have treated anyone with such dispassion as you have done me. And for the record, I have never once called Hermione Granger a mudblood before, so I do not understand why she made the assumption that if she was my partner I would do so."

"Are you trying to say I am the one being cruel?" Neville asked in astonishment.

"You almost plow me over in the hall and then instead of apologizing like I've seen you do a thousand times in the corridors, you look at me like I'm... well... like I'm not something exactly pleasant, to say the least," Graces said, seemingly trying to regain composure and turning to face the front of the class. "Then you and your friends talk about how awful I am in this class and then you three have a discussion about how none of you want to be my partner as I am walking up to you."

Neville just sat there staring at the girl in front of him; he had never really looked at Graces Malfoy as separate from Draco Malfoy before. Like they were always one entity, kind of like the way Fred and George were.

"Are you saying I... hurt your feelings?"

That earned him a very Draco Malfoy-ish glare. "What? No, of course not. Like you have the ability to hurt me. Just forget it."

"Mr. Longbottom, Miss Malfoy, if you two are finished with your conversation, I would ask that you focus your attention back to the front of the class," Professor Sprout said loudly, earning the two students a couple chuckles from around the room.

For the remainder of the class time Neville tried to focus on what Professor Sprout was saying, but he couldn't. He felt guilty for not being more careful of Graces' feelings. He certainly didn't want to be friendly with the blonde, but was she correct in saying that he had been the cruel one? He certainly never meant to be, but, intentional or not, he knew first hand that it still stung when people were careless with your feelings.

When class was dismissed Neville watched as his partner quickly gathered her things and placed them in her rucksack, not bothering to even glance at him. He slowly put away his things as well, trying to figure out what to say to the Slytherin before she left.

"I'm sorry," Neville said quietly as Graces swung her bag over her shoulder. She paused for a moment before turning and actually looking at the sandy haired boy before her. "I...I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Graces scowled at the last statement. "You don't have the power to hurt my feelings, Longbottom."

Neville sighed in exasperation, "Then why say anything at all?"

"So you and your friends would know that you are not as noble as you think you are." With that, she turned sharply away and strode out of the classroom, leaving Neville to stand alone at his desk.

Neville left the classroom feeling awful. Had he misjudged Graces? She was right in that she had never, herself, been cruel to him, and now that he thought of it he couldn't remember a time where she had ever, herself, done anything to anyone at the school. It did seem as though everyone connected her to her family's actions. What Draco did, she was somehow involved in, what her parents did was a reflection on her character, and what her aunt did, as well. He himself had even said earlier that her mix of blood made her more of a monster than her family. Now that he thought of it, that comment was indeed unfounded and unfair and even a bit hypocritical, in a way.

"Neville," Hermione's voice broke into his thoughts as she and Hannah both joined him on the grounds after class while he made his way back to the castle, "we're really sorry. We saw you two talking and it didn't look at all pleasant. I don't know what she said to you after class, but... well... we can tell it bothered you..."

"Hermione, has she ever said or done anything cruel to you?" the sandy haired boy asked, not even acknowledging her apology.

"Her brother-"

"No, has she personally ever said anything cruel to you?"

Hermione frowned clearly unsure of where this was coming from, but after a moment she slowly shook her head. "I suppose not. She has refused my help a few times in class and once when she realized that I was the one in front of her at a drinking fountain she scowled and walked away. I suppose she'd rather be thirsty than drink from the same fountain as me."

"What are you trying to insinuate Neville? That Graces Malfoy isn't evil like the rest of her family?" Hannah asked, scowling.

"No... I... I don't know. I just... well, maybe we judged her unfairly..." Neville said shyly, not looking at either girl.

"Just because she isn't as vocal as her brother doesn't change the fact that they hold the same beliefs. She'll be a Death Eater just like her aunt, mark my words," Hannah stated passionately.

"You know," a bored voice sounded from behind the group "some would think it unwise to openly discuss someone's potential at being a Death Eater in such a public setting." Graces Malfoy was now nose to nose with Hannah, but the Hufflepuff girl stood her ground, as always unafraid of toil. "Did you know that in order to become a Death Eater you have to serve a mission involving killing someone for the Dark Lord? That being said, it may be unwise to gain attention from a person who may one day follow the Dark Lord."

"Are you threatening me, Malfoy?" Hannah asked through gritted teeth.

Graces looked into Hannah's green eyes with her cold gray ones, she seemed to be searching for something and didn't seem to mind the proximity at which she was standing near the other girl. Hannah, however, was beginning to feel uncomfortable and as unflinching as she looked, it was obvious she was holding her breath.

"Now Abbott, why would you say such a thing?" Graces asked with false innocence and surprise, "Here I am giving you very good advice, advice that may very well save you from angering the wrong person, thus saving your life and you accuse me of threatening you."

Hannah said nothing, just continued to glare at the blonde in front of her. Hermione reached out her hand and placed it on Graces shoulder only to have the girl whip it away like she had burned her.

"Do not touch me," Graces said darkly, taking a step away from Hannah finally and glaring at Hermione.

"Why? Because I'm not a pureblood like you?" Hermione asked disdainfully.

"You said it Granger, not me," the blonde said contemptuously, before disappearing to her next class.

Hannah and Hermione waited until Graces was completely out of sight before turning to Neville.

"Do you still think that we judged her unfairly?" Hannah spat.

Neville didn't answer, he listened half heartedly as the two girls talked on their way to class, hanging back a bit. His mind was still preoccupied with Graces Malfoy. He wondered if under that cold demeanor and sharp tongue, there was a girl that was hurt by what others were saying about her. If he brought it up to anyone they would probably all deem him mental and try to tell him that Malfoys didn't have feelings to hurt. And yet, he couldn't help but remember how she looked in class when she asked why she deserved such treatment. She had been cold and detached, but there was something in her eyes as she tried to describe how he looked at her in the hall. He could have sworn it was hurt; the emotion had only been on her face briefly before it fluttered away, but seeing her usually cold face exposed with such a raw emotion bothered him.

Maybe she did have all the beliefs that her brother held, but was that alone reason enough for him to behave so spitefully to her? She had the right to her beliefs just as anyone else did. And she wasn't being malicious to anyone like the rest of her family and friends; though she didn't seem to mind their cruelty. He wondered idly why she wasn't as overtly obvious with her beliefs as her brother.


	2. Chapter 2

Neville Longbottom knew he was starting to obsess over Graces Malfoy, but he couldn't seem to stop. Ever since their first conversation, he found himself wanting to know the girl, that up until this point, he had deemed as a, heartless, domineering, future death eater. Neville spent weeks contemplating the riddle that was Graces Malfoy. He watched her, with her friends in the corridors, smirking at what was being said. His eyes wandered to her in the great hall, sitting with her brother eating her meals delicately. And much to the dismay of his already bad enough potions grade, he had become mesmerized with her in potions class too. Her face tranquil as she read the directions, her hands easily moving about her desk as if without thought: cutting this, stirring that, and always at the end producing a perfect brew. She was quite amazing. Neville didn't think any person could work with such ease. He was surprised that, up until that point, he had never noticed that Graces was a very advanced witch. Her talents just were not recognized as much as Hermione's, she was smart, definitely, but it was just different. She was quiet and didn't answer questions in class often, but when she did, she answered them efficiently and always had another tidbit of information to add. Her eyes that he had always considered so cold, would light up and gleam whenever she answered a question, was working on a project, or learned a new bit of information that she found interesting.

The only class she seemed to struggle in was Herbology, and as much as she struggled, the sandy haired boy had the impression that she was enjoying herself all the same. It was like she had a switch, anytime she got near a plant she was useless. Plants to Graces Malfoy were like potions to Neville Longbottom. No matter how hard she tried, she always seemed to mess something up, causing the plant to wilt away or attack her. Even if she followed all the instructions explicitly, double and triple checking, the plants seemed to not want to cooperate with her. It was frustrating for both students, considering their grades were more heavily weighed on the practical aspect of the class.

Neville, for the past few weeks, had worked diligently alongside Graces in the greenhouse. She clearly did her reading, she understood the properties of each plant, what they needed to survive, and she even understood the Latin in the names. She also knew a decent amount of the history associated with most plants they studied. Neville silently wished she was more talkative so they could have discussions on herbology while they worked, but her callous demeanor towards him let him know that conversation wasn't welcome. Writing their paper together was the only time she really spoke, and even then it wasn't really a discussion. They would tell each other what information to add or ask that something be re-worded here or there. Yet, despite her attitude towards him, he was surprisingly at ease in her company.

It was now Saturday and Neville was sitting in the Great Hall with Dean and Seamus. Dean was explaining football to the fire prone Irish boy, while Neville listened absently. Football just seemed like a boring muggle sport in comparison to quidditch. Besides, Neville had other things on his mind; he was determined to not look over at the Slytherin table today. He had decided that he had gone beyond just being curious about the girl, to actually turning a bit creepy. He now knew how she liked her tea, that she had a major sweet tooth, and that she preferred to read during her morning breakfast, among other little tidbits about her that he'd picked up. He noticed that while Pansy and the other Slytherin girls liked to link arms while walking in the corridors, Graces preferred to walk alone. Actually, now that he thought of it, Neville realised that she didn't seem to like to be touched at all. It was as though she had an invisible bubble around her, and apparently it was well known in the Slytherin house that she enjoyed her space. This is the reason that when she did finally come in the Great hall for breakfast, with her brother's arm comfortingly around her, he no longer was able to keep his resolve not to look at her.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"It's going to be okay Graces," Draco murmured quietly as they sat down for breakfast. He debated keeping his arm around his sister's shoulder to continue comforting her, but decided that he didn't want to be like the Weasley's and baby her like the way they all did Ginny. He did, however, let her sit close enough to him so that their arms were touching. "I bet Longbottom will know exactly what to do."

"I don't want to rely on Longbottom," Graces whined huffily playing with her porridge.

"It is embarrassing isn't it? Needing Neville Longbottom for help? Sounds dreadful," Draco said teasingly as he buttered his toast.

"You are not making me feel better, Draco."

"I'm sorry, but it will be resolved. Just go talk to the dimwit before he leaves the hall and let him know you need his help."

"He's going to think I'm daft..."

"Nooo," Draco corrected, "he is going to think you are overreacting to a tiny spot on a plant."

"I am not overreacting! It could very well be the 'black death' with my luck; it's not uncommon for Hellebores to get it." Graces had now thrown her spoon down into her bowl and was breathing so heavy her nostrils flared with each intake of air. Draco took a moment to look around the Slytherin table and thanked the gods that everyone was still sleeping in. It wouldn't do to show weakness at such a crucial time. After making sure no one had noticed his sister's momentary lapse, he gently placing his hand on his sister's knee.

"Calm down," he murmured under his breath, "Finish your breakfast and walk over to the Gryffindor table. You are a Malfoy, we don't lose our composure in the face of the Dark Lord, and you certainly don't lose it over a silly plant."

The blonde girl blushed and nodded her head. Her brother was right, she was being irrational. She would just go over to Longbottom and ask him to look at the plant with her. He was, after all, her partner, and he had just as much riding on their plant as she did. It was in his best interest to look at the plant. It was her weekend to tend to it, but surely he wouldn't mind taking a quick look in case there was, in fact, a disease riddling their Hellebores. She looked up to make sure that he was still in the Great Hall, and frowned when she saw that he was watching her. He quickly looked away and then began to pack his things hurriedly, much to Graces panic.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Neville was so embarrassed; he had no idea how long Graces had noticed his gaze before he realized she was looking directly back at him. He just wanted to get out of the Great Hall as fast as he possibly could. He thought the idea of spending the rest of the afternoon in his dorm working on his potions essay was a thousand times better than being in the same room as Graces Malfoy after she had noticed him gawking at her.

He had just made it out the doors and was about to head up the main steps, when he heard a familiar voice call out from behind him.

"Longbottom! Wait!"

Neville nervously turned around to face Graces. He was sure the blonde was going to call him out on staring at her, demand to know why. She seemed to never want to talk with him unless it had to do with class or unless she felt the need to confront him about something, like the first day. However, what he saw made him furrow his brow in surprise. When he looked at Graces she didn't seem angry, she seemed flustered and embarrassed.

"I... I think we have a problem."

"A problem?" Neville asked, mortified when his voice faltered and cracked with the question. Luckily, Graces didn't seem to notice.

She stood there for a few moments, worrying her lip, a few stairs under the Gryffindor, before continuing, "I know it's my weekend to take care of our project and, well, I'm not trying to get out of that...but I noticed something on a few of our Hellebores and I think it's a disease."

"Can you describe what you noticed?" the sandy haired boy asked, crossing his arms and gazing studiously at the flustered blonde.

"Uh yes," Graces stammered taken aback by Neville's sudden shift in confidence, "I think I am noticing some browning on healthy tissue; I am worried that it may be the Black Death. That could prove fatal to our plants and I thought that maybe the ventilation in the environment might be to blame."

"How much browning are we talking about? Some browning is normal on older leaves; it's just part of the life cycle."

"Well... that's where I umm... there really isn't much, but I just would feel more comfortable if you wouldn't mind taking a quick look."

Neville nodded and began walking down the stairs and heading to the Greenhouse with Graces by his side. When they entered the Greenhouse, Neville noticed that the blonde seemed to have recollected herself.

He spent a few minutes examining the plant and checking the ventilation in the area around their project. After awhile he decided there was nothing to be worried about.

"Everything seems to be fine, there is slight browning on healthy tissue as you said, however, the area is so small it really can't be problematic. If the browning begins to spread more, and quickly, we can worry, but as of right now I don't see any reason for us to charm I put on the plant prevents aphids from getting on it and carrying lethal viruses, like the Black Death, over to it."

Neville watched as Graces fidgeted with her hands, she obviously wanted to say something more, but was holding herself back. He wasn't sure if he should press her to go ahead and speak freely or wait. In the end she just nodded, much to his disappointment.

"Malfoy, if you don't believe that my diagnosis is right you can tell me. I won't be offended, just tell me why you think I'm wrong and we can talk about it."

Graces seemed hesitant, but finally nodded. "I... I'm sort of a jinx when it comes to plants. I can do everything right and they just seem to die... attack me, or on prominent occasion do both. Pansy was a great partner because she usually took care of the plants with me. I never had to do it alone and that usually helped the plants and thus our grade. I honestly mostly watched and did the minimal interaction with them as possible. Of course I wrote most of the papers to make up for it, I would never not pull my own weight. Anyways, my point is that plants and I do not mix well. I know that there is no real reason for me to feel like our plant is dying, but based on my history with plants, I sound mad, but it's how it is. You haven't been partners with me long enough to know. You and your friends are right I am absolutely awful at herbology, but my father did NOT buy my way into this class. I earned my way in. Despite my handicap with plants I am very knowledgeable, and I realize and am sorry that I have taken up your Saturday morning, but I don't think I can take care of a plant with no supervision for a whole weekend. I will gladly work with you in watering and caring for it if you give me times to meet you, but, I think, if you leave me to do it alone we will both fail this course."

If Hannah or Hermione would have been standing before him, he would have laughed at this little rant and told them they were overreacting. He would have told them that getting this worked up over some slightly browning leaves was ridiculous, and insisted they go up to the castle and get some much needed rest. He was glad that Graces at least was not crying like some girls would be with this; she just seemed embarrassed, flustered, and frustrated all at once. It was almost endearing to see her being so human. It was hard to believe this was the same frigid girl he had been around for the past six years.

"Malfoy," Neville did his best to try and hide his amusement from the worked up blond, "I only suggested that we work separately because I thought you would prefer it. I didn't think you wanted to work in such close proximity with me for more than you were required to. I honestly was planning on checking on the plants this weekend anyways. After all, I am always in here helping Professor Sprout and working on my own projects. I don't mind meeting with you over the weekend to tend to our project."

"You don't mind. Really?" Graces asked dubiously.

"No, not at all," Neville said, "and also, I know you are knowledgeable about plants and I never thought your father bought your way in this class." He gave her a small, but genuine smile.

The Slytherin girl just stared at the boy in front of her, looking for signs of deceit, before giving a quick nod and returning back to her original frosty demeanor. Neville took that as his cue to take leave and began walking out of the greenhouse.

"I'll come by after lunch to check on the spots!" he called over his shoulder hoping that would at least sooth some of the girl's nerves.

She didn't answer back; he supposed a comment wasn't really necessary, he was walking away. He couldn't help leaving feeling a little happy about his encounter with her. He felt like he just saw a small glimpse of what she was like under that aristocratic, pure blood mask, of hers. She seemed so much more human to him. He realized that was a silly thing to think, but he was sure others must have felt the same about her. She seemed so emotionless most of the time, even when she was angry her face remained cold and her eyes reserved, which can actually be terribly frightening. Last year, he would have thought Graces Malfoy incapable of becoming flustered, which was something reserved for people like him who were already uncomfortable in their own skin, not people like Graces Malfoy, who walked through a crowded noisy hall and somehow had the ability to, without saying a word, part the sea of people, and walk through completely untouched.

The rest of Neville's afternoon seemed boring in comparison to this morning. He played a few games of exploding snaps with Harry and Ron, worked on a potions essay with a, thankfully, very patient Hermione and then before he knew it, it was time for lunch.

Neville, for the first time in weeks, did not stare over at the Slytherin table at Graces, because Graces was not there for him to stare at. He wondered where she could possibly be. Draco and all the other Slytherins were accounted for, so she was must have been alone. Neville couldn't think of a single person from another house she would be with.

"Something the matter Nev?" Ginny asked, helping herself to the plate of sandwiches in front of her.

"No, why?"

"You just seem distracted is all," Ginny shrugged.

"Yeah, come to think of it you were really distracted when we were working on your essay," Hermione chimed in placing her charms book down on the table, "It was as if you weren't listening to me at all, at some points. You were worse than Ron and Harry on a quidditch day. Usually I don't have to repeat myself to you."

Neville blushed and apologized to Hermione for not being as attentive. He really did appreciate that she helped him with potions and felt badly that he had not been paying close enough attention. Hermione just waved her hand, like the apology was completely unnecessary, before narrowing her eyes and demanding to know what was distracting him.

Neville was not about to tell Ginny or Hermione what was really going on in his head so he decided to tell them half the truth instead. "Well... You see Malfoy-"

"Of course it would be a Malfoy! What did that git do now?" Ginny asked affronted.

"No... Not Draco, and-"

"Is Graces Malfoy giving you problems Nev?" Hermione asked concerned, "Because if that is so, I am sure Professor Sprout would let you switch partners or work alone. You are her favorite."

"Graces Malfoy has not done a single thing," Neville defended, looking over at his friends imploringly for them to believe him, "She just told me this morning that she is worried about some browning on our plants. I checked it and didn't see anything to worry about, but I guess I just keep thinking about it."

"I'm sure even if there was something wrong you could handle it, Neville," Hermione said matter of factly, "If this was a potion you were brewing I would understand your apprehension, but you are quite the genius when it comes to herbology."

Neville blushed bashfully at the compliment, before awkwardly excusing himself from the table. He headed over to the Greenhouse to check on the plants, wondering if Malfoy would be meeting him there. As he walked to the back, where their plant was, he was surprised to see that not only was she there, it looked as though she never left.

She was sitting at a small desk with parchment and books from her other classes sprawled before her and tea pot along with cooling a cup of tea set to the side. The plants were right at her desk, where she could look up at them whenever she wanted. She was currently reading a chapter for their History of Magic class that they would not be covering for another week. She didn't seem to notice his presence though, she just continued to read, wisps of her platinum hair falling delicately as she sucked on her sugar quill, pausing once in awhile to make a quick note here or there on a piece of parchment. She looked so lovely and peaceful he forgot for a moment who exactly she was; it was hard to think of this angelic creature, that had a soft expression on her face, as her eyes danced across text, as the same stony faced girl he saw in the corridors.

And then, as though she sensed that she was no longer alone, she looked up and those soft eyes and sweet face were replaced at once with cold ones and a rigid, domineering mask. She sat there for a moment, not moving from her seat, still slightly leaning on the desk, before slowly bringing herself upright.

"Do you always stare Longbottom?" she sneered, "I suppose if I was always in the company of Gryffindors, I would forget manners as well."

Neville pinked slightly before stumbling through an apology, which Graces just rolled her eyes at and ignored.

"The browning has not spread, you were correct when you said it was nothing."

Neville nodded awkwardly, "Have... have you been here all day?"

"The day is not over, so clearly not," Graces replied icily, "I have finished our paper on the medicinal uses of Hellebore. If you would like, you can review it and add anything you wish, but I believe it is more than sufficient."

Neville frowned, "I would have helped you write that."

The blonde girl in front of him just shrugged and handed him the parchment. Neville looked down at the elegantly penned script and couldn't think of anything to add. He stood there reading it for a few minutes before sighing and handing it back.

"I really wish you wouldn't have done all of the work. I don't even feel right putting my name on this now."

"Gryffindor nobility," Graces scoffed as she looked back down at her book.

Neville knew that he had been dismissed, but couldn't seem to leave. He was angry that she had done that whole paper. They were supposed to be partners in this assignment, he could have easily wrote the whole paper himself as well, but hadn't so that she could be involved. They were now already doing the active work with the plant together. He felt useless and this was the one class he had where he was far from.

"I like doing well in this class. I like that for one class I am not dimwitted, helpless Neville Longbottom that everyone refers to as barely a wizard. I enjoy getting my paper back with good marks when I barely had to try to write it and working in the practical aspect of the class with no help from Hermione. And you... you, ugh."

"I what?" Graces asked coldly, now staring at the boy in front of her shutting her book.

Neville faltered from his rant at the frosty look he was getting. "Nothing... Never mind."

"Come come Longbottom, it would appear that you have developed a spine, and I am very interested in how you were going to finish that sentence."

"You took that away from me!" Neville blurted out unable to stop himself. He felt like a child throwing a temper tantrum and looked away in embarrassment, before quickly leaving the greenhouse.

Neville lay staring up at his the ceiling from his bed. He had been laying there for hours upon hours, brooding. He didn't even bother to go to dinner, he was still so angry. So now there he was, in the middle of the night, frustrated over Graces Malfoy. He had, for weeks, been trying to find redeeming qualities in a girl, that seemed to have none. He felt so naïve. Maybe he just saw what he wanted to see in her. It wasn't like she was ever kind or gentle. It's because she is pretty. I must have just given her the halo effect; I probably just didn't want to think that such a beauty could turn into ugly when she opens her mouth. Now he just felt stupid and vain. He hated how cutting her words were to him. If anything, they felt more hurtful than the nastier things Draco would say and do to him. It wasn't like the ways the others would call him spineless and taunt him, it was different. She didn't use her words to hurt him, instead she would say much less meaningful words, she could really be saying anything, but say it in such a way that every word she delivered cut, like a real pain. The chilling look in her eyes was enough to make anyone squirm, to say the least.

He began to feel restless. He was tired, but unable to find sleep, and listening to the peaceful snores from the rest of his dorm mates was just making him feel more disgruntled, when usually he would've found it to be soothing. He finally decided to just go to the greenhouse; he would have spent the day in there working with plants if he didn't think Graces was going to stay there all day. He loved working with plants, it was relaxing, in a way. It always seemed to calm him down, let him think more clearly. The whole reason why he never brooded was because he usually had the greenhouse as an outlet. It was well past curfew, but he felt it would be worth a detention if he could just make it there. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were always about the castle past curfew and they never seemed to have trouble; he just prayed that some of their luck had rubbed off on him.

Neville breathed in a sigh of relief when he made it past Mrs. Norris and into the greenhouse. He decided it best not to turn on any lights; the moon was out tonight and there was plenty of light for him to work with. He started walking over to the back of the room to check on his plant and almost jumped out of his skin to find someone was already there.

"Hullo Longbottom," Graces giggled sitting on a blanket with a bottle of firewhisky clutched in her hands.

"Malfoy?! WH-what are you doing here?" he whispered urgently.

"Drinking," Graces said simply taking another swig from the bottle and grimacing at the burning strength.

"I can see that," he said annoyed, but then asked astonished, "are...are you drunk?"

"Hmmmm I think I am. Just a little bit though. Would you care for some?" Graces asked politely, holding the bottle up.

"Uh..."

"Oh come now, Longbottom. I do hate drinking alone," she insisted, reminding Neville of Hermione when she wanted company in the library.

"Wouldn't you rather drink with... well... um, your friends?"

Graces just laughed melodically. "Well I didn't want to drink with Pansy because whenever I do, she just starts going on and on about how sexy Draco is and how she would give her whole vault in Gringotts to have just one night with him," Graces wrinkled her nose and cringed, "Not really something a sister wants to hear. I love drinking with Blaize, you know Zambini, but unfortunately for me, he turned in early tonight. And, oh, I just can't stand drinking with the other girls in my house; they can't hold their liquor at all. Millicent doesn't fancy drinking. She doesn't like not being in control, you see. It's a Slytherin thing. None of us drink often. I can't drink with the other boys in my house because they will just try to get in my knickers, but you won't will you Longbottom?" Graces winked, "It's all against your Gryffindor nobility right? Can't take advantage of intoxicated girls. I bet you still wouldn't do it even if you had one right there in your bed begging you to take her would you?" Her words were beginning to slur and she hiccuped.

Neville blushed and decided to ignore the question. "What about your brother?"

Graces smile faltered for a moment and took a large swig of the amber liquid she was holding. "Draco is the reason I am drinking," she said sadly looking down into the bottle.

Neville could never fully understand why he did it, maybe it was because he wanted to see more of smiling happy Graces Malfoy, or maybe it was because he couldn't stand how small she looked, sitting on the ground sadly, at the mention of her brother, but he sat down next to her and took the bottle in his hands and took a slow and deliberate swig. The fire whisky burned going down his throat and he coughed and sputtered, but when he looked up, Graces was smiling radiantly at him and he felt his heart flutter and he knew it wasn't the whisky's doing.

"See Longbottom, the world didn't end because you had a drink with a Malfoy," she said nudging her shoulder into him playfully.

"Who would have thought Malfoys made such happy drunks," Neville teased.

"Well," Graces whispered excitedly "it is one of our best kept family secrets."

"Is it now?" Neville whispered back continuing the play.

"Yes, you should be much honored that I want to drink with you Mr. Longbottom," Graces laughed taking another swig.

Neville chuckled at that statement before asking playfully, "And how exactly was I deemed so worthy of such a privilege?"

Graces shrugged, "I like you well enough to enjoy your company, even if you are a blood traitor."

Neville's eyebrows about shot up to his hairline at that statement, "You enjoy my company? You must be more drunk than I thought."

Graces just laughed at the boy's expression, "I am probably more drunk than you thought, but I do enjoy your company. I'm secretly very happy that we're partners in herbology, at first I was glad because you are a genius. When it comes to the practical part of the subject and I am horrid, unlike you, but I must admit, you have grown on me Longbottom."

"Well," Neville began astonished, "I would have never guessed that. You sure don't act like you like me."

"Come on, Longbottom! I can't very well act like I enjoy your company can I? You still are a blood traitor and a Gryffindor. And in case you haven't noticed, I am not about wearing my emotions on my sleeve, buuuuut I like you. You are able to hold an intelligent conversation and aren't pushy or too talkative.... And well... I appreciate that you... cared? ... yes, cared that you hurt my feelings."

"So, I did hurt your feelings?" Neville asked quietly.

Graces smiled softly, "Well despite the rumors, I am not made out of stone."

"I...I am sorry for that."

Graces waved her hands dismissively, "Nothing I haven't heard before. I'm a Slytherin, we're a tough house. No one likes us," She then became quiet for a moment, "I'm sorry for earlier by the way. I had done the paper to thank you, I didn't think about how much you liked working on papers."

"To thank me? For what?"

Graces blushed a pretty shade of pink. "You know for helping me with the plant, being willing to deal with me on your weekend. I know I was being rather ... well I wasn't behaving as a Malfoy should."

Neville smiled, he hadn't thought that Graces had done the assignment to thank him.

"Longbottom, you really need to drink more, being drunk alone isn't nearly as fun. And I am very curious as to what kind of drunk you are."

Neville took a few generous swigs at the blonde's command, before handing the bottle back.

"I have no clue what kind of drunk I am," the sandy haired boy stated, leaning back on a sack of soil, "I've never been drunk before."

"You're kidding," Graces said skeptically, "I hear you Gryffindors have giant parties every time you beat us at a quidditch match."

"Yes, but I don't get sloshed at them."

"Why?"

"I don't know... I don't want to embarrass myself anymore than I already do on a regular basis."

Graces giggled at his confession. "I suppose that makes sense."

"Does Slytherin have parties together?"

"Not really. None of us are usually willing to let our guard down in front of the whole house like that. We did drink all of us together last year when you noble lot went to the Ministry, but... we weren't drinking to have a party. It definitely was not fun like parties should be. We just... we were all so worried you know? Scared for our parents and all. Say what you will about the Slytherin house, but when it counts we stand together. We just drank and waited for news. We even let the first years drink, figured they should be allowed to drown their worries as well. Snape was great; he came in and ignored the bottles delivered the news and left. We all made makeshift beds and just slept together in a great mass in the middle of the floor. Then when morning came, everyone was tactful enough to pretend nothing had happened."

Neville sat silently, he had never considered what it was like for the children of death eaters. He imagined first years crying curled up in older years arms as the older ones tried to look strong, while, in reality, they were just as scared, just as worried, and hurting just as much. He wondered if Graces held any frightened children, she was a prefect after all, or if she and Draco curled up in a corner and sought comfort in one another. Maybe it was a combination of both. He knew what he did in the ministry was the right thing; he didn't regret putting her father in jail and fighting him, her aunt, and the other death eaters, but he did feel a new found pity for the children of those individuals. He wondered how Graces reacted when Snape told her and Draco that their father was going to Azkaban; how she felt going home for the summer and not having him there.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't apologize for things that are not your fault, Longbottom, it's beneath you. You did what you thought was right and my father did the same. He got caught and a jury sentenced him; the only thing you did was fight him in the Ministry where he ambushed you."

"Your brother doesn't seem to feel that way."

"Draco is... dealing with things that ... well... Draco is under a lot of pressure at the moment. And... well he blames you lot..." Graces was quiet for awhile taking slow sips from the bottle clearly lost in some memory. "The Dark Lord punished him for our father's failure."

Neville stared at Graces, horrified by her last statement. He couldn't even fully process what that meant. "Why are you telling me this?"

Graces looked up with her sad eyes that had begun to glisten with unwept tears. "I don't know. Maybe because I am drunk, scared, and have no one I really can tell. Or maybe it's because you have kind eyes and I know you won't tell anyone no matter what. I... I don't know, but I know I want to forget all of that right now. So please just drink and help me forget."

Neville did as he was told and racked his mind for a change of subject. A way to get the vibrant girl he had witnessed back.

"Why are you taking herbology? No offense, but you don't strike me as the gardening type."

"No offense taken at all. I have to take this class in order to get into a healer program."

"I didn't know you wanted to be a healer."

Graces giggled, "Well of course you wouldn't, how would you?"

"Healer Malfoy... It does have a ring to it."

"Doesn't it!? I've wanted to be a healer ever since I can remember, father doesn't want me to be, he would rather me and Draco took over the family business together. He thinks it is below me."

Neville laughed at that statement. "Below you? My gran would die of joy if I went home and told her I was going to be a healer or an auror. She isn't big on me being a herbologist."

"Really?" The blonde asked astonished, "You could make a good living being a herbologist. Start a business with exotic plants and sell them to medicinal potions companies. You're very good, better than Professor Sprout; you could easily have a successful business and become a wealthy man."

"If there was any doubt in my mind as to why you were sorted into Slytherin, you just obliviated it Miss. Malfoy. I never even thought of having my very own business."

"Well you should, Longbottom. You know if you adopt any Slytherin ideals, it should be our ambition," she looked up at Neville critically for a few moments before continuing, "or maybe it should be our confidence and ability to not jump into a dangerous situation without a plan."

"Plans? Ha! Who needs plans? We mighty Gryffindors don't need such things! Why rely on a plan, when you can just continue to rely on miracles?" Neville joked, warmly playing off his house's stereotype.

Graces rolled her eyes. "Gryffindors, brave to the point of stupidity. You know your miracles will run out eventually and then where will you be? Dead."

Neville took another swig, ignoring that his mind already felt cloudy as it was, and leaned closer to the girl sitting next to him. "Will you cry at my funeral Miss Malfoy?"

Graces scoffed and pushed him away playfully, "Why would I cry at a blood traitor's funeral? And why in the name of Merlin would I be attending one in the first place?"

"Ah, but you already admitted that you enjoyed my company, despite the fact that I am a blood traitor," Neville teased passing the bottle over.

Graces ignored him and just downed more of the bottle. "I'm drunk. I can't be held responsible for what I say," she finally said offhandedly, as Neville stared at her in amusement, "Stop smirking Longbottom it doesn't suit you. Gryffindors don't smirk."

"Yes well, Gryffindors also do not get sloshed with Slytherins, but that didn't stop me."

Graces giggled and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "I bet I can name some of your precious Gryffindor boys that wouldn't mind drinking with me."

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that he was a hot blooded teenage boy, but the Neville looked at the girl next to him and couldn't help but see that she was breathtaking. Graces Malfoy was a stunningly beautiful girl there was no denying that, and Neville was not dim enough to have not noticed that fact before this impromptu meeting. She had seductively, full pink lips that any man would have loved to devour passionately in dark corners of the castle. Long, waist length golden hair, so light it was practically white, and was purer than sunlight, as it framed around a delicate collarbone. She had figure that, even covered under a school uniform, couldn't hide its perfection. Yet, even with all that, there were no words in the world to describe how radiantly beautiful she was when she was smiling.

Neville leaned over so that his lips were mere inches away from the blonde's, "Who said I minded?"

And before she could retort, he brought his lips down onto hers and was surprised when her lips parted, immediately, and she pulled him in closer.


	3. Chapter 3

If someone had told Neville that he would ever kiss Graces Malfoy, he would have taken them to Madam Pomphrey, insisting that they had been badly confunded. Yet, there he was kissing Graces Malfoy and he could not remember a time where he felt more incredible; the first time he did magic, getting his Hogwarts letter, being placed in Gryffindor, being awarded the winning house points first year, and so goes on the list. Nothing could top the feelings he was experiencing now. Nothing could beat kissing Graces, because kissing Graces was a whole different kind of magic.

He didn't know why, maybe it was how sweet her lips tasted, how soft her skin was, or maybe it was how delicious she smelled, but something about the girl in his arms made him forget everything. He was so lost in the sea of sensations, that was Graces, and in that abyss of pleasure that only she could cause. He forgot himself. He didn't feel awkward in his own skin or have the need to overthink himself. He, for once in his life, felt comfortable in his own skin, and was not worrying about what others did or thought. It was only him and Graces in that moment together. Even his magic moved under his skin animatedly, as though it had never been truly awaken before, and all from the simple act of pressing his dry lips to her soft ones.

When they finally did break apart, their chests both heaving from the exhilaration, their faces flushed with emotions they had both never experienced, they just sat there, inches apart, just gazing into each other's eyes for what felt like hours. Her pupils were so dilated that you could barely see her grey irises, and he realized he probably looked the same. Neville would never in his lifetime be able to say who moved first, it could have been him, Graces, or both of them, but before either of them knew what was happening, they were rolling on the floor of the greenhouse kissing each other, again, with such passion and intensity that both were becoming more and more undone.

Neville didn't know or care about when his night robe had been removed and he shivered with pleasure as Graces hands snaked underneath his night shirt. He moved to be more on top of her, not knowing when he had become so daring. Maybe it was the whiskey or maybe it was just testosterone, either way, but he didn't care, all he could think about was her. He couldn't remember ever wanting anyone more than he wanted the girl currently underneath him. He brought his lips down onto her elegant neck and ravished every sensitive spot he could find, causing Graces to quietly moan with pleasure as he continued to use his lips and tongue to explore her body. Neville, until this point in his life, had never realized a simple sound could affect him so much physically.

As Graces continued pulling him into her, winding her slender fingers through his hair, and holding him close, Neville in the back of his mind, realized that he had never once felt he needed to touch someone, this way, not really. It had never been something he had put priority in, even when the other boys in his dormitories would talk about it. He never really was that interested, but now he felt as though it was essential to his livelihood to be as close to Graces as humanly possible. He was burning with the desire to feel her skin on his, to make her feel as hopelessly lost in pleasure as he currently was.

His hands fumbled with the buttons on her blouse as he persistently kissed her breathlessly. Every touch, kiss, taste, sensation didn't feel like it was enough to sooth the fire that was now raging inside of him, and judging by the way Graces was wiggling beneath him tugging at his shirt to come off, it wasn't for her either. He had known what he wanted and where all of this was heading, but it wasn't until he ran his hand down her naval lower, caressing her to the point where he was right between her legs, and had touched her most private area, feeling her arousal as she convulsed slightly around his finger, did it all become real to him.

"Wait," Neville panted, pulling himself off the one person in the world he desired most, "you're drunk... I'm drunk. Maybe... maybe this isn't the best of ideas."

Graces stared at him. She stared at him like she was just now starting to truly see him. It made his skin prickle and his heart flutter. He was so much more exposed to her now than he had been all the other times, and the vulnerability was beginning to weigh on him. She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head slightly. He felt like he should say something, explain further, but then Graces sat up and without a word she finished removing her blouse and slowly removed her bra, never taking her silver eyes off the boy in front of her. Neville groaned despondently as Graces' breasts didn't move a bit without the lack of support. It took every bit of self-restraint on his part to not throw proprietary to the wind and take her right there.

He closed his eyes and took a few long breaths to regain his chain of thought. "We can't. We have to-"

Neville didn't have the opportunity to finish his sentence. He heard a hiccup of a sob and looked over to see Graces clutching her mouth, desperately trying not to cry. If ever there was a site more sad, yet beautiful, it was of Graces weeping naked on the floor of the greenhouse. She looked like an angel who had lost her wings. Broken on the floor, but still lovely even in shatters. Finally, she looked up from her open palms, her clouded, liquid mercury eyes, glistening with restrained tears, as the moonlight danced along her body, making him believe that, for a moment, that she truly was a divine being that had fallen from grace.

"Please Longbottom," she said in the most desperate of whispers, that caused Neville to reach out towards her and pull her into him comfortingly.

"I.. I can't," Neville whispered gently, almost wistful, "it wouldn't be right."

Graces curled into him and wept, "I just need to forget, just for a little while, just for one night. I need to forget." When she looked up at him, Neville saw her tears falling against her cheek before cascading down onto his chest; each drop that hit against him giving testimony to her pain. Pain he didn't know the source of, pain so complicated that he couldn't comprehend, and pain that he knew she would never give him reason to. All she was willing to accept from him was physical comfort. He wished that she could cry into his chest and tell him all of her worldly woes, but he knew she wouldn't.

He, still unsure of what to do, leaned forwards and kissed her forehead, cheek, chin, ear, trying to comfort her, trying to give her what she wanted, without taking advantage of her. Then, he finally found her lips but he kissed her so softly, so gently, deciding to give her anything she asked of him, but to do it in a caring manner, neither pushing nor denying her. He gently tightened his arms around her small form and kissed her in ways that he prayed gave her comfort and made her feel secure. He kissed her slowly leaving the lustful passion out and replacing it with gentle affection, before tenderly laying her back down. She timidly began removing the rest of her clothes as Neville did the same. He never took his eyes off hers though; he kept searching for any hint of hesitation. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was filled with a million different feelings, all at once. He couldn't believe this was happening, that this was real. He was terrified and overjoyed at the same time.

He looked down at the porcelain skin, before him running his hand gently over her, "As soft as rose petals" he quietly whispered more to himself than the girl lying before him, but she heard and was blushing nervously. He positioned himself to her side propping himself on his arm to look down at her. "I..I've never..."

Graces blushed a deeper shade of pink and looked away. "Me neither..."

"I feel like I'm taking advantage of you," he said softly caressing her cheek and turning her to face him.

Her gray eyes looked imploringly up at him. "You're not though. I want this, with you."

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Everything in Graces head was screaming that this was a bad idea. Neville Longbottom was a Gryffindor, a blood traitor, friend/dorm mate of Harry Potter, had made his allegiance known when he battled in the Ministry, had aided in catching her father and sending him to Azkaban, and that was without mentioning that he was the school idiot. Yet, despite how many times she reminded herself of all those things, she didn't care. Her world was falling apart everywhere she turned, her father was in Azkaban, her family were no longer in Voldemort's exclusive group of only his closest followers, which they had given so much to be a part of, her mother was so distraught she barely knew what to do, and her brother was being forced to do a task that the Dark Lord knew he was destined to fail. Draco was going to die this year, and there was nothing she could do. That was the greatest punishment for her father's failure. It was always weighing on her mind that she was going to lose everyone she held dear, in this war. The only way she saw that she could have her family back, was for Draco to succeed at his mission putting their family back in Voldemort's inner circle as he rose to power, then all the death eaters being released from Azkaban, giving her father back.

She wished countless times a day that she was someone else. Someone that could just break down and cry her eyes out and be comforted. Someone who could hold tight to her brother and beg him not to do what needed to be done, so they could just run away from this nightmare and never look back. But she wasn't someone else. She was a Malfoy, and as a Malfoy she would hold strong against this storm until the winds broke her, so that she could no longer stand tall against them. Draco would die trying to save them, just as she would stand beside him until the bitter end.

She however, despite her best efforts to be strong, felt herself breaking to the point where she decided that tonight she did needed to break down. So she finished her perfect rounds for the night and snuck into the greenhouse to enjoy a night of drinking. She had been drinking for well over an hour when she heard the greenhouse door open and Neville Longbottom showed up.

If she had been sober when Longbottom had arrived, she would have demanded he leave hours ago; she would have seen that being alone with him drinking in the middle of the night was a horrible idea. She already knew that being around him was not good for her. She wanted desperately to push him away, to be awful towards him so that he would stop looking at her with those kind, compassionate eyes that made her think she was safe. Feeling safe with Neville Longbottom was the sort stupidity that could get her killed.

That thought alone should have kept her from being friendly towards the boy, but Graces couldn't bring herself to feel wary in Neville's presence. If her initial plan would have ensued she would have drank until she blacked out; she would have gotten a night's rest without nightmares of her family and her being tortured. No matter what she did, it was always on her mind: when she got dressed, did her homework, ate, was with friends, or slept, she was always haunted by her fears and always unable to show it. And then Longbottom showed up and for a moment it was all placed in the back of her head, not a loud presence that she had to ignore, it was truly placed in the back of her thoughts. And all she seemed able to focus on was that this boy, that, in her six years of Hogwarts, that was always there, but she never truly noticed, was no longer the puggy pureblood that could barely carry on a sentence without stuttering like a blubbering idiot. And if she was honest with herself, which she rarely was when it came to this subject, she hadn't though it him in that way for a long while. His baby fat was slowly leaving him and he even seemed to hold his head up higher than before, though he still, for the most part, tried not to be seen. She was unsure of when she started looking at Neville, but the fact remained she had been looking, and soon after looking came noticing. She realized his features becoming more and more defined, less awkward, and more handsome. He was still by no means handsome enough to turn heads, but she saw that there was the potential for that, buried just under the surface. She could no longer deny it, and despite how many times she reminded herself who he was, and who she was, when he kissed her all remaining thoughts of logic left her and there was just him.

Nothing in the world could have prepared her for what happened when Neville's lips touched hers. All at once nothing mattered anymore. All that mattered was how glorious he made her feel and how magnificent he tasted. All sense of reality melted away. No one had ever kissed her like this, with so much passion and ferocious need; he didn't just kiss her like he wanted to claim her, he kissed her like he needed her, like she was the only witch in his world for him. For some reason or another, she had been kissing him in much the same manner.

And so here she was, lying naked on the ground, with Neville Longbottom, but she didn't feel vulnerable or scared. How could she with the way he was caressing her skin like he was trying to memorize every inch of it with touch alone? Or when he was kissing her like she was the most precious thing in the world, and looking at her as though she was the Gods' gift to humanity?

Graces closed her eyes in anticipation as she felt his hand move to go between her legs; her skin prickling in excitement as Neville continued to kiss her neck softly. Then suddenly, Neville moved lower so that he was caressing her breast with his lips, letting his tongue dance wickedly on her awakened nipples as his fingers finally found their way to her sex. She couldn't stop herself from moaning endlessly as his hands and tongue made her desperate to have him inside her. "You are exquisite Miss. Malfoy," he moaned huskily, "I just want to taste every inch of you." And the Gryffindor, to Graces' great pleasure, proceeded to do just that; Neville was kissing between her breasts, letting his tongue trail down to her naval, planting open mouth kisses on her ribs, before nibbling gently on her hips.

Between the ways he was devouring her body and what his hands were doing between her legs Graces was on the edge. She could feel her climax coming on, her muscles inside her tightening around his fingers, and the heat spreading like wildfire through her blood. And then to her great frustration, he stopped.

"Please. Don't stop," Graces whimpered, praying desperately that he hadn't changed his mind; that he hadn't realized that this was a mistake.

Neville just chuckled and gently started kissing the inside of her leg nibbling every once in a while as he continued to trail up. Graces realized, horrified, what he was about to do.

"No!" Graces exclaimed mortified beyond reason. "You can't."

Neville frowned, but stopped, moving so that he was hovering over her eye level. "I.. uh I thought that.. well.. Wouldn't you like that?" The sandy haired boy blushed scarlet and looked away for a moment, suddenly becoming very interested in the ceiling. "I ... uh .. heard that umm girls liked that."

"It's unnecessary," Graces replied peevishly, "you really don't have to."

Neville bit his lip for a moment, clearly debating if he should continue this conversation. "I.. I want to." It must have been pretty obvious from the look on Graces' face that she did not believe him, because he smiled shyly and leaned forwards to kiss her. "If you don't like it, I'll stop, but... I would like to try."

Graces felt as though the air around her had thickened, there was this sort of stillness that had settled around her and Neville, as though time had stopped just for them. She felt as though her whole world was hanging on this moment and she could feel her body shaking with the intensity of it. Neville seeing her hesitation, nuzzled her neck with nose, gently kissing her, while at the same time allowing his hands to continue their work. "Trust me," he pleaded as he moved lower.

And for some reason unknown to her, Graces did. She stared up at the ceiling too nervous to watch as Neville continued to kiss her lower and lower, gently widening her legs, but the fact was she was allowing him to do it. She didn't feel comfortable with much physical contact, most of the time she had to force herself to allow a simple hug, and yet she was allowing a boy she barely knew to know her in the most biblical of senses. Yet, it didn't feel wrong or make her unsettled. She really did, for whatever reason, feel comfortable. Most of her humility at the moment stemmed from herself, as she worried over what Neville would think.

She felt his breath ghost over her and was about to lose her courage; telling Neville it was too embarrassing and she thought maybe she could just move him away, but all thoughts of that ended the moment she felt his tongue brush over her. Graces never knew that anything could feel that good. If she had been in her right state of mind, she would have been utterly ashamed of the noises that came from her mouth as Neville continued to relentlessly dance his tongue between her velvety lips. Neville however, could not be more thrilled at the sounds coming from Graces. Every small gasp she made, every moan was affecting Neville just as much as his tongue was affecting her. He reached up with one of his calloused hands and claimed her breast, running his thumb tenderly over the soft skin, overwhelming her body with sensation.

Graces closed her eyes as the sensations coursed through her, clouding her mind with ecstasy. She could feel herself contracting and knew she was about to give over. She squirmed with diversion, unable to keep herself still for what was coming. She didn't even realize that her hands had at some point wrapped themselves in Neville's sandy hair. She opened her eyes as she felt his hand leave her chest and watched as Neville began stroking himself while continuing to do even more wicked things with his tongue. The sight of Neville tasting and smelling her arousal and becoming so turned on by it that he had to touch himself, sent the Slytherin over the edge. She was so lost in her sea of pleasure that she did not even realize she was calling out to the gods, as her back arched as she trembled violently, her body losing all control, as the pressure that had been rising up inside of her finally reached its peak in an explosion of heat and pleasure that crashed into her again and again like waves on a shore.

She had never in her life been so relaxed, her head floating on a cloud somewhere in the sky along with the rest of her body. She wondered idly if she should say something, thank Longbottom or ask what made him, or how he knew, to do all that, but she couldn't seem to move, let alone speak and ask questions. She was so euphoric, she found that she didn't really care.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about Graces," Neville murmured as he kissed the neck of the exhausted girl before him, "you taste heavenly." Graces just giggled in response, not even bothering to open her eyes, she just laid there for a few minutes catching her breath, before turning over to Neville. He was just staring down at her smiling softly, letting a hand idly run through her hair.

It was odd how much she felt like she needed him at this moment. She could feel her magic pushing against her skin to be closer to him and even after her climax; she still felt the fever flushing throughout her, and the ache between her legs that demanded something that, up until now, she never knew she wanted. Sex had never been something she was interested in, not really, even when she was dating someone seriously, she never quite wanted him in the way she wanted Neville now. It wasn't that she didn't think she would enjoy the physical pleasantries that came with the intimacy, she just never could seem to get over having such intimacy with another person. And yet there she was, looking up into Neville's soft eyes, wanting nothing more than to give herself to him.

"You're not done, are you?" she inquired, confused as to why he had stopped and was just holding her.

"I'm giving you the opportunity to change your mind," Neville said carefully, "not that I don't want to, I just... well... we don't have to."

Graces knew that she was being given the opportunity to turn back and that she should probably take it while she could, but she couldn't bring herself to. "I.. I really meant what I said. I want this with you," she looked up nervously for a moment a new thought occurring to her, "that is... if you want this with me, of course."

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Neville was completely clueless as to why Graces Malfoy would want this with him, but apparently she did. He considered actually telling her that, of course he wanted this with her, that at this point he would rather lose his wand hand than not experience being with her, but he stopped himself, deciding that anything he said would come out a stuttering mess. Nodding, he reached over for his wand to cast a contraceptive charm, but was stopped by Graces gently taking it out of his hands.

"No offense Longbottom," Graces began hesitantly offering him a small smile, "but as amazing you are with your hands and tongue. Your wand work isn't nearly as good."

The Gryffindor couldn't find it in him to be offended; if anything he was a bit relieved seeing as he had never set the charm himself. Usually if he botched a spell he just had to spend a couple hours with Madam Pomphrey or replace an item, but if he somehow managed to do this one incorrectly, the consequences would be far greater. So, he let her set the charm and bit back a chuckle when she did it again for good measure.

"Don't laugh at me Longbottom," Graces scolded playfully, "this is very important. We don't want little Longbottoms running around."

Neville just laughed awkwardly, as he was becoming increasingly more aware of himself. He was beginning to reel with horror, as he realised that he had no idea what he was doing. Sure he had read a few dirty magazine articles here and there, thanks to Seamus, Ron, and Dean, and he was not so sheltered as to ignore locker room talk, but actually physically being with a woman and dreaming of being with a woman were two very different things. Suddenly, he was imagining a whole slew of things that he could do wrong. This was Graces' first time, what if he did it all wrong? For the rest of her life she would remember how awful her first time was and it would be all his fault. He was just on the edge of panicking, when he felt a soft hand on his chest bringing him back to earth.

"I won't know the difference," Graces comforted, moving her hand to delicately brush the fringe from his face. Neville gazed down at the breathtaking girl looking up at him with such trust and vulnerability. Trust and vulnerability he knew she didn't offer freely.

"It... it will hurt," he warned still looking for any signs of hesitation, "are you sure? Are you sure you want me to be the one to.. well.. to deflower you?"

"Deflower?" Graces sniggered, "Did you just say deflower?" Neville blushed and was about to begin babbling when Graces erupted with laughter. "I don't know if you have spent too much time in the garden or too much time with your gran! My father doesn't even say deflower!"

Neville dropped his head utterly humiliated, out of all the times for him to say something embarrassing, he chose now to be the time. "I... I was... I was just trying to make a point," Neville muttered still unable to look at the girl below him, who had finally stopped her cackling, "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm sure you will be gentle," Graces contended, softly leaning up to kiss him, "gentler than most even."

"You could have anyone..." Neville continued.

"I don't want anyone. I want you." Graces stressed as she seductively began moving her hand down Neville's chest, making his breath hitch as all thoughts of denying her slowly left him. "Adorable you, who says words like deflowering. I want you." It was such a simple phrase, such a simple emotion, to want, but never before had he thought that someone could want him. He was the guy that stumbled out of bed in the morning, forgot his homework, spilled his juice in the great hall, blew up his cauldron in potions, could barely speak without stuttering, and became frightened at just the sight of greasy hair and black robes. Neville was not the guy that girls typically wanted. And yet, he believed Graces when she said she wanted him. Part of it was because he so desperately needed to believe that someone could want him and the other part was the way she was looking at him. He had always wanted to be looked at like this; looked at in a way that made him believe that he was actually being seen.

He carefully lowered his body onto her, so that they were chest to chest and nose to nose. "Any time you want to stop just tell me, okay?"

"Okay," Graces promised leaning up and kissing him while at the same time reaching down and positioning him correctly for what was to come, "no more of this. I'm sure. I want you."

He nodded and with a nervous, yet excited look, slowly, Neville sank into her, making sure to be as careful and gentle as possible. He couldn't help but hiss with pleasure at how tight she was around him. He wanted more than anything to just thrust the rest of the way in, but he controlled himself. He knew this was hurting her, he could feel her body protesting the invasion and the tearing skin around him giving testimony to her innocence. Graces whimpered beneath him clutching his shoulders tightly with both hands and closing her eyes against the pain.

"Just relax," Neville muttered tightly, "it will be over soon, just relax." He gently caressed her face and kissed her cheeks, ignoring that she was turning away from him. He understood, she was in pain and resented that he wasn't. Neville prayed that she wouldn't ask to stop, his body ached to have her so painfully, that he now understood what it meant to want someone so badly that it hurt. After a few moments he felt her settle around him, and being unable to wait any longer he pushed himself the rest of the way in.

Graces gasped at the pain, and Neville stilled once again, not wanting to hurt her anymore than was necessary. "Are you okay? Do you...do you want to stop?" Neville asked concern and strain etched in his face.

Graces looked up seeing very clearly that Neville did not want to stop, that stopping his movements now was a great strain on him. She couldn't believe he was inside her, it was thrilling and frightening to her all at once. It also made her blush scarlet.

"Yes, I'm fine. It...it feels good and hurts. Does that make sense?"

Neville smiled, "It just feels incredible for me."

Graces grinned shyly, "I'm ready now."

After a few awkward minutes of fumbled motions and nervous laughter they both began moving more confidently; each learning what to do to make the experience more pleasurable for the other. Neville watched captivated as Graces' breath quickened and her full lips parted eliciting the most erotic of sounds. It was so amative for the awkward Gryffindor to see, someone as beautiful as Graces Malfoy, enjoy being with him in the most intimate of ways.

Neville decided that there could not be anything that felt nearly as remarkable as being with this girl. He cautiously moved his hips in small circular motions, taking in the feel of her warm resistant core around him, before pulling out and then back in moaning uncontrollably after every movement. It wasn't just the physical pleasure either, it was the way she made him feel. He felt wanted, needed, desired, things he had never felt until this moment, and he felt like it was more than just his body that she desired. She could easily have any boy in this school, given her virginity away to someone so much more worthy, but she wasn't with someone else. She was with him and he doubted anyone had ever seen her like this. She was mesmerizing. Her eyes were completely unveiled and Neville couldn't look away from the openness that was being exposed before him. He would never be able to look at her as a cold and emotionless after seeing her eyes like this. This was Graces Malfoy, the real one, what he saw in the halls was just a mask that she utilized to hide and he was fortunate enough to be one of the few blessed to see her remove it. The thought alone set a fire deep in his belly that fueled him forward, until he was now taking her so passionately he was going to give in.

And Graces met his unabated passion just as intensely. For the first time in his existence he felt hopeful, even awestruck, that he could have this, someone who wanted him just as passionately as he wanted them, just as recklessly. Every movement Graces was making, made him believe more and more that this was within his grasp. He felt her legs wrap around him as she clinged to his frame, kissing him demandingly, barely allowing him to come up for air, but he didn't care. Who could care about such trivial things, as air, when Graces Malfoy was kissing him like this? Reminding him of how connected they were at this very moment. He wanted to prolong this feeling forever, he never wanted this to stop, this feeling of being wanted and one with a soul as wonderful and amazing as her. He felt her body still and her core clench around him tightly and then she was begging him to take her, as her slick walls convulsed hard around him. Before he knew it he was taking her so forcefully, that he was lost in the sensation alone. The skin on his groin tingled with anticipation for a few seconds and then he was thrown into what could only be described as sheer ecstasy.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily as he tried to gather himself. He felt so amazing, his whole body was shivering with the aftermath of his release. He had never once experienced anything as mind blowing. He smiled as he realized there were just some things a wand couldn't do. A wand certainly couldn't make up for what he was feeling now laying on top of a beautiful girl, feeling her skin that was glistened with sweat from their endeavors, as he drowned in her sweet scent of pink lilies, lavender, and white cotton. The moment he rolled off her, she snuggled into his chest, burying her head under his neck, releasing a content sigh as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. For the first time in the night, Neville felt a small sting of regret. He wished that he could tell her that he loved her, but he couldn't. It would be a lie and he would not taint what they just did with a lie. He knew that he could love her. He had no doubts that if Graces let him, he could love her. He already felt a tornado of emotions for her and he definitely fancied her, but he didn't love her, not yet.

"I could love you Graces Malfoy. If you just let me, I could love you," Neville whispered into her hair, planting a gentle kiss on her head.

The girl in his arms didn't respond though, she was fast asleep. The sandy haired boy just smiled and listened to her steady breathing against his chest, before letting his heavy lids close as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: Graces is pronounced Gray-cees in case anyone was wondering.

"Graces? Graces, are you in here?"

Neville woke with a start at hearing an unfamiliar voice, coming from the front of the Greenhouse.

"Graces?"

The person of the hour was now sitting upright her face screwed in horror. "Hide," she hissed as she desperately began grabbing at the ground for her clothes. Neville, throwing on his robes and gathering his clothes, ducked under a table, moving various plants in front of him so he was not to be seen.

"Graces?" the mystery boy's voice was now becoming louder, he was so close Neville could hear his hands brushing against his clothing.

"What?" Graces snapped, fumbling with the buttons on her blouse, as she only buttoned them enough to cover her.

"There you are!" Blaize Zabini emerged from the darkness in dark silk pajamas. "I've been looking for you for an hour."

"What are you doing here? And why are you looking for me? You were fast asleep at eight! At eight! I remember because I could not convince Greg or Vincent to wake you. They each said something about beauty sleep and you not being pleasant." Graces ranted crossley.

"Well I most certainly don't want to be here," Zabini drawled, sitting on the floor next to the blond, his dark skin making them look like night and day, "it's now four in the morning. I much rather be in the dungeons warm in my own bed. Unfortunately, your git of a brother woke me up; rather rudely I might add, at three, demanding that I go look for you."

Graces groaned and her face flushed with anger. "I told him I wanted to be alone tonight! I specifically ordered for him to leave me alone," she whined.

"And he has listened to you, cara mia," Zabini smiled, throwing his arm casually over her; the familiarity causing Neville to grit his teeth as a sting of jealousy coursed through him, "Draco Malfoy is not the one that has come over to you. He has left you alone."

Graces just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in agitation, apparently in no mood for Slytherin logic.

"Merlin's beard Graces! Did you drink all this?" The Slytherin boy exclaimed, picking up the empty bottle of firewhisky and noticing another bottle half drained, near Graces. "No wonder you look so tussled."

"So what if I did," Graces muttered, "it's my business, not yours."

Zabini sat quietly for a few minutes, holding the bottle in one hand his thumb moving over the label. "What are we going to do with you Miss Malfoy?" he asked sadly.

"Nothing. There is nothing to do, just leave me be," Graces answered hollowly, her voice far smaller than it had been originally when talking to her friend.

"Can't," Zabini stated firmly, seeming to snap out of his reverie and bouncing back to the animated figure he was before, "I can't have the future Mrs. Zabini going off in the middle of the night drinking herself into a stupor," he declared winking down at her, "besides with you looking so flush and tousled some bloke may find you and ravage you before I ever get the chance."

"Well I am not the future Zabini, so you can rest easy on that front and there is no way I am letting you ravage me," Graces laughed, standing up shakily before almost side stepping into a desk. Zambini caught her though and swooped her up in his arms cradling her close to his chest.

"Come, come, my love, your brother has probably caused chaos in the dungeons over you. I can't imagine anyone is sleeping with him ranting and pacing."

"No," Graces whimpered, laying her forehead down in the crook of his neck, "let me stay. Please, Blaise."

"No, no, my sweet, that will not work this time. I am returning you to your brother and your bed. I much rather deal with your wrath than his at the moment. You need water, rest, and the infamous Zabini hangover potion, in that order."

"Why can't I have the hangover potion first?" Graces whined.

"My dear, I had to wake up, from a very erotic dream, at three in the morning and deal with a very irate Draco Malfoy because of you. Therefore, I am going to enjoy your pain tomorrow morning before I allow your relief."

"And here I thought you loved me; I thought I was the center of your world," Graces pouted, jokingly.

The dark haired boy just laughed vibrantly at Graces antics and began walking out of the Greenhouse still holding her in his arms despite her protests, "That won't work on me, Graces Malfoy. I have known you far too long."

Neville waited, before wandering back to his own bed. He laid there in the early morning gleam, wondering what Graces relationship with the handsome Slytherin was. He could not shake the sickening jealous feeling that was now burning in his stomach. Maybe they're just friends. I shouldn't jump to conclusions. She said she wanted me, after all, and their banter was playful and teasing. He could still smell Graces all over him and comforted himself with the knowledge that she chose to be with him. He smiled as he drifted into slumber, thinking about how that had to be the best night of his life. And he prayed there was more to come.

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Neville silently vowed never to drink again. The Gryffindor's head was pounding so violently his teeth hurt and his stomach felt like it was filled with live slugs. He barely made it to the loo in time to spill out its contents. He wondered idly if this was how Ron Weasley felt second year, when his wand back fired from trying to hex Draco Malfoy.

"Not feeling to great today, eh mate?" Ron asked as Neville reappeared from the bathroom, falling back onto his bed.

"Just peachy, can't you tell?" Neville muttered bitterly, in no mood at all to be teased.

"Where were you last night anyway?" Harry questioned from his bed as he tried to smooth down his mess of a hair, before heading down to breakfast. Neville looked over at his friend and saw the tell tale signs that he had woken up in the middle of the night from yet another nightmare. He had been plagued with nightmares ever since the battle at the ministry. Harry tried to pretend that he was fine, but everyone that shared a night with him in the room knew he wasn't. Neville had many times woken up from peaceful sleep to hear Harry screaming from a dream.

"I was in the greenhouse.... couldn't sleep," Neville explained quietly, looking away from Harry's piercing green eyes. It wasn't a lie that was where he was, he didn't have to tell them the details.

"Looks like you did more than tended to some plants mate," Ron commented as he affectionately jostled Neville on his bed, "You stink of booze. Had a bit of a night cap, did ya? And without any of us. For shame, Longbottom, and here I thought we were friends."

Neville just groaned and pulled his pillow over his head to drown out Ron's antics, while at the same time, getting away from the light that was threatening to burst his head open.

"Okay mate, we'll leave you alone to wallow in your bad decisions." Neville made an offensive hand gesture towards the red head, not bothering to emerge from the pillow, to which Ron just chuckled at. "Let's go, Harry, I bet Mione is already waiting for us."

"I'll meet you in the common room," Harry replied distractedly. At the same time Neville heard Ron leave, he felt his bed sink with added weight. Frowning, he removed his pillow from his face to see Harry sitting next to him.

"Are you okay, Nev?" Harry asked concerned, his green eyes looking down sadly.

"Yes..." Neville said slowly, unsure of where this was heading.

Harry sat nervously for a moment picking imaginary lint off his knee. "You just... you seem distracted lately... And now you're drinking ...alone... You don't even drink at parties..." Neville could tell the raven haired boy had more to say, so he waited for Harry to continue. "I know last year at the ministry was... it was haunting... And then everything with your parents and having to fight face to face with Bellatrix... I would understand if you were having a difficult time... I know I haven't really been th-"

"Harry, I'm fine," Neville interrupted, not wanting his friend to continue with his line of thinking, "Trust me. Nothing that happened at the ministry is bothering me. I'm actually very proud of what we did there. I finally beginning to feel like I belong in this house."

Harry smiled warmly at his friend, "You always belonged in this house, Nev, remember first year?"

Neville chuckled at the memory of trying to prevent the trio from breaking the rules, "Yeah I do. 'I- I- I'll fight you'." Neville had raised his hands up into fists and mimicking his expression from so many years ago, causing Harry to chuckle as well.

"Yeah, you're fine. Want me to bring you up some toast from breakfast?" Harry asked heading, to the door.

"I don't think I could manage to keep it down honestly," Neville answered, forcing himself up to get dressed. Harry chuckled and exited the dorm, leaving Neville to his own devices.

Neville found his shower to be bitter sweet. On one end, he felt immensely better washing away some of the toxins that had sweat themselves out through the night, but with it went the lingering scent of Graces that had been left on his skin. He smiled thinking about the night before; it was so unreal that just hours ago he had been with her in the most intimate way. He ached to be near her now, to see what would happen. Were they lovers now? He contemplated that for a bit, before deciding that one night didn't make them lovers. He highly doubted that she would be calling herself his girlfriend, but he wondered if maybe, she would act more familiar with him, go on a few dates, etc. He kind of wished he was Zabini, that he could have that sort of relationship with her. He envied that the boy got to know her the way he so craved. She didn't hide her emotions from him and he could tell by the way they were talking that they were close.

Neville walked into the Greenhouse, his mind still on the blonde he was about to meet. He walked over to where their plant was and looked down at the floor from last night. He felt ridiculous smiling like a fool looking down at the floor, but he couldn't help himself. He wondered how he should greet Graces when she got there. Should he kiss her? He wanted to. If she let him, he would kiss her every chance he got. He wouldn't even mind kissing her in the Great Hall for the whole world to see. Ron and Harry would probably throw the biggest fit, but Neville found he didn't care. They didn't know her; they judged her based on Draco. Admittedly, he didn't know her all that well either, but he knew she wasn't a bad person, and he had a real glimpse at her at her rawest, just Graces. She was even more beautiful. He saw her earlier, the real her, and under her mask and through all her complication, he knew there was something wonderful. And he didn't give a damn about what anyone else thought. With that in mind, he decided he was going to kiss her the moment she walked in the greenhouse. He felt silly that he even had to contemplate such a silly action; after all, he had kissed her in the most private of spots mere hours ago, surly kissing her gently on the lips, when there was no one else around, wouldn't bother her.

Finally the greenhouse door opened. Neville straightened smiling widely only to be disappointed as Pansy Parkinson waltzed in with a bored look on her face, before sneering at him.

"Graces won't be coming to help with the assignment, she asked that I come down and do whatever needed to be done," Pansy drawled, looking down her nose at Neville as if being in his presence was the greatest of inconveniences.

"Is... is she okay?" Neville asked concerned.

"That really isn't any of your business, now is it?" Pansy replied coldly, heading over to the plant. "However, I don't want you telling Sprout that she is slacking off as a partner, so yes she isn't feeling well. She should be fine by tomorrow though."

"You don't have to be here. I can take care of the plant," Neville stated, almost tripping on some pots as he hurried after the pug faced girl, "just tell Gr-Malfoy that I hope she feels better."

Pansy raised an eyebrow scrutinously at the awkward boy before her, "Why would you be sending well wishes to a Malfoy?"

The sandy haired boy blushed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, "I... well... Why wouldn't I?"

"Because she's a Malfoy." Pansy dead panned and rolled her eyes like it was so obvious.

"Uh... ummm... Love thy enemy?" Neville stated nervously, hoping Pansy would just take it as another Gryffindor nobility thing. He had heard Seamus say it many times to Harry and Ron as they threw fits about Draco. He asked him once what it meant and he just laughed and said it was a catholic thing and then told him about some bloke named Matthew with a book.

"Love thy enemy? Why would anyone love their enemy? I swear, Longbottom, you become more dimwitted as the days go by." And with that Pansy left.

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"Feeling better darling?" Pansy asked, entering the girls' dormitory, taking a seat on Graces bed and beginning to flip through Witches Weekly.

"I am, now that Zabini isn't withholding his hangover potion from me," Graces mumbled bitterly.

"Hmmmm, but he did give it to you," Pansy reminded her, not bothering to look up from the magazine. Graces just rolled her eyes and continued lying in bed. "Are you planning on joining the living, now that you are feeling better?"

"No."

Pansy peered over the magazine for a moment, before idly flipping a page. "And why not?"

"I. Don't. Want. To."

The dark haired Slytherin girl was officially done trying to get her friend out of bed. If she knew one thing about Malfoys, it was that they were as stubborn as Hungarian horntails with a matching temper to boot. "Longbottom said the oddest thing to me," Pansy commented offhandedly.

Graces felt her heart drop to her stomach with panic. "Oh?" she prayed that Neville wasn't dim enough to tell anyone about their escapade the previous night.

"Yeah," Pansy continued half heartedly, more focused on the article detailing that the Screaming Banshees were going to be touring for the summer.

Graces was quickly becoming irritated with her friend's distraction. "And? What did he say?"

"Well, first he told me that he can take care of the plants and then he asked me to tell you that he hopes you feel better," Pansy frowned at the memory of how odd that was, before continuing on, "Then, when I asked why he cares, he was like, 'Love thy enemy?'... Isn't that the oddest thing you have ever heard? I mean, who loves their enemy?"

"That's a muggle saying," Graces answered sitting up, frowning, "it's a religious thing."

"Merlin's beard! Are you telling me that not only is Longbottom, a dirty blood traitor, but now he's into their religion? Do you think it's the same one that says to burn us alive?" Pansy exclaimed.

"How am I supposed to know what Longbottom believes?" Graces asked scowling.

"It was just a rhetorical question, Graces," Pansy said rolling her eyes, "I swear, when you and your brother are in a mood, you look for reasons to bite all of our heads off."

Graces just laid back down and stared up at the ceiling. "Do you think he meant it?"

"Meant what?"

"The muggle phrase... Do you think he really loves his enemies?"

"Probably," the other girl shrugged still reading, "I mean he is a Gryffindor; it sounds like something their lot would buy into."

"You mean something stupid?"

Pansy giggled, "There we go. Now, I know you're feeling better. Want to head down to the common room?"

"No," Graces said quietly, "really Pans, I just want to stay in bed today."

"Okay love, I'll check on you around lunch." And with that the Graces was left alone.

Graces laid there in bed staring at nothing and yet seeing a multitude of images. Neville's soft caring eyes as he entered her, the look on his face after of sheer wonder, she remembered the way his arms held her, the soft kiss on her forehead he gave her as he pulled her into him to sleep, and how stupid she had been to allow any of it.

Sleeping with Neville Longbottom was suicide. She had knowingly put her life at risk, and for what? A few hours of pleasure and comfort, that she knew, very well, nothing could come from after. She had no idea what had possessed her to do such a stupid thing. It wasn't as if she fancied the Gryffindor or anything like that, she did enjoy his company, for reasons she still refused to look into, but none of that, warranted or explained, why she had given herself to him. She wished she could blame it all on the alcohol, but she couldn't. She'd known what she was doing the whole time.

All she had done, in sleeping with Neville Longbottom, was add more problems to her life. Graces groaned and buried her face in her pillow. If anyone found out, her family would be forced to kill her; if they didn't, then the Dark Lord would kill them and her. It would be a kindness if they killed her before the Dark Lord got to her. Sleeping with a blood traitor was as bad as sleeping with a mudblood, and yet, she couldn't find herself disgusted that he had been inside her. She should have, she should have been sickened by the thought that a blood traitor had been spilled his seed inside her, nauseated by the scent of him lingering on his skin, and jaded by the small bite marks on her hips. Yet, she wasn't and that made her disgusted with herself. She was disgusted that she wasn't disgusted that she had slept with a blood traitor. She just wanted to scream, it was all so confusing.

This doesn't NEED to be confusing. It was a mistake and it will never EVER happen again.


	5. Chapter 5

Neville was trying very hard to not be rude as Hermione and Hannah talked to him about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, but despite his best efforts he couldn't keep himself from looking over at the greenhouse door, anxiously waiting for Graces to arrive for class. He hadn't seen the blonde since their night together; Graces hadn't even been in attendance for meals in the Great Hall. He was starting to worry that she was actually sick and not just badly hungover.

"Neville. Nev," Hannah echoed impatiently, trying to get the sandy haired boy's attention, "Neville! NEVILLE!"

"Yes, sorry... wha... what did you say?"

Hannah sighed exasperatedly, "I asked if you were going to Hogsmeade this weekend."

"Oh, uh, yes," Neville said idly, looking back at the door and smiling widely as Graces entered. Hannah and Hermione were about to ask why on earth he was smiling to see Graces Malfoy, but before they could he excused himself and walked over to the Slytherin girl.

Originally Neville thought he would embrace Graces, but after seeing her he quickly realized that would be a mistake. The Slytherin had paused for only a moment as she saw him approaching before scowling and hastily making her way over to her desk. She pointedly did not acknowledge Neville as he walked beside her. Unsure of what to do, Neville just waited until the two of them were in private before speaking.

"Are you feeling better?" The sandy haired boy asked, smiling shyly arriving at the desk, "I was starting to worry when you didn't come to dinner last night."

Graces didn't answer. She just glared coldly at Neville before continuing to get her inkwell and parchment out of her bag. Neville was steadily becoming more and more nervous the more Graces gave him the cold shoulder.

"So as you know this weekend is our first Hogsmeade trip," Neville started, his heart thrashing in his chest while the blonde next to him coolly ignored him, "and... umm I was thinking that since... well... since... yeah... I was wondering if maybe you would like to get a butterbeer or something Saturday? You know as a... well... a date." Graces stilled and looked up at Neville clearly horrified.

"You cannot be serious, Longbottom," Graces said incredulously.

Neville blushed and pushed through the feeling of rejection that was starting to boil in his stomach,"Well... umm... why not? I thought after we—"

"Ssshhhhh," Graces hissed, looking around in a panic. When she seemed satisfied that no one was paying attention to them, she turned back to Neville. "Merlin's beard, Longbottom! Are you truly that daft? Do you want someone to overhear?" she whispered harshly, "I would think the reason 'why not' is pretty crystal clear; so just forget everything that happened. It was a mistake."

"You... you think it was a mistake?" Neville asked, unable to hide his hurt.

"Of course it was a mistake," Graces hissed back, "I should have never been with you. You're a blood traitor and... and a friend of Harry Potter. I can't believe you don't see this! You are not the kind of man I am supposed to end up with."

"Right," Neville stated bitterly, "you're supposed to end up Mrs. Zabini." Graces mouth dropped as though she had been smacked, but before the blonde could retort, Professor Sprout was in front of the class giving them instructions for the day.

"We will spend the day transplanting our hellebores. Begin by cutting off the flowers with a garden pruner. Dig the plant out of the ground and use a knife to cut the root ball into two and then into four; be sure to always include part of the center root. Plant the divisions in the garden immediately unless the roots are very small. If that's the case, plant the hellebore in a pot and we will just have to use it next year," and with that Professor Sprout had dismissed them to begin their work.

Neville began working diligently on the project without a word to his partner. He didn't even want to look at the girl next to him. He had never before felt so disheartened, so rejected. He knew it was a long shot that she would actually want to go on a proper date with him, but he had hoped. She did, after all, sleep with him and he never thought in a million years that would happen. Was it really so crazy to think that she would at least have a drink with him? Apparently it was. Graces' words stung somewhere deep in his chest and he could feel his heart drop down into his stomach. I bet if I were Zabini she would get a drink with me. She would sit there and make jokes and let me actually get to know her, because then I would be the kind of man she was supposed to end up with. I'm not even asking for anything much. I'm not asking that she marry me or anything, just that she get to know me and let me get to know her. I guess she doesn't want to get to know me. I should have figured... I'm not rich, handsome, smart, or anything remotely like the sort of guys in the Slytherin house. I was a fool to believe she could want me.

"Zabini is just a friend," Neville heard Graces say quietly to his side. He made a small gesture with his head to let her know he heard her, but continued to work. "No really, he is. We've known each other since nappies... he's just a friend. I'm... I'm not...I'm not like that... I would have never, you know, with you if ... well... if I was... involved with anyone... and you know that I had never... that I had never been with anyone before... you ... you were my first."

Neville was now looking down at Graces, who was clearly uncomfortable. "You were my first too," he murmured quietly, turning back to cutting the roots of their plant, "I just thought that it would be nice to get to know you, take you out properly, and let you get to know me."

Graces rolled her eyes, "Why?"

"Well... I'd like to know the girl I uh... well... I lost my virginity to," Neville blushed, "And... uh don't you want to know me?"

"I know you fine," Graces quipped, obviously reverting back to being annoyed with Neville and wanting the subject dropped.

"Not really. Maybe if you actually knew me and I knew you we could grow to you know... fancy one another or something. I'm not that bad of a bloke you know." Graces shot him a wary look, before muttering that he was crazy. "Is it really that insane of a thought? I mean you already confessed that you liked me well enough... and..." Neville was unsure if he should make his next point, unsure because he didn't know for sure that Graces had felt the same spark with him that he had with her. "Didn't you.. feel something when... when we were together?"

Neville all but held his breath as Graces stood at their workstation, her quick silver eyes trained on the plant in front of her, her expression slowly softening. Neville knew she was remembering their night together, knew she was thinking of the comfort they were able to find in one another. He knew she was recalling how easy it was for them to just let their guard down with one another and he was certain that she was remembering the spark they felt when they kissed and the brilliance they experienced when they were intimate. And then Graces gazed up at him and like a candle in the wind, the hope that was beginning to ignite in him was instantly blown out.

"Tell me, Longbottom," Graces queried gently, her voice lacking the harshness it usually maintained, "what would come of that? Of us getting to know one another. Nothing has changed because of what we did. I am still well on my way to being a death eater. What good would come from us fancying one another? Honestly, would you want to introduce me to your gran, after what my aunt has done to her only son? Or better yet, do you think that I could ever be civil to your mudblood friends like Granger?" Neville looked away, unsure of how to answer such valid questions, it all seemed so easy before she said it like that. "Nothing can come from what we did. Fairy tales are a myth, Longbottom. Stories of fiction to make good little boys and girls stay innocent as long as possible before they are slapped across the face with reality and tossed into the big, bad, real world. The hero doesn't always win and the good guy doesn't always get the girl. These stories you have heard growing up are nothing but lies. This is reality, you're an heir; your family is expecting you to marry a sweet, light witch from a respectable light family that will bear you a sweet, light heir to continue your legacy," Graces paused, staring down at the Malfoy crest that was stamped on her ring, "And I have expectations as well, family is everything, Longbottom. The real key to immortality, and I will not hurt mine. We could never possibly grow to fancy one another."

For the rest of the class the two partners worked in silence. There seemed to be nothing to say, Graces was content on pretending that the whole thing never happened, and Neville didn't see that he had any other option than to go along pretending as well. He had no answers to Graces questions, even if he did accept her for all that she was, good and bad, his family and friends never would. It was a harsh reality, and yet he still wished that she had said yes to going on a proper date with him. Graces Malfoy, without her stoic mask, was an amazingly bewitching girl. She said that she didn't think that they could grow to fancy one another, but Neville knew that he, at least, could. He did. He fancied her now. She was smart, funny, hard working, endearingly awful at Herbology, had the prettiest of smiles and the most melodic laugh. It hurt in ways he had never expected that she didn't want to share that part of herself with him.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, class was dismissed. Graces and Neville packed their things in awkward silence.

"Neville." Neville looked up from packing his inkwell to see Hannah standing nervously in front of his and Graces' work area. It was odd for Hannah to come over to his desk instead of waiting with Hermione outside for him. "I –I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at the Three Broomsticks Saturday for a butterbeer or something."

"Yeah, sure Hannah, that sounds great," Neville said, continuing to pack his things, "Who else is going?"

"Umm... well I was planning on it just being you and I. Like a date," Hannah stammered, nervously playing with one of her braids.

Graces paused next to Neville at Hannah's last statement, before hurriedly trying to clean her work area to get away.

"Uh... sure, Hannah, that would be nice," the sandy haired boy muttered absolutely shocked, he really had no idea what to do. Hannah was one of his dearest friends and he didn't want to hurt her feelings, especially now that he knew what that felt like. He was never exactly good at saying no, either. And let's not forget the fact that Graces had made it very clear she did not want to go on a date with him, so he had no one to go with. He didn't even realize what he was saying until it was out of his mouth. The Hufflepuff smiled brightly before leaving the class. When he came out of his surprise, he realized that he had just agreed to a date right next to Graces. He turned to say something to her only to find that she was turning to leave.

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Draco sat across from his sister in the Great Hall, eyeing her warily. He knew something was terribly wrong with her. Others may not have noticed, but he could see the sadness etched in her stoney eyes. She smiled and laughed with Pansy, bantered with Blaise, but none of that could fool him. She was his flesh and blood, the only person in the world that knew him completely and he was the only person that knew her completely.

"Do you want to tell me what is wrong?" Draco asked under his breath, taking a bite of his porridge.

"Nothing's wrong," Graces said quietly.

"Bollocks, you've been upset for days," Draco ventured, becoming increasingly frustrated, "you look as though someone has killed your kneazle."

"I don't have a kneazle."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the ill attempt at humor on his sister's part. "That is beside the point and you know it. So spill."

"Please, Draco, just leave it alone. Please."

"I can't leave it alone, you have been moping about the castle since Monday! It's Friday morning and you look, if possible, even more miserable."

The two Slytherins sat there, at a stalemate, neither willing to bend to the other. Draco waited patiently for Graces to give him any hint of what was wrong.

"Draco please," Graces whispered her voice laced with her misery "If I tell you, I'll cry. I'll turn into Moaning Myrtle right here in the Great Hall for the whole school to see. Please leave me be."

Draco wanted to whisk his sister away in an abandoned room and let her cry. He wanted to fold her into his arms and let her sob endlessly against his chest while he whispered soothing words to her until she was exhausted and her eyes had run dry. He wanted to fill whatever hollow feeling in her chest with reassurances that she was loved and that he would take care of her, but instead he nodded his head and reached across the table and took her hand in his, rubbing her palm with his thumb in gentle circles that immediately seemed to calm her.

"I should go to class," Graces reminded, pulling her hand away. Draco watched as his sister dejectedly rose from her seat. She looked as though she were a prisoner in Azkaban, walking to receive the dementor's kiss.

"Would you like me to walk you?" he offered concerned.

Graces hesitated in answering, worrying her lip and looking off to the side as though embarrassed by her own weakness. Draco realized she probably was, but kept his face composed. If he looked at her sympathetically she would only take it as pity.

"That would make you late for your class, I have Herbology today."

"My offer still stands. Would you like me to walk you?"

"I don't want you to be late." Her lip quivered a bit and she looked away, but she was strong. Not strong enough though, no one can stay that strong for that long, not even a Malfoy.

"I'll walk you." Draco stood, flinging his bag onto his shoulders and waited for his sister to gather her things. They walked in comfortable silence to the greenhouse, shoulders brushing as they made their way over. He didn't need to see her to know that she was lost in her world of thought. Draco silently prayed that she would say something, anything before he left her. They were now nearing the greenhouse and his heart sank slightly with the realization that she was not going to confide in him. "Graces, you know you can tell me anything, anything at all."

Graces nodded her head, but Draco wasn't convinced that she truly believed him.

"You are my flesh and blood Graces; nothing you say to me will ever change that. And you know nothing means more to a Malfoy than their blood. Whatever is going on you don't have to hide it from me."

"What if it's terrible, what if I've done something unforgivable by your standards? By Malfoy standards..."

Draco's heart clenched at how small his sister sounded. He wondered what it was that she had done that he would consider unforgivable. Then again, to dark purebloods many things could constitute as unforgivable. Ironically, none of these included unforgivable curses.

"You could never do anything unforgivable by my standards."

Graces swallowed what seemed to be a rock of emotions, "What if I slept with Neville Longbottom? And what if I now think I fancy him?"

"Fine," Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes "go on, make your jokes. I'll let you keep your little secret." He gave her a small smile. "Surely whatever it is isn't as bad as that."

He decided to bend down and kiss Graces on her forehead, public displays of affection were rare among the Malfoys, but considering how destitute his sister was looking these days, he decided to indulge her. When he pulled away, her eyes were swimming with unwept tears and she looked as though she wanted to say something more, but in the end she turned and headed for her class. Draco felt something coil in his chest as he watched his sister disappear into the greenhouse. He wished that he knew what it was that was torturing her. As he headed back to the castle he decided that he would take her to the three Broomsticks tomorrow, just the two of them, and he would buy her so much candy that she would be as hyped up as a cornish pixie.

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Graces walked into the greenhouse with a sinking heart. Draco thought she was kidding, that her confession wasn't true. He thought the whole idea, of her sleeping with Longbottom, completely preposterous. She wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all, there was truly no one she could talk to. She didn't even realize how badly she wanted to confess and be heard until Draco had dismissed her. She wished he had believed her; she would have welcomed his screams over his gentle kiss that was supposed to be reassuring. It wasn't. It felt like cold acid had been released into her blood and was eating her insides. Draco trusted that she hadn't done such a foolish thing and he believed she deserved comfort. She didn't deserve comfort though, she deserved the pain she was in because she had caused it for herself. It was only her fault. She had been the one foolish enough to sleep with Longbottom and then actually fancy him after she knew she couldn't, shouldn't, have him.

The worst part was that she didn't realize that she fancied him until he accepted the date with Abbot. The moment he agreed, it was like a thestral kicked her in the stomach and the ache that was there still hadn't gone away. All of a sudden, she was noticing every good quality the pudgy pureblood had: she noticed when he stopped in the courtyard to comfort a homesick first year instead of continuing on with his friends, she noticed how he never shot dirty looks at Slytherins like the rest of the Gryffindors, she noticed how vibrant his laughter was and how he usually tilted his head up towards the sky as he let himself be overcome with the humor and she noticed his smile. Graces had never seen a kinder smile in all her life. Neville's smile was like warm sunlight on a cold day, it instantly sent warmth to whoever he graced with it. She had thought that the effect of his smile would eventually wear off since he smiled so often, but it didn't. Anytime he passed her in the hall he would offer her a small, shy smile that made her heart flutter and her insides turn warm with silent affection.

Graces hated him for that. She hated that he now wielded a power over her that she couldn't control. She hated that her heart reacted to him against her wishes. So she did the only thing that she could think to do, she tried to push him away. When he smiled at her in the halls, she made herself scowl at him. When he tried to talk to her in herbology, she gave clipped answers that made it clear his conversation wasn't welcome, and when he brushed up against her by accident, she pointedly moved farther away from him. He would, of course, ignore her hostility and continue to try and be pleasant, but she couldn't find it in herself to even be neutral towards him. He had hurt her. She knew they couldn't have anything with one another, that what they had done had been a mistake, but she didn't expect him to so easily forget about her and accept a date with Abbott.

"I got a new top for Saturday!" Graces heard Hannah exclaim excitedly to Hermione. "It's green, Neville's favorite," the Hufflepuff's voice then dropped to a secretive whisper, "And it's a bit low cut, nothing inappropriate, but..." Hannah's voice trailed off suggestively. Graces quickly hurried her steps not wanting to hear anymore than she had to.

She made herself feel better by imagining setting Abbot's stupid, childish braids on fire for giggling secretly with her friends in the hall the past week every time Neville walked by. It had been almost five days since Neville agreed to go on a date with the girl and she was still giggling and swooning over him any time he passed her. It was absolutely ridiculous! She had known Longbottom for years, and for years she was able to act like a normal person around him. Then, with one date coming up, she acts as though she is under amortentia. The idiot.

Graces silently took her seat next to Neville and immediately started pulling out her work when she felt a gentle hand go to her shoulder. She whipped her head to the side and glared at the sandy haired boy beside her for having the audacity to touch her. "Are you okay?"

Graces turned away from Neville's kind eyes and shrugged his hand off her. "I'm fine," she muttered tightly, fighting desperately to not let her face betray her.

"Are... are you sure? I saw your brother walking you to class... and you've seen a bit... off all week."

"I said I was fine," Graces replied icily, feeling exposed under Neville's concerned eyes.

Professor Sprout came up a few moments later and told the class about how they would be working with Devil's Snare. Graces took in a long breath, today was definitely not her day. She couldn't remember the last time she worked with a plant like Devil's Snare without it trying to attack her, or, in fact, any plant. She followed Neville to the dark area where they would be pruning the malignant plant and stared at its seemingly innocent vines. Their plant was still young, its vines were the size of a child's arm, but they could still take a firm hold and cause damage to one's body.

"Why don't you let me deal with the plant and you create the light?" Neville suggested, giving Graces a hopeful smile that, even in the dark, gleamed and set her skin prickling with warmth, "I mean... no offense, but I would hate to lose my partner."

Graces scoffed at his attempt at humor, "Yeah, because you have such a hard time replacing me don't you, Longbottom." Immediately the blond girl wanted to take her words back. Neville was now standing with his back to the plant looking at her with a confused furrow between his brows; there was no hostility in his eyes, just sheer confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing," Graces whispered, looking away embarrassed, "forget I said anything."

"No, you are upset. What is it?"

"I am not upset, just leave it. I'm fine."

"Please," Neville proceeded exasperatedly, "I've been around Hermione and Ginny enough to know that when a girl says she's fine and she is not, she is lying. Just tell me what it is."

"WHY!? WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU ANYTHING? YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND, YOU DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT ME, NOT REALLY. YOU TRY TO TELL YOURSELF THAT YOU DO, BUT YOU FORGET ABOUT ME INSTANTLY, THE MOMENT—"

Graces didn't get to finish her rant before she felt something pull her feet from under her and darkness began to creep around her vision before it swallowed her completely.


	6. Chapter 6

Neville knew the instant he felt a foreign grip on his ankle that he had made a mistake. He had been so concerned about why Graces was upset that he allowed himself to be distracted enough to turn his back on a dangerous plant. He felt the hearty plant rip his feet from the floor, just at the same time it pulled Graces, sending both partners to the ground. Unfortunately for Graces she was facing Neville when the plant pulled her she went backwards and he toppled over her. Neville heard the sickening crack of her head as it hit the corner of a table before it impacted the floor with added force from his weight. He immediately turned to the plant which was still pulling the two students towards it, clutching their legs mercilessly with more of its unruly vines.

"Incendio!" he bellowed, sending the plant into flames and casting an orange glow in the previously dark room.

He looked down at Graces to see if she was alright and felt his blood grow cold as if his insides were being scraped away with a knife. Dark liquid was pooling out from her. Already the platinum blond hair was turning black with the thick coating of blood. The rest of the class was now crowding around murmuring to one another as Professor Sprout pushed through. Neville remained bent over the still form, his eyes frantic with worry. "Graces? Oh gods, Graces wake up. Can you hear me? Professor!"

Professor Sprout was soon bent over the paling girl. "We need to take her to Madam Pomfrey," she whispered urgently, fairly panicked herself, "Neville can you lift her?"

Neville nodded and gently lifted Graces from the floor pulling her close to him. It was so odd for him to once again have her in his arms. He had longed to touch her, hold her close to his chest, feel her head against his neck and caress her skin while whispering sweet nothings to her. And now there he was, holding her close to his chest, with her head being cradled against his neck and shoulder while it bled out, and he continued to whisper reassurances he knew she couldn't hear. Not exactly what he had meant. He supposed that life liked to constantly toy with him.

He and Professor Sprout were about to leave the greenhouse when they heard Graces' slurred mumbling, "Puuet me dow-nnn."

"Graces!" The sandy haired boy instantly felt relief at hearing Graces voice. "Thank Merlin. We're taking you to the hospital wing; it's going to be okay." The blond in his arms seemed to be struggling to say something, and Neville and Madam Pomfrey watched as she willed the next three words out of her mouth.

"Put.... me... down!"

Neville looked down at Graces and was about to protest, but the girl began to desperately and pitifully struggle to get out of his arms.

"Please Graces, calm down. You're not well."

Professor Sprout was watching in horror as Graces struggled in Neville's arms, her head beginning to bleed more. Unsure of what to do she nodded to Neville for him to put her down. Neville slowly placed Graces on her feet leaving his arms around her middle to steady her, gradually moving them away so they were hovering near.

"Graces, please," Neville groaned his insides turning into more and more knots at the sight of Graces bleeding profusely onto the greenhouse floor, trying desperately to be strong when she should be allowing his help. "You're really hurt, just let me take you to the hospital wing."

"Don't say my given name, Longbottom," Graces said breathlessly as she held the table in front of her and closed her eyes to the room spinning around her, "It suggests a familiarity that you and I do not possess."

Clear liquid that was clouded with blood began to flow from Graces nose as she brought a shaking hand to her forehead. Neville looked to the professor to silently ask the question of what was happening and then he felt Graces' weight as she began crumbling to the ground and back into his fortunately ready arms.

This time Neville wasted no time in figuring out what to do; before Professor Sprout could even regain her thoughts he was running out of the greenhouse, heart pounding and ears ringing with adrenaline. He could feel his arms and chest being coated with blood and numerous times he worried about tripping on the slick substance that had now began to drop onto his shoes, but he never stopped. He ignored the stitch in his side as he flew up the stairs, three at a time, before kicking the hospital doors open and shouting for Madam Pomfrey.

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"She has a depressed skull fracture of the occipital, she should never have been moved," Madam Pomfrey muttered to herself, forgetting that Neville was still hovering behind her.

"Is she going to be okay?"

The mediwitch idly wondered why the Longbottom boy looked so distraught over a Malfoy for a brief second, before refocusing all her attention on the girl lying helpless on her table.

"Mr. Longbottom, I think you should wait outside of the curtains until I am done working on Miss Malfoy."

"Is she going to be okay?" Neville asked again desperately.

Madam Pomfrey didn't want to answer that question just yet. Graces was badly injured and a head trauma of this magnitude could easily kill her, or at least cause permanent damage.

"Mr. Longbottom, are you her next of kin?" Neville was silent for a few moments before answering no, sheepishly. "Then you really should not be in this room and furthermore you should not be distracting me from what I am doing at this moment."

The mediwitch knew she was being a bit harsh, but her attention needed to be focused. She made a quick decision to wake the girl. If she was awake, her own magic would try to repair the damage alongside her, but as long as she was passed out like this her magic remained idle under the surface.

"Rennervate!"

Graces awoke in agony, Madam Pomfrey ignored her groans and whimpers and continued to work, she sighed with relief as Graces' magic started to instantly repair her injuries alongside her own magic.

"Miss Malfoy, do you know where you are?"

Graces clearly did not know or care where she was, as she futilely began trying to sit up, Madam Pomfrey had strapped her down, though, so she just wiggled and whimpered against the straps.

"You are in the Hospital wing at Hogwarts. Can you answer some questions?" Madam Pomfrey waited for a response, but all Graces did was clench her eyes more tightly, her breathing hard. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest. "Graces, please you need to stay with me. Do you understand where you are?"

"Yes," Graces forced through gritted teeth.

"Good. What is your full name?" The mediwitch continued to work on the injuries, she needed Graces awake, and she needed to ensure that there was no brain damage being done as she healed her. The pain that the child was in was only temporary; brain damage, even in the wizarding world, could be permanent.

"Graces Bellatrix Malfoy," she panted.

"And your brother?"

"Draco Araxes Malfoy." Graces was in so much pain, an endless sea of hurt in her head, throbbing heavily. She was drowning in it. Any moment of relief was washed away in an instant with the next wave of agony. They came without mercy, without warning. The only thing she was sure of was that they were going to continue to plunge her into greater depths of this new, dark ocean. She gritted her teeth against it so hard that she was sure that they would crack, but she didn't care. She would welcome any other distraction from the pounding in her head.

"What is your house?" Whoever was speaking sounded so far away. She just wanted fall back into the darkness, back where she was left out of this misery, but the voice was relentless. "What is your house?"

She answered what she hoped was correct, what she prayed was enough to make the voice be quiet and let her go.

"Good. Do you remember what happened?" Graces didn't answer she just whimpered and turned away in response. "Miss Malfoy do you remember?"

Graces was done answering. It was too much, she couldn't hear the voice anymore. She was giving in to her body, allowing the pain to pull her under its depths so it could to drown her and let her feel nothing. She was ready to succumb, why should she care for the voice calling out to her? She would rather be in the dark where there is no pain, just rest.

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Neville was rarely defiant, but he noted that he seemed to have a knack for choosing the correct times to be so. He knew that Madam Pomfrey told him to wait outside the curtains, but he decided if he was just silent, she would never notice him with all her focus on Graces. So he stayed and watched. He watched as Graces fought through what must have been excruciating pain, wanting nothing more than to take it for her. He couldn't stand the sight of her whimpering on the table. She wasn't the kind of person that whimpered. Graces Malfoy was a rock. She stood solid against anything; if she was whimpering from pain then that pain must be incredible. He wondered how she had stood so defiant in the Greenhouse when she was hurting so badly. Even now he could see her struggling to maintain control. He had watched her grit her teeth to keep from calling out and turning away to hide her weaknesses. Something told him that Graces would not want him there, that she wouldn't want anyone to see her like this, but he couldn't leave her. He felt like if he walked out of that room he was abandoning her and he couldn't do that. He would rather face her wrath, if she ever found out he had seen her like this, than leave her alone with a stranger when she was suffering.

He kept his eyes averted from her actual wound, focusing on her face. He had only caught a brief glimpse of the damage done to Graces' skull and it sent more fear into him than Bellatrix Lestrange had at the Ministry. He tried not to think of it, even now, and listened to Graces answering the mediwitch's questions. Surely if she was coherent and answering questions, no matter how weakly, she would live. It turned his stomach inside out to watch her struggle to form the simple words to answer Madam Pomfrey. He watched as her face contorted against the pain and she gritted her teeth and fought. Then suddenly, her face relaxed and the whole room went still before her eyes rolled back into her head and she began thrashing violently against the bed with convulsions. Madam Pomfrey instantly went and held her head down to the side to prevent more damage to her exposed brain, but holding her there with both hands prevented her from giving her any other medical attention.

Neville instantly went and took the mediwitch's place holding Graces head down and placing cloth into her mouth to prevent her from swallowing her tongue.

"You shouldn't be here," Pomfrey scolded, working diligently at the task at hand. Neville noted that she did not ask him to leave so he just continued to whisper reassurances to Graces, while holding her down as firmly as he dared without hurting her.

"She doesn't know you, I couldn't leave her with someone she doesn't know and trust when she was suffering."

"Are you saying the girl trusts you?" Neville didn't need to look at the mediwitch to know she was scoffing and rolling her eyes at the idea.

He didn't answer right away he thought back to the moment before he had taken her, he remembered how she had looked up at him her silver eyes filled with an assortment of emotions, many of which he did not understand, but he remembered distinctly seeing trust somewhere in there. "Yes... she does," he murmured quietly, ignoring the way Madam Pomphrey narrowed her eyes at him before muttering a spell that sent saline on Graces exposed wounds. The seizure stopped instantly and the mediwitch continued to work, even as Graces came back to consciousness.

"Longbottom," Graces groaned feebly as she shut her eyes, "if you don't let go of me I am going to hex you."

Neville closed his eyes as relief flooded through his body like cool water on a hot summer's day. "How will you hex me without a wand?" he teased, too happy to take Graces' threat to heart.

"I'll strangle you then."

Neville chuckled, "You can't. Your limbs are tied to the bed."

Graces frowned and weakly tried to move her hands, finding that what Neville had said was indeed true as her wrists couldn't lift up against the straps. Then she smiled, never opening her eyes."Mmmm didn't know you were so kinky, Longbottom."

Neville blushed red and looked up to see Madam Pomfrey scowling at him. "I think it is best you leave Miss Malfoy in my care, Mr. Longbottom. Everything is under control now, she will be perfectly fine by tomorrow."

Neville, still mortified, merely nodded and avoided the mediwitch's gaze as he slunk out of the hospital wing into the hall.

When Neville stepped out into the corridor, he couldn't have been more surprised by what was in front of him. Draco Malfoy was running, literally running, in a manner completely unfit for the stoic pureblood heir. His hair was mussed up around his face, and his eyes were wide with panic. When he saw Neville emerge from the wing he stopped dead in his tracks almost toppling over. He looked completely terrified and his lips began to tremble, and Neville watched as the proud boy had to catch himself on the nearest wall. He moved his eyes away from Neville and to the door of the Hospital wing.

Neville walked forward and reached out a hand to Draco to clasp his shoulder when he realized he was covered in Graces' blood. Draco's sister's blood had stained his clothes and was still warm on his hands. The sandy haired boy could only imagine what Draco had thought seeing him emerge from the hospital wing like this after the whole school was probably talking about how Graces was hurt in class. No doubt that everyone had elaborated on what happened in the Greenhouse making it sound more gruesome and terrible than it already was.

"Is she... is she-" Draco couldn't seem to finish his sentence and his voice was shaking.

"She's going to be okay."

The relief that washed over Draco was instant; Neville thought that he may still cry from it alone, but he didn't. He pulled himself up and erased the emotions that had been on his face. He couldn't hide it in his eyes, though; his eyes that were so much like his sister's in more ways than just color. He began striding to the door and paused while opening it, speaking over his shoulder to Neville. "If you're lying to me, Longbottom, and she's..." He couldn't even bring himself to say it aloud. "I will kill you."

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Neville, once again, was losing sleep over Graces Malfoy, and this time he wasn't losing sleep imagining her perfect lips on his or her smile that warmed his heart. No matter how hard he tried, every time he closed his eyes he saw her bleeding or seizing. It felt like there were a dozen snakes in his stomach slithering around. He just wanted to see Graces again, make sure she was alright. He was convinced that if he saw her and she was still well in the hospital wing, he would be able to sleep.

So he did the only thing he could think to do that would allow him to keep his sanity; he snuck out of the Gryffindor 6th year boys' room and into the hospital wing. He slowly opened the door to the hospital wing and peered around the wooden opening, looking to see if Madam Pomfrey or any other patients were awake. To his great relief the whole room was empty except for the faint blue glow of the moon and the soft breathing of the only patient in the wing. Neville slowly made his way over to Graces bed side. It was obvious by the flowers and small cards on the side of her bed that she had visitors Apparently, by the looks of it, the whole Slytherin house had visited. Piles of chocolate frogs and candies covered the dresser and small cards littered the area, untouched since she had clearly not woken up. Neville looked at the hand drawn ones, obviously from the younger years, that were not sealed in an envelope.

They had the normal get well greetings written on them, but it was the pictures that Neville was interested in. Most of them had poorly drawn pictures of Graces in what appeared to the Slytherin common room with younger years; in them she was leading lines of first years to the dungeons or helping with homework. One card in particular stood out from the rest, though. It was very well drawn, clearly done by someone who had a great talent in sketching with charcoal, and in it Graces was sitting with a child on her lap clearly giving comfort. Her face was set to still be firm. There was no smile or any obvious warmth, but she was holding the girl close and there was a handkerchief in her hand with the initials GM embroidered in it. Neville stood there looking at all the cards, pondering about what Graces must be like behind closed doors. She clearly was only cold towards those she didn't know or who were not in her own house. Obviously, she was good at being a prefect. In the halls it always seemed like she was stern with the younger years, but Neville supposed that she must be like McGonagall in that she was stern, but also warm in her own way.

He stared at the picture and thought of how much he longed to know the girl sketched in the drawing. He hated how closed off Graces had been with him since their night in the greenhouse. If possible, she had become more distant and stone-faced than she had been previously. It was frustrating beyond words for the Gryffindor boy. He had tried to be friendly in herbology, making small talk and that sort of thing, but Graces would always just ignore him unless he was talking about the project and even then, her words were clipped and didn't allow further conversation. Why couldn't she just talk to him? Give him a chance? What made him so inferior, that he couldn't be allowed the privilege to know her? She had slept with him easy enough, but she wouldn't go out for a simple drink with him? Or at least be friendly towards him as a partner?

He placed the drawing down and looked at the figure lying in the bed. The figure that he could never seem to get off his mind. The figure he had worried himself sick over all day. Graces was sleeping peacefully, there were no signs that she had suffered an injury. Her lips were back to being a pretty shade of pink and her hair was no longer saturated in her blood. For the first time all day, Neville's heart began beating at a regular pace. He hadn't even realized that it had been fluttering wildly in his chest all day with anxiety until that moment.

"You have no idea how frustrating it is to care about you," Neville said quietly, "It's awful. All I wanted was to sit in here today with you and I couldn't. If I had, everyone would wonder why. I honestly wouldn't give a dragon's dung what everyone thought, but I knew that you would be infuriated at the idea of me being by your side. Because, as you so delicately stated, I am not the kind of man you are supposed to end up with..."

Neville was glad Graces was asleep so she couldn't hear the hurt mixed with bitterness in his words."Is it really that awful the idea of being with me? I know I'm not the smartest or handsomest bloke at this school, but is the idea of being seen with me really that heinous? I can understand why you wouldn't want anyone knowing that we slept together, that was private... but you won't even get a drink with me or be friendly towards me when we are alone. You act as though nothing happened, like we never shared anything together... but we did. Sometimes I wish I could be like you and forget everything about that night when you ostracize and insult me, but I can't. When I look at you though, those few moments when you let your guard down, show the least bit of emotion, of yourself, I'm glad I can't. I don't want to. Every moment of the day I think of you, even when I sleep I dream of you.

"I shouldn't think of you, I should think of Hannah. She actually does like me. I have a bloody date with her tomorrow and everything. I am the worst person in the world. Hannah is sweet, kind, pretty and wants my affection, and all I can do is think about how I wish it was you I was going on a date with. I don't even know why I want to go on a date with you. You're not even nice to me unless you're drunk or are suffering a head injury... and even with the head injury you weren't very nice..."

Neville sat exasperated in the open seat by Graces bed and groaned into his hands. "I wish I could tell myself that it was just the sex, that I just lust for you, but I can't. I really like you... I have no idea why, you certainly are not nice to me, but I do. I find myself learning more and more small things about you that make me like you more. I like your smile, your sense of humor. I like that you always sneak a sweet in your mouth after history of magic. You think no one notices, but I do. I like how smart you are, but that you don't throw it in everyone's face like Hermione, and I like that you are always tutoring younger Slytherins in the library on Sunday night. That isn't a prefect's job, but you do it anyways, and despite how it sets us back in class, I find it endearing that you are so awful with plants."

Neville swallowed the sob that had launched itself into his throat. "I was so worried, I thought that you were... it was awful. For more reasons than just one. I couldn't lie to myself anymore and say that I didn't care about you. I care about you, more than I imagined I did. I couldn't even bring myself to leave your side until I heard you were well, and even then I couldn't stop worrying over you."

Neville reached out as if to touch her, but then stopped himself. He wanted to hold her hand to brush the back of his fingers against her soft cheeks, but he knew that if she were awake she wouldn't welcome the touch from him, so he put his hand down and continued to gaze at her sleeping form. Her body slowly moved up and down with her deep breaths, how relaxed she looked without that constant bitter expression stuck on her face, and when she turned over she would emit a small content sigh. It was nice, in a way, that Graces was sleeping, he was free to say what he wanted to her without worry and was free to look at her and not be caught staring.

He spent a good few hours watching her wistfully, memorizing the exact shape of her lips, admiring the color of her hair and trying to remember how soft her skin was. He wished she was awake only so he could look at her eyes. She had so much depth in those pools of quicksilver; as guarded as she was, her eyes often showed brief flickers of her true emotions.

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	7. Chapter 7

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Ernie asked, picking out a few acid pops from the display inside Honeydukes.

"No, not really," Neville yawned, following his friend.

Ernie smiled knowingly before nudging the shy Gryffindor good naturedly. "Too excited for your date with Hannah, huh?" he winked, causing Neville to blush and rub the back of his neck, not meeting the Hufflepuff's eye. "Don't be nervous, Nev. Hannah is just as excited. I doubt if she slept any either. You know, she hasn't been able to stop talking about you since Monday. It's really annoying actually. Not that I don't like you, but I definitely don't want to hear about how much she fancies you, or sit there while she wonders aloud if you're a good kisser."

Neville closed his eyes as guilt stabbed at his gut. Any time Hannah was mentioned it felt like a blade was twisting violently in his abdomen. He felt terrible. Hannah held so much affection for him, and all he did was think of Graces. He wished he had never agreed to this date, it was wrong when he didn't hold the same feelings and would only hurt Hannah. She didn't deserve that, she was a good friend.

"Neville," Ernie said soothingly as he draped an arm over the sandy haired boy's shoulders, "don't look like that. I'm sure you're a fine kisser, and even if you're not, Hannah won't know the difference. She's never kissed anyone before."

Neville just nodded, but continued to avoid Ernie's eye. What could he say? Ernie was one of Hannah's best friends. He couldn't tell him that he didn't have feelings like that for Hannah, let alone tell him about Graces.

"So have you?"

"Have I what?"

Ernie rolled his eyes. "Kissed a girl. Have you ever kissed a girl, or should I run ahead and tell Hannah not to have such high hopes?"

Neville blushed, before muttering that he had. Ernie looked as though he were going to ask Neville who, but got distracted by Draco and Blaise's sudden presence.

Draco Malfoy had not been in the store for two whole minutes before he was swarming the shelves, proceeding to buy anything and everything in sight. Neville moved between some shelves as Draco and Blaise made their way nearer to where he and Ernie were standing.

"Merlin's beard," Blaise moaned exasperatedly as Draco proceeded to clear the full shelf in front of him of chocolate frogs, "I highly doubt that Graces needs this much candy, Draco."

Draco shrugged and proceeded to examine the sugar quills, deciding on two white, peacock-shaped ones that had a mixture of pinks and purples. "Graces feels better when she has candy. I want her to feel better."

Blaise sighed, "She likes it when she is not feeling well emotionally. She was physically hurt."

"You know, as well as I, that she hasn't been right emotionally either. Something's been wrong since Saturday and it got worse Monday. So I figure, the more candy she has, the better she will feel. I'll buy the whole bloody store if I have to."

"Draco, you are being absolutely ridiculous, and I will not allow you to buy anymore candy. I can't have the future Mrs. Zabini becoming fat."

"First of all, my sister would never become the future Mrs. Zabini," Draco drawled, casually looking over the Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, "and secondly, my sister could be the fattest girl in Hogwarts and you would still love her."

"I never said that I wouldn't." Blaise was silent for a moment, as though he were debating if he should ask something. "Do you think she is upset over Nott?"

Draco frowned, but put the bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans down. "Why would she be upset over Nott?"

"Come on, Draco, they were dating since fourth year. Then at the end of last year they break up. Maybe she misses him."

"If she missed Nott, she could have him back. It's obvious he still wants to be with her... She didn't seem bothered by the break up over the summer."

"Well, I think she had other things on her mind then, didn't she?" Zabini countered discreetly, causing Draco to look away, obviously bothered. The dark skinned boy looked at his friend sympathetically for a moment, before continuing on with the subject. "Why did they break up?"

Draco shrugged, "She just said that she didn't have strong enough feelings for him."

"Strong enough feelings for him? Can't you two be normal and just say that she didn't love him?"

"Love is a term we Malfoys don't throw around. You may use it all you want to get into some girl's knickers, but we only use it if we mean it. When we love, we love forever."

"Awww, Draco, I didn't know you were so romantic."

Draco sent the dark skinned boy a glare, "I am not being romantic; I am simply stating a truth. That's why we don't love very many people. If we love someone, we will do anything for them... Even die for them," he added quietly, looking away to allow his emotions fall behind a cold mask. Blaise reached over to comfortingly clasp his friend's shoulder. At the same time Ernie reached over and dragged Neville away from the shelves.

"Why are you so interested in Malfoy?" he asked frowning.

"I'm not," At least not that one. "I was just hoping to hear if Gra- his sister was alright."

"Oh... I didn't realize you cared," Ernie said slowly, unconsciously tilting his head a bit.

"When you carry someone bleeding to the hospital wing, you're bound to care how they are."

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Graces waited patiently outside the Three Broomsticks for her brother. She was well aware that she could go in and take a seat, but she couldn't bring herself to enter the establishment alone. She knew that the moment she entered, she would look to see if Neville was enjoying his date with Abbott and even now the thought made her stomach clench with emotions she wasn't willing to look into. So she waited outside, nodding occasionally to fellow Slytherins as they passed her, to go through the doors. She wondered what it would take to convince Draco that they should go somewhere else. She considered playing off her brother's worry, saying that she had a headache and wished to be somewhere quieter, but if she did that he would probably take her straight back to the hospital wing. The last thing Graces wanted at that moment was to be back with Madam Pomfrey after the discussion they had just had.

After the mediwitch had cleared her to leave, she insisted that they talk privately about, as Madam Pomfrey so delicately put it, "personal matters". Graces had not expected that those personal matters would be her sex life. Madam Pomfrey had taken out her file, pushed it towards her and right there, highlighted in her patient information, it said 'sexually active'. Graces had cursed herself for not remembering how medical files were updated in the wizarding world. She should have remembered it was done by a spell, to ensure that all patient information was valid and nothing was ever missed. Of course, the mediwitch had been professional about the whole matter, asking how she was preventing pregnancy, if she wanted to be examined and assured her that her medical files were private on such a personal matter, even from her parents. With that knowledge she had accepted the potion, but refused the examination.

She could tell that the mediwitch had wanted to ask her more personal questions about the matter. She was almost sure she was curious as to whom she had slept with, but Graces would not allow it. It was inappropriate and really not any of her business whatsoever. She had played her father's daughter well through the whole discussion. She was sure that she had looked and spoken like a perfect imitation of Lucius Malfoy. She had answered the question with a mask of perfect ice, glaring down her nose at the mediwitch daring her to have the audacity to ask her anything more personal. The mediwitch seemed to have taken the hint and didn't. Graces had thought that she was going to escape this whole situation without any more awkwardness. Pomfrey had dismissed her from the hospital wing, but then right as she was about to step out of the ward the woman had stopped her.

"Miss Malfoy, I doubt you remember much from yesterday, but I thought you would like to know that Mr. Longbottom refused to leave your side until he was sure you were well. He said that he couldn't leave you with someone you didn't trust. I assume that means that you have placed trust in him." Graces had at the time, though her heart was pounding in her chest, and she made sure to school her face completely blank while she waited for the mediwitch to continue. "That being said, I just wanted to let you know that I can think of no other person more deserving of such trust."

"Do not confuse a lack of distrust with trust, Madam Pomfrey," Graces had replied darkly, scowling at the witch before her. She wondered if Pomfrey knew what had happened between her and Neville. She was certain that Neville would not have told, but was his behavior easily read when he had stayed with her? Graces quickly put those thoughts away as she saw Draco coming towards her carrying bags upon bags of sweets.

My gods, what has he done now! Graces thought affectionately, unable to keep a smile from tugging at her lips.

"Is this for me?" she asked, already peering into a large bag that was filled to the brim with chocolate frogs.

Draco smirked playfully, "Who else would I buy such a ridiculous amount of chocolate for?" Graces smiled appreciatively and plucked one of the chocolates from the top. She immediately felt the stress of her conversation with the mediwitch diminish as the chocolate began to melt on her tongue.

"There, feel better?" Draco inquired, shrinking all the bags and handing them over for Graces to pocket.

"Of course, chocolate makes everything better."

"That is not a healthy way of thinking, Graces," Blaise groaned.

"Why not? It helps after being near dementors and dementors suck every happy feeling and memory out of one's soul. They try to reduce you into becoming like them: empty, soulless, evil, rotting from the inside, until you are so decayed from the person that you once were that you are just an empty shell of flesh that breathes. If chocolate is capable of aiding in the recovery from a dementor attack, then I think it is only fair that we utilize it for aiding in other matters," Graces lectured, tearing off the legs of another chocolate frog and popping them in her mouth.

Draco smiled smugly at his sister's logic as Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine, I don't think it's healthy, but what do I know? Anyways, I better head in. I have a date waiting for me in there."

"A date?" Graces exclaimed in mock hurt, placing the back of her hand to her forehead and swooning. "Darling, say it isn't so."

"Oh my love, you know it means nothing, just fun and games until you are ready to settle down with me," the dark skinned boy winked before entering into the Three Broomsticks.

Draco was just about to push open the door when Graces placed her hand on his arm, causing him to turn around with a small frown.

"Can't we go somewhere else?" she asked quietly, causing her brother to raise an aristocratic eyebrow in response. "We could just shop or take a walk along the lake," she suggested as her eyes avoided Draco's piercing gaze.

"We always go into the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer, always. It's like a tradition for us. You usually look forward to it. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Graces denied, "I just thought we could do something different."

"You've been acting so strange lately," Draco hesitated for a moment, "Is this about Nott?"

"Nott?" Graces asked in surprise.

"Yes... do you miss him?"

"Of course not." Graces scowled and opened the door while shooting her brother a dirty look over her shoulder. "You should know me better than that."

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Neville sat in the booth across from Hannah, trying not to feel so awkward with the situation at hand. He kept telling himself that this was Hannah, they had been friends for years, but a nagging voice in his head kept pointing out that he had never had any real expectations from her before. Ever since he had accepted this date he was beginning to see more and more that Hannah liked him, possibly was in love with him, and she wanted him to feel the same.

"You... uh, you look really nice Hannah," Neville complimented nervously, trying to break the silence that had ensued the moment they sat down. He didn't lie, though. It was true, Hannah did look very nice. Her hair wasn't done in its usual braids and she was wearing a very nice green top that accented the green in her eyes.

"Thanks, I'm so glad that we are doing this, Nev," Hannah gushed, smiling joyously at him. Neville gave a tight smile and nodded in return. "Aren't you happy?" she asked nervously, her smile starting to waver.

"Of course, I guess I'm just nervous," he lied, not wanting to see Hannah hurt. It seemed to quell the worry that had briefly touched her and she reached out, placing a comforting hand on Neville's wrist.

"You don't have to be nervous with me, Nev," she said, smiling sweetly, "after all most people are only nervous on dates because they don't know if the other person fancies them or not and, well, I already fancy you."

Neville winced at Hannah's confession. Luckily, she didn't notice, as she was blushing scarlet at her own boldness and looking away. They sat in awkward silence for a moment. Neville tried to focus on anything but Hannah. He listened to the quiet chatter of the room and looked at all the pictures hanging around the pub that he had never given much thought to before.

"Have you... have you ever been on a date before?" Hannah asked conversationally, though Neville suspected she was genuinely curious.

"Yeah... sort of." He murmured, not really liking where this conversation was going.

"Oh? Who?"

"Well... I, uh, took Ginny to the Yule Ball in fourth year..."

"Does that really count?" Hannah inquired skeptically.

Neville frowned, "Yes, it does." For some reason it bothered him that Hannah didn't seem to think that counted. Maybe it was because he wasn't the most popular guy, to say the least, but he always comforted himself that he at least could find a date to the Yule Ball.

Hannah seemed to realize that she had offended Neville and quickly let the question drop. "Have you ever kissed a girl?"

Neville narrowed his eyes at Hannah, "Why are you asking me this?"

"I... I just want to know..." Hannah admitted, nervously playing with a strand of her hair, "I... I'm sorry if I'm ruining this. I've just never been on a date before. And I, well, I suppose I just didn't know what to talk about, and I've been wondering if you have or not. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." she murmured quietly. "I just figured, since we already know one another as friends, maybe we should talk about more personal things."

The sandy haired Gryffindor sighed, "Yes, I have kissed girls." Hannah looked up as though to ask who, but Neville cut her off. "I don't kiss and tell. It's private." And it was private. He had awkwardly kissed Ginny after the Yule Ball, he had thought he should. Seamus, Dean and all the other boys had been talking about kissing their dates like it was expected. It was a total disaster, he had no idea what he was doing and Ginny obviously wasn't expecting it. It was even more mortifying when she made it clear that she just wanted to be friends. He just thanked the Gods that she had never told anyone, especially any of her brothers. Then there was Graces... No, I will not think of kissing Graces with Hannah right here.

"H-have you done anything else?"

Neville, who had just pressed his butterbeer to his lips, ended up almost spilling its contents all over himself at the question. "That is extremely private."

Hannah nodded, and before she could let the subject drop, as she should have, she just continued on with her nervous babbling. "I... I haven't done anything. I've never been on a date before. Did you know that this was my first date? I didn't have one for the Yule Ball, not really. Ernie took Susan Bones. Zach wanted to go stag, but he did dance with me a few times. You did too for that matter; you're a really good dancer." Hannah smiled shyly up at him through her hair. "Though I'm sorry you couldn't say the same for me."

Neville chuckled at the memory, "You weren't that bad."

"I'm pretty sure I broke your toe at one point."

Neville smiled warmly at her, "You just need to practice, that's all. Besides, my gran was dragging me to formal dance lessons the moment I turned six. I had an unfair advantage."

"Maybe you could practice with me?" Hannah suggested hopefully.

"Maybe," Neville repeated distractedly as he noticed Graces walk by him. She didn't even turn or move her head. Neville wondered idly if she even saw him.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Neville looked to his side and saw Draco looking down his nose at him, a nasty sneer on his lips. "Could it be, Longbottom, that you actually managed to get a date?" Draco then turned his cold, gray eyes to Hannah, giving her a predatory grin. "Well, if one could call a half-blood a proper date, but I suppose that isn't too bad for you now is it, Longbottom? I mean, it is one step up from a mud-blood and two from a dog. Though, a dog may look better."

Neville let out an angry roar, pouncing up from his seat and whipping out his wand and pointing it at the blond git in front of him. Draco just smiled sadistically at Neville's fury, he already had his wand poised in front of him. "Oh look, the kitten has claws."

Neville bared his teeth as he considered whether or not he could hex Malfoy before he could put up a counter curse; unfortunately he did not get the chance to see. Graces calmly stepped between the two fighting boys, placing her delicate hand on Draco's wand and slowly lowering it until it was pointing at the floor. Draco gazed at his sister with an expression that you could have taken as betrayal, confusion, or both.

"Does my life mean so little to you, brother?" she asked quietly. Neville could only see the back of her head, but he imagined she was staring imploringly at Draco, whose eyes never wavered from hers as his face darkened.

"How could you even ask me such a question?"

"How could you insult the man that aided in saving my life yesterday if you value me? You should be giving thanks to him, not insulting him in this manner." Neville admired how cool and calm Graces could be. She didn't look back at him to see his reaction, and if she minded that he still had his wand out and was pointing it towards her back, leaving her incredibly vulnerable, her body language did not give her away. She acted as though he was not there. "You owe Longbottom an apology, Draco."

The older Malfoy's face hardened at that suggestion, "Absolutely not, Malfoys do not apologize."

"Malfoys also do not act in a way that is dishonorable," Graces countered coldly, sending a shiver along Neville's back. Draco just stared at his sister, clearly unable to believe that she would ever question him like this in public. Graces let out an impatient huff and whirled around so that she was facing Neville. She raised a poised eyebrow at his wand which was still suspended in the air and pointed at her heart. Neville blushed and put it away.

Graces gave him a bemused smile as she took out her own wand and sliced open her palm. Neville couldn't help but admire how she didn't even flinch. Draco took hold of her arm as though to stop her, but she sent him a venomous look that immediately had him backing away. "Thank you for saving my life, Neville Alastor Longbottom. I owe you a life debt and by the blood that flows so freely from my veins, thanks to you, I swear to repay that debt. And I ask also for your forgiveness on behalf of my brother for insulting you earlier."

Neville could not believe that Graces was presenting him with a formal life debt; if he did not accept it her hand would continue to bleed until she died. Wizards and witches rarely gave formal life debts. Not only did she just place her life back into his hands, but as part of the formal life debt he could choose how she would repay him. He had a feeling that she was only doing this because her brother had insulted him in such a way that if she did not their honor would be at risk. If Draco had just apologized, she probably would have just allowed a normal life debt to be between them. One where neither of them had to acknowledge the bond, but if the opportunity ever presented itself she would have to repay the debt.

"I accept, and thank the Gods that life is still within you and that I had the honor to preserve it," Neville replied, thankful that he was raised with some pureblood customs and for once remembered the words to such old rituals.

Graces' hand immediately healed and a faint scar was now visible on her palm, a scar that would not leave her until she repaid her life debt to him. Neville looked up at Graces. Her face was still composed, but it lacked its usual coldness.

"I'm glad to see you're well," the sandy haired boy said giving her a timid smile. "You really scared me yesterday."

Graces actually gave him a genuine smile, "I thought Gryffindors didn't get scared?"

Neville grinned, remembering their conversation in the Greenhouse. "Who told you such a vicious lie?" he asked feigning offense.

Graces actually giggled at the banter and Neville felt something in him stir at the musical sound that was escaping her lips.

"Shouldn't you still be in the hospital wing, though?" Neville asked, concerned.

"Do you think Madam Pomfrey would let me leave if I wasn't well?" Neville was happy to see that Graces was still being friendly towards him.

"Well... no, but you're a Malfoy. I doubt she could stop you."

Graces just smiled warmly at Neville, who couldn't help but give her a shy half smile in return. This was the girl he was falling for, the girl he wanted to see more and more of. She was funny, charismatic, bright, beautiful and had a smile that could instantly make him catch his breath.

An impatient noise from behind Neville shattered their moment. Neville turned to see Hannah impatiently tapping her fingers on the table. Graces, who had not even glanced at Hannah until this point, immediately went back to her original cold demeanor. She nodded formally to Neville as he took his seat back in the booth with Hannah and then turned to leave.

"Wait!" Draco called, looking infuriated beyond belief. "Longbottom has not named how he wants the life debt repaid. Surely you are not going to just walk away without discussing this?"

"Draco," Graces warned darkly staring at her brother with piercing eyes, "that will be between me and Longbottom. Life debts are very private matters, as you well know."

Draco growled and took the seat opposite of Neville, so he was sitting by Hannah who gave an indignant cry. "What are you going to ask my sister for, Longbottom?" Draco's eyes looked almost wild as he glared at him. Neville, startled by how ferocious Draco was being, just stared at him not knowing what to say. "Well?"

Graces calmly came over and sat by Neville placing a hand on the Gryffindor's shoulder. "Draco, stop this. You are behaving like a mad man, what is wrong with you?"

"You made a formal life debt with a known blood traitor! Do you have any idea what kind of power you have given him! Think of what he could ask of you, Graces!"

Graces stilled, as some color seemed to have drained from her face. "Longbottom would never ask anything of me that is too much. He is a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin."

"He is friends with Harry Potter, Graces; do not think for a moment he wouldn't ask something of you for the light."

Graces stared at her brother for a moment, before turning slowly to Neville with her quicksilver eyes. She looked as though she were searching for something as she stared at him, but he didn't know what. Graces had a way of making him feel like his head was open for all his thoughts to be read by her stare.

"You should ask for information about You-Know-Who, Neville," Hannah chided from the booth, unhappy about being ignored for so long. Neville turned and looked at her; she was staring at Draco with a look of utter disdain.

Draco's eyes met his and Neville knew in that moment that he could very well ask such a question. He could see the fear that was etched in Draco's face, how nervous he was despite the glare he was giving him. Part of him knew that asking Graces would be the right thing to do; he could help Harry and possibly save lives, and yet he knew he couldn't ask such a thing. If he did he would endanger Graces.

He turned and looked at the proud girl sitting next ; she looked almost bored as she stared at him waiting for his price. "Would you... if you don't mind... tutor me in potions?"

Graces frowned; clearly she was not expecting such a request. "Tutor you?"

Neville blushed, "Yeah... "

"Don't you have Granger for that?" Graces asked scowling.

"I hear you're a good tutor..."

"Where did you hear that?" Hannah asked clearly as surprised by Neville's request as the rest of the table.

"Just... well... you tutor the younger years, don't you?" Graces nodded, her eyes still studying Neville. "I just thought that maybe you could help me..."

Graces sat back a puzzled look on her face. "I accept."

"Graces," Draco hissed, "you can't spend that kind of time with a known blood traitor! And especially not one that aided in sending our father to Azkaban!"

"Shut up, Draco! You know, considering the things Longbottom could have asked for I would say that I got off extremely lucky. Do not forget that if you hadn't been such an arse, I never would have had to make such a formal vow!" Graces was now standing, trembling with rage. "You said you wanted to spend time with me, that you wanted to make me feel better. You brought me here for a good time, and all you have done since entering this establishment is care more about bothering Longbottom! Do you honestly care more about making his life miserable than making my life happy?! Now I am upset, angry, in debt to Longbottom here and I have a headache!"

Draco and Neville's eyes widened at her last statement. Draco immediately stood and took his sister's arm. "You have a headache? We should go see Madam Pomfrey, how long have you had it?"

Graces wretched her arm away and glared at her brother. "Don't touch me! You don't get to decide now that you want to be my loving brother. I can make it back to Hogwarts without you, thankyouverymuch."

"I can walk with you," Neville offered, standing as though to begin walking with her right then and there.

"Neville!" Hannah cried outraged, "We're on a date!"

Neville flushed, "She can't walk alone, Hannah. She really was hurt yesterday. She had cerebrospinal fluid leaking from her nose; I can't just let her walk alone."

Graces raised an eyebrow at Neville, clearly impressed that he had known what the fluid was, but then schooled her features back into a scowl. "I don't need you playing hero for me anymore, Longbottom. Just stay on your date." She spat the last word out as if it left distaste in her mouth just saying it.

"Graces, you are being unreasonable. I am taking you to the castle." Draco looked as though he would just grab her right there and then, but Graces took her wand out threateningly.

"I'll have Blaise take me," she then turned and called Blaise who was in a dark booth a few tables away snogging some Ravenclaw girl senseless.

Blaise stopped his endeavors and smiled, standing up and striding over to the very upset looking group. "My desert blossom! You called and I am here, ask me anything and it shall be yours."

Graces rolled her eyes at Blaise's antics while Neville tried not to show his own jealousy. "Blaise, will you take me to the castle? I have a headache and am mad at my prat brother."

"Zabini is on a date," Neville pointed out, not at all liking the thought of the school casanova taking Graces to the castle. "Why would you allow him to take you and not me?"

Graces stared at Neville as if he had grown another head. She would have thought it obvious as to why she was allowing her friend to take her over him.

"Because Longbottom, Graces is my future wife and not just a fun shag. She knows that I will tend to her every need." The Ravenclaw girl that he had been sitting with looked on the verge of tears at the handsome boy's proclamation. Graces scoffed and said something about arrogant Slytherins who need to get a grip on reality. "Come, my dear, off to the castle we go."

Draco stood for a few moments, seething in rage, before stomping over to Crabbe and Goyle a few tables over and going on a tirade about how awful it was to have a sister.

Neville returned to his date with Hannah, but it was obvious to both students that it was ruined. Neither one was really focused on each other, both were thinking of the events that had occurred earlier. After a while they made their way back to the castle.

"Why were you willing to leave our date?" Hannah asked, hurt evident in her voice, "You and Malfoy aren't even friends."

Neville sighed. He really didn't have a good answer for that, at least one that would spare Hannah's feelings. He knew he couldn't tell her the whole truth, either. "I guess I just feel responsible in away."

"What do you mean?"

"I was the one that should have been watching the plant yesterday. It's my fault that it attacked her like that."

"That's not your fault, Neville," Hannah comforted softly, her face no longer hardened.

"I know, but I still feel guilty."

They walked silently for a while the castle in the distance becoming bigger, little by little, at their every step. "Neville, why didn't you ask her for information? This war is going to be awful; you could have got information that would have saved lives."

"Information that would have cost her hers." Hannah winced at how cold Neville sounded. "I do not want Graces Malfoy's blood on my hands. Having it on me once was enough."

Hannah nodded in understanding. "You're a good man, Neville. Most people wouldn't think of the consequences." She worried her lip for a moment as they entered the castle and stood by the staircases to say their goodbyes. "I know this wasn't the most... well... it wasn't what I expected our first date to be like, but I'm still glad that we went." Hannah had moved closer to Neville so that they were practically touching chest to chest. Her head was tilted up towards him like a sunflower to the sun, and she was so close he could feel her breath mingling with his. He remembered what Ernie had said earlier about her wanting to kiss him and she was sending that message rather bluntly as she stared into his eyes.

The sandy haired Gryffindor became instantly uncomfortable with the situation. He looked away trying to think of something to say, "Listen Hannah, I-" Neville's words were immediately silenced by Hannah's lips pressing against his. It wasn't a long kiss, just a gentle goodnight kiss, completely innocent, but as innocent as it was Neville still couldn't help feeling wrong about it. Hannah's flushed face lingered near his and it was obvious that she enjoyed/appreciated the kiss. Neville wondered if she even realized that he didn't participate. Her arms continued to remain wrapped around his neck and she had a gentle sweet smile on her as she looked down bashfully, clearly not realizing that he wasn't comfortable with the intimacy. This must be how Ginny felt when I kissed her.

Slowly, so as not to offend Hannah, Neville pulled away. As he did, Hannah moved down from her tip toes and gave him a dazed smile, letting her hands fall from around his neck to against his chest. Neville wished that he could enjoy this. He desperately wished that he could choose to fall in love with Hannah. It made sense to fall in love with Hannah. She should have been everything he could ever want. She was cute, sweet, kind, light, patient and was not from a family where her father tried to kill him months ago. Neville stared down at the girl with sincere regret. He realized that Hannah never would be able to make his blood boil with a fever he never knew existed and that when her lips pressed against his he had felt no compulsion to continue kissing her. He knew that if Graces was standing this close to him his heart would be pounding in his chest with anticipation, and if she had been the one to offer him a gentle kiss good night he would have held her close and kissed her as though she were the anchor to the living world. Hell, if Graces had kissed me goodnight I probably would have taken her to a dark corner and would still be kissing her. Kissing Graces was so different in comparison to kissing Hannah that Neville felt it shouldn't even be called the same act.

"Neville?"

Neville pinked, realizing how much time had passed, and forced himself to give Hannah a small half smile. Not knowing what else to say or do, just knowing he needed to get away from this whole situation to think, Neville wished Hannah a good night, before starting up the stairs to the Gryffindor tower.

Neville was halfway up the stairs, still lost in thoughts about Graces, when he noticed that the very person he could not get out of his head was sitting in the middle of the staircase watching him. Graces Malfoy was looking directly at him, a look of hurt fleeting over her face before she schooled it away. It was so brief that Neville thought that maybe he hadn't seen it, but as he drew nearer to her he saw the remnants of a tear on her cheek.

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For the first time in a week, the small aching pain she felt whenever she thought of Neville had disappeared from her. It had fled away since their encounter at the Three Broomsticks. She had been so surprised by how pleasant the encounter was and then even more so when Neville had not taken advantage of her life debt to him. Foolishly, she had decided that she wanted to thank him and even more, foolhardily, she was excited to tutor him. Then she saw him kiss Hannah. Graces cursed herself three times for being so upset. She knew very well that she, Graces Bellatrix Malfoy, should not be crying over Neville Longbottom, but she was. As much as she wanted to believe that she didn't care, she knew now that she did. She hurt somewhere so deep inside her that she was convinced the area had not existed there before.

I'm an idiot, such an idiot. What's wrong with me? I knew this couldn't be and now here I am crying like some stupid girl over a guy I have no right to want. I shouldn't be here... I shouldn't be here.

"I shouldn't be here. This was a mistake." All Graces wanted was to disappear from Neville's stare. She moved from where she was and tried to maneuver past him so he couldn't catch her eye, but the Gryffindor wouldn't let her. He caught her shoulders, in the way that only a Gryffindor would, the way that made a person have to look at them, that forced someone to face them, and did not allow them to move their gaze away.

"You're upset. Why are you upset?"

Graces tried to turn away from Neville's eyes and wished that his voice didn't sound so genuinely concerned. It just made everything hurt more, made her want him more, regret things more.

"I'm not upset. I just... this was a mistake."

"Why is being here a mistake? I don't understand. Graces, what's wrong?"

Graces could feel all her emotions beginning to bubble under the surface of her skin, it felt like ants were crawling from her stomach through her veins, she could barely breath as the feeling in her chest became tighter and tighter. "DON'T!" She pushed away from Neville with such force she almost toppled from the stairs herself. "Just don't," she whispered, feeling a lump in her throat beginning to grow.

She stared at the stones in the wall while she desperately willed herself to get a grip. She couldn't look at Neville, not when he looked at her like that. Like he cared. He probably does care. Neville Longbottom is the kind of guy that cares when a girl cries. The lump in her throat began to throb painfully at that thought.

"Graces, what are you doing here?"

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"Don't say my name," Neville sighed and would have protested, but then Graces looked at him and he saw the same brokenness in her eyes he had seen in the greenhouse when she cried and asked him to help take her pain away.

Despite what he wanted, when she looked like that, he couldn't bring himself to protest. "Fine," he said gently, moving up a few steps so that they were closer. "Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

"Yeah! What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Ron spat from behind Neville with Harry and Hermione close to him.

Neville turned back to see that whatever was exposed of Graces earlier was vanished now from her face. There was no trace of hurt, vulnerability or brokenness, just a contemptuous sneer and cold eyes.

"That is none of your concern, Weasel."

Neville sighed at such a drastic turn of events; this was not supposed to be happening. "Ron, please can you just give us a moment?"

"A moment? Neville, why on earth would you want a moment with Malfoy?" the red headed boy asked, flabbergasted. "What is she even doing here?"

Neville didn't know how to answer that, so he turned towards Graces. Hermione and Harry watched, just as surprised to see a Slytherin so close to the tower. They usually kept far away from one another's common rooms.

"Not that it is any of your concern, but I owe Mr. Longbottom a life debt, we made a formal one earlier and he asked me to tutor him," Graces answered coolly, "I came here to discuss that."

"Why didn't you just discuss it with him in herbology?" Hermione inquired looking at the Slytherin suspiciously.

Graces blushed and looked as though she didn't know how to answer that.

"Wait a minute," Ron broke in, "Neville, she offered you a formal life debt?" Neville nodded slowly. "And you asked for tutoring?! Nev, why didn't you ask for information on You-Know-Who? You saw her father at the ministry. You know her family has information."

A look of realization hit Harry, "He could have asked for that?"

"It's a formal life debt," Hermione said slowly, never removing her eyes from the pair in front of her, "He could have asked her almost anything and she would have to answer or she would die. Neville, I tutor you, why would you ask for tutoring? Do you have any idea how valuable that information would have been to us?"

Neville knew this was not good. Ron was looking at him with betrayal, while Harry and Hermione were just waiting for a reply, obviously waiting to make their judgment.

"I... I..." He looked over at Graces, who was staring at him with such intensity that he wondered if she knew the reason already. "I didn't want her to die. If I asked her to give me that information she would have been killed."

"That information could have saved others!" Ron scolded, his face turning red with frustration and fury. "Her dying would just rid us of another death eater that we would have to fight in the final battle!"

Ron had never seen Neville look so stern; he never thought the shy boy he shared a room with could ever look so much like Snape. "She is not a Death Eater," Neville hissed with venom before turning and grabbing a startled Graces' arm and pulling up her sleeve to expose her bare, pale forearm for them to see. "Look. No mark, she is not a Death Eater, she doesn't deserve—"

*Smack*

Neville put a tentative hand on his burning cheek as the echo from Graces' assault sounded in the stairway. He looked over at Graces in utter shock. She had smacked him. He was trying to defend her and she smacked him.

"You had no right," she said, voice trembling with emotion, before she departed from the group, leaving four very stunned Gryffindors in her wake.

"And you want her to tutor you?" Harry gawked, his green eyes wide with shock. "Merlin's underpants, Neville, she is crazy."

Neville closed his eyes. He could still feel the heat mingled with a sting from Graces slap. "She may be crazy, but she isn't a Death Eater." He turned and looked at Ron. "You had no right to insinuate that her life was not worth saving."

"Come off it, Nev," Ron said, rolling his eyes, "Her father and Aunt were at the Ministry. You know better than anyone where her life is heading."

"She's not there yet," Neville said, standing tall. He was slightly surprised to see that he was almost taller than Ron. He usually was slouching and trying to make himself as small as possible; it was quite the change for him to be standing so tall against Ron. It reminded him of first year when he first stood up to the trio, "and I'm not going to be responsible for her death."

"She's a Malfoy!" Ron protested, looking to Harry to back him up.

"She's a person!" Neville bellowed, heading down the stairs. He decided that the last thing he wanted to do was go up to the Gryffindor tower and be with his roommates.

Neville faintly heard Hermione scolding Ron in the distance, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Everything with Graces was just so complicated and frustrating. It seemed that for every good moment they had there were five terrible ones. And now she was going to be tutoring him. He silently wondered how that was going to pan out. So far it seemed as though it would be a disaster.

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By the time Graces reached the outskirts of the lake, she realized that she was crying. Everything had just gone so wrong. She had wanted to catch Neville before he reached the tower and thank him. It sounded so foolish now. She knew he was on a date, that Hannah would probably walk with him to the stairs, but she wanted to see him and thank him for not taking advantage of her life debt to him, and for saving her life. A life she now realized was valued so little by others in the school.

But he values it.

We'll see how much he values it when you have the Dark Mark on your arm, a snide voice said in the back of her head.

Graces closed her eyes and tried desperately to will the tears to stop flowing from her. It didn't bother her so much that Neville was defending her; she honestly was flattered that he was so willing to stand up against his friends for her. And it was surprisingly hot to see him go so cold and angry, but he defended her on the grounds that she was not a Death Eater. And he had exposed her arm out to them as though he needed to prove that she was worth defending.

I need to stop caring; this is getting out of hand. So what if he doesn't think I am worth defending with the mark? It shouldn't matter to me. Odds are one day I am going to be pointing my wand at him with an unforgivable on my lips. I should be thankful that he won't care about me then. It will make it easier to do what I need to do.

Why would him not caring make it easier? It shouldn't matter to you anyways. You should be able to kill him regardless of his feelings towards you.

Graces closed her eyes to the cold voice in her head. It was right, it was logical, it made perfect sense in her head, but for some reason it felt wrong. The thought of killing Neville, or even hurting him, made her insides feel as though they were twisting so violently in her that she was going to die herself. The thought of him not valuing her made her want to break down like the girls in soppy veela novels and cry.

"What's wrong with me?" she moaned aloud to the darkness around her, not truly wanting an answer.

"Graces?"

Graces turned, not bothering to hide the tears on her cheeks, and threw herself into Draco's arms. The blond boy was surprised at first, but quickly embraced his sister who began to sob uncontrollably into him.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I didn't mean to... to make you feel like this..."

"Oh Draco, it's not all you," Graces sobbed into his chest, hiding her tears which were beginning to soak his shirt.

Draco stood there for a moment in silence, the only noise being his sister's soft hiccups. "But some of it is..."

"I just wanted to be with you today," Graces said, her voice thick with anguish, "I wanted to spend time with someone who knows and loves me. I'm so scared that you won't be here that much longer, and when you're gone I'll have no one. No one to care about me, to value me, to love and to love me unconditionally."

She clung tighter to Draco as she spoke, using his body to anchor her to the world that she no longer cared to be in.

"This war is going to take everything from me. I've lost father, mother is just a shell without him, and I am going to lose you. I want it to end, can't we leave? Can't we take our money and run away. Live somewhere far away from this war, where no one can find us?"

"And leave mother?" Draco asked with no emotion, "Give up and let father rot away in Azkaban?"

"They made their choices!" Graces wailed pulling away. "Why should we be responsible for saving the damned? Father chose to bow down to that half-blood. We didn't! We still have a chance Draco, please!"

Draco growled and pulled up his sleeve exposing the Dark Mark to his sister, "I have made my choice, Graces. I choose family. I choose the opportunity to gain back what we have lost. I choose father, I choose mother and I choose you. If they are damned, I choose to be damned as well. To run away will seal their deaths, and ours, if we are ever found."

"Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard alive," Graces whispered, not caring how much of a coward she was being. "The Dark Lord is afraid of him. How will you manage to kill him? The Dark Lord gave you this mission to kill you. When you are gone he will turn and come after me next!"

"You don't think I know all this?" Draco hissed, "Do you not think that I lay in bed contemplating what will happen to you, to mum, if I fail? I am well aware of the situation we are in. Father's responsibilities to our family have fallen onto my shoulders! Your life is now in my hands! If I fail your death is on me! The only thing I have to be thankful for is that I will at least not have to witness it, BECAUSE I WILL BE KILLED FIRST!"

Draco watched as his sister cried freely into the palms of her hands. He had no idea what comfort to give her. Any comfort he gave her would only soothe momentarily, she needed to accept what was happening and live with it. He could not lie or sugar coat what was to come, because doing that would be doing more harm than good in the end.

Why does she need to prepare for what is to come? Her arm is unmarked, she is the youngest and there is no responsibility on her shoulders yet. You want her to stay and be strong for you, because you, despite your facade, need her. She still has a chance to go away, to flee and to live out a life far away from this destruction.

Draco closed his eyes and willed the next words out of his mouth. They felt heavy on his tongue and he could feel them even as they escaped his lips trying to choke him. "You can leave. I will empty a vault for you and you can leave. Live among muggles for the rest of—"

"I'm no coward!" Graces screamed, wiping away the remnants of her tears and facing her brother head on. Her eyes, despite the redness encircling them, looked as savage as fire. "Where you go, I go. If you are to stay, so shall I. I love you, I would rather die living out my time with the ones I love than hide away and live without. I was willing to run if it would mean you running with me. If you won't, I won't."

"You don't have to, though," Draco knew he was close to tears; his voice was thick from not allowing them to come. "You were right, we are not responsible for saving the damned. I have made my choice, but you still could choose another path. And I would be happy knowing you were alive and well somewhere far away."

Graces let out a strangled sob before throwing her arms around Draco's neck in a tight embrace. "Not without you. We will face all of this together." Graces forced a small, encouraging smile. "Maybe it will all work out and you will kill that old bat. You did, after all, manage to break Potter's nose before school even started.

Draco chuckled, "Yes, too bad he fixed it before everyone could admire my handiwork." They sat down by the lake, both acknowledging without words that this discussion was over. They knew that if they allowed it to, their worry would overtake their lives, that this would be the center of their thoughts to the point where they would drive themselves mad. The future was up in the air; the best course of action was to allow what comes to come and live their lives without the shadow of death darkening it.

"I really need you now," Draco admitted softly, admiring the night sky over the lake and wondering if he would be allowed such comforts for much longer.

Graces just leaned her head down on her brother's shoulder in reply. She was there, she wasn't going to leave, they were family. She didn't need to say pointless assurances to tell Draco that. He knew because she was sitting there now. Everything else in her life she was unsure of, but Draco was a constant. She now at least knew where she stood with him and with this war. She stood not on the Dark Lord's side, but on her brother's. If he stood beside a crazed mad man, then she stood there too. Everything else was complicated, but at least this was not.


	8. Chapter 8

Neville, with nothing else to do, thought about the night before. He had spent his time not gaining necessary sleep—which he hadn't properly had in what felt like ages—but instead wandering the halls of Hogwarts and trying to understand Graces' reaction on the staircase. He had decided that Graces Malfoy must be five different people in one body; it was the only explanation for how drastically her person changed on a daily basis.

That being decided, he realized that he was more dim than he thought before. Despite his realization that Graces was insane, he was still hiding out in the hall by the library, wasting the last precious hours of his weekend and waiting for her to appear. He had considered just venturing in, asking for a private word with her and getting this whole mess over with, but he didn't fancy having half the Slytherin house taking notice of him. He knew, without a doubt, that Graces would have been, if possible, even more cold towards him with her house watching, so he waited. He still had no idea what he was going to say to her. He wanted to ask why she was on the stairs, why she was upset that day in Herbology, why she insisted on being so cruel towards him one minute and then pleasant the next, but he had no idea how to articulate into words what he was feeling or thinking. He wondered if Graces even knew herself how she felt.

Quiet murmurs alerted him that the young Slytherins were done being tutored and were beginning to exit the library. Neville peeked out from the corner and watched as they all turned down the hall towards the dungeons.

"Higgs, could you hold on a moment?" Graces voice called out to a group of 3rd years. Neville watched as a small boy walked slowly over to her. Neville tried to get a look at the young boy plodding towards Graces. He could see that he had dark hair, but his face was hidden from view as he looked down at his shoes. He appeared to be small for a third year, but Neville realized as the boy came closer that he only appeared that way because of how he held himself.

Graces said nothing at first. She stared down at the shy boy for a moment, obviously scrutinizing every detail of him. Neville watched as Graces then reached out her hand and placed a delicate finger under the boy's strong chin. She pulled his head up before smoothly walking around him, pressing her hand gently in the middle of his back, pulling back his shoulders gently, until his posture was as perfect as her own. The boy blushed, but maintained the position she had arranged him in.

"You are a Slytherin and a pureblood. I will not have you holding yourself with anything less than pride. You are a representative of our house and of your lineage. Do you understand?"

The small boy nodded at Graces' words, which caused her to give him a scolding look. "Y-y-yes."

"Good," Graces said in a clipped voice, before smiling softly and kneeling down so that she was just a bit below the young boy. She turned to her side and took out the drawing that had been at her bedside when she was in the hospital wing. "This is lovely, Thomas," she said quietly, letting the gratitude show in her face.

"I'm g-gl-glad y-you l-like it," Thomas stuttered, his face clearly straining against his speech impediment. It was obvious that the boy was embarrassed by his speech; Neville was even embarrassed for him. He remembered how cruelly everyone would taunt Professor Quirrell behind his back. He could only imagine how this boy was taunted. He was, after all, in Slytherin, a house whose occupants were known to be especially cruel.

Graces just continued to smile at him with a soft expression as though she didn't notice. "You're very talented Thomas; I've never had a more beautiful picture of myself," she paused for a moment and smiled in that way that could melt a heart and steal breath, "Or a more thoughtful gift. When did you draw it?"

Thomas licked his lips and closed his eyes. "T-the f-first we-we-week this s-s-s-emes-ster."

Graces just nodded before standing up gracefully and pressing a gentle kiss on the nervous boy's cheek. His eyes widened considerably for a moment before he schooled an indifferent face on, but that still didn't hide his blush.

"You may go now, Higgs," Graces dismissed, her voice back to one that mirrored McGonagall's. "Be sure to rewrite that paragraph before you turn it in to Flitwick; he's a stickler for concept theory."

Graces watched him go, a curled finger hiding the amusement on her lips. Neville stood in the shadows, not wanting to break this moment. He wanted to forever memorize the tender look on Graces' face as she watched Higgs go down the hall. In the quiet stillness of that moment, Neville knew who Graces was. Everything she was in front of people was a facade, but the girl he had seen when no others were around was the true Graces Malfoy. And Graces Malfoy was amazing. She was sweet, funny, selfless, strong, smart, witty and incredibly tender hearted. Neville knew that she was just as flawed, and that she was more harsh than she was kind. Every snide remark, every hostile glare could be easily forgotten when he saw her in moments like this. He was now convinced that he would rather deal with her bad moments if her good ones were this wonderful.

"A bit too young for you, don't you think?"

Neville looked over, behind Graces, to see Theodore Nott standing with his arms crossed and leaning against the cool stone of the castle. Neville frowned, there was something in the way Nott was looking at her that made him wary. He saw a brief flicker of rage cross Graces' face before she schooled it away and turned to face the tall boy.

"He's not that much younger," Graces noted casually, her face cool and unfriendly. "He would be a suitable match, after all: pureblood, rich, Slytherin, neutral in the war and he is from a good, respectable family."

Nott's eyes flashed with something unknown for a moment before he moved off the stone wall and came closer to where Graces was standing. "A suitable match? I never thought you would care for a husband that could barely speak."

"Maybe I like the strong silent type."

"I would hardly say that Higgs is strong."

"Anyone who can live in a pureblood society with a flaw such as his and still manage to uphold their family name and honor is strong. And in case it has escaped your notice, he is a second year who has MASTERED non-verbal spells."

Nott snorted, "Out of necessity."

"When he is a man, no one will care that he mastered it out of necessity, people will only see him as a man they should be wary of, with such strong magic. Magic like that can make people forget. Even now I can see the fear beginning to emerge in his peers' eyes. Most students are not even aware of his problem. He hides it so well, never speaking in front of other houses, remaining silent during class and even in the halls being mindful of his company. With the proper posture and look, he will be viewed as a looming figure that quietly calculates his enemies' downfalls. The man that does not speak gives nothing away. All he needs is for someone to show him how to be that man."

Nott was now pinching the bridge in between his eyes, clearly frustrated with the conversation. "I always manage to forget that when it comes to the younger years you're like a Hungarian Horntail protecting her young. Can we please start over, please?"

"There is no such thing."

Nott took a deep breath and put his hand out as though to pull Graces towards him, but the blond girl moved sharply away her hand now stretched forward with her wand. "I just... Merlin, Graces, I miss you. I just want to talk to you. You didn't reply to a single owl I sent you over the summer and you returned the card and flowers I sent you in the hospital wing."

"I would think," Graces said slowly, her wand never wavering from the boy in front of her, "that based off of all that, you would get the hint that I want nothing to do with you."

Nott pressed forward, his chest now touching the end of her wand, "I know you care about me. If you didn't you would have told your brother and—"

"Has it ever crossed your mind that I did not tell my brother because you are of no great consequence to me? I wouldn't waste my or his efforts on seeking vengeance on you," Graces interrupted coldly, placing her wand in her robes and turning to leave.

"Graces, please! I love you."

Graces paused for a moment before turning around and moving so that she was toe to toe with Nott. Neville would have thought she was going to kiss him, if her face didn't look so dark. "You don't know what that word means," she whispered venomously, causing the boy in front of her to take a step back while Neville leaned in closer to hear more. "Because if you did then you would have never told me that then went and fucked some Ravenclaw girl when we were still together!" Nott stumbled back from the blow to his chest that Graces had given him. "How dare you betray me like that and then stand before me and proclaim that you love me."

"I do love you!" Nott pleaded, trying desperately to convince the girl before him that he was being sincere.

Graces watched Nott plead for a moment, her face never losing its obvious disgust. "Maybe you do love me, and if that is the case, your love isn't worth anything. It certainly isn't good enough for me."

"Graces," it was obvious that Nott was trying to sound patient and understanding but was close to losing his composure. "I realize that was deserved, that I hurt you and—"

"The only thing you hurt, Theodore, was my pride. That is the only thing you can claim to have affected me on. I didn't weep over the loss of you, I only seethed in fury that you had betrayed me. I would never have gone to bed with another man if I was already spoken for."

"That's easy for you to say isn't it? You won't go to bed with anyone." Nott scoffed, a sneer outlining his lips. "What did you expect Graces? I tell you I love you, and you don't say it back. Yet, you expect me to remain faithful, when all you allow me to do is snog you? And even then you don't seem too into it. Do you have any idea how many girls have thrown themselves at me? How many opportunities I have had to go to bed with other girls? Does all the times I remained faithful to you mean nothing?"

"You are absolutely right Theo, how could I have been so selfish," Graces said mockingly, "Thank you sooo much, Theo, for not screwing all those other girls. Of course I forgive that you fucked some little tart and didn't even have the decency to shower her off of you before seeing me. I was such a horrid girlfriend for not letting you bed me. I mean, you were always trying just so hard to get me to, and I just let all your efforts go to waste. It's no wonder you did what you did. After all, it was my fault for not sleeping with you, for not loving you."

Nott flushed, "That's not what I was saying."

"Oh, but it's what you think isn't it, Theo?" The silence seemed to be reply enough for Graces. "Your love and devotion is ignoble."

"That's at least better than yours, which is non-existent," Nott replied, in a pathetic attempt to regain some dignity.

"I'll have you know, Nott," Graces said, her voice laced with venom "that I love more passionately and with more devotion than you could ever hope to imagine, and the people I choose to love are those that can match mine. I would lay my life down for any of the people in my life that I love. Granted, I only love three people in this world, but at least the love I offer is real. You claim to want something with me and then go off and screw some girl and try to tell me it was nothing. If you loved me then you wouldn't sleep with some random girl, knowing how intimate I found that act to be. It's no wonder I never felt comfortable enough to do that with you. Now that we are through, I see that you are the last man I could ever bring myself to sleep with."

Graces turned to leave, obviously believing that the Slytherin wouldn't have a retort to any of what she said.

"I highly doubt I am the last," Nott protested, "I doubt you would be willing to bed someone like... someone like Neville Longbottom before me."

Neville flushed at the comment, but saw Graces smirk wickedly to herself before turning to face her ex. "I would gladly let Neville Longbottom take me to bed over you. I bet he kisses in ways that would set my blood on fire, and make me ache with need that you never could make me feel. I bet that, just like with plants, he knows exactly how and where to touch to make me lose myself in sensation. He may not be the most powerful boy at this school and he may not be the smartest, but at least he has integrity. Neville Longbottom is a far greater man now than you will ever be."

Nott was visibly seething at Graces passionate speech, his jaw was tight as he clenched his teeth and Neville readied his wand, expecting him to go forward and strike Graces. "I would be very careful of what you say, Malfoy," he bit out, "I understand you are mad and are saying such things to hurt me, but if anyone heard you talking about a blood traitor like that..." Nott let his sentence trail off, leaving Graces to imagine exactly what could happen, before stomping past her down the hall.

Neville stood there in awe of all that he had heard. He wondered if Graces was hurt by Nott's adultery. He would have certainly been crushed if a girl he had been with for two years had slept with another guy. He had a hard time believing that Graces' pride was the only thing hurt. It was hard to tell with Graces, she hid her emotions so well, he hoped that she wasn't wounded by Nott's infidelity. Neville hated the thought of Graces sitting alone crying to herself over a waste of a man like Nott.

Nott is a fool, the best plants often need more time and tending before they give any signs of budding. If she didn't want to have sex, he should have waited and tended to her needs, enjoying the time he spent with her, he should have tried to know her better. If I were him I wouldn't have cared so much about that, I know for a fact it would have been worth the wait.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ssss

Graces watched as Nott went down the hall back to the Slytherin dorms. She would have expected her heart to be beating vigorously from the confrontation, but it wasn't. If anything she felt euphoric. She didn't have any feelings for Nott. That realization came long ago when she found out he cheated on her. He had walked over to her in the common room after studying with his Ancient Runes partner and she could smell the girl's perfume mingled with the musky scent of his sweat. Of course, that wasn't the only sign. What made the situation all too obvious was when he had bent down to kiss her. There was no hiding the unfamiliar taste on his lips, the taste of another woman. It didn't take a genius to realize what had happened. She should have stood and raged in front of the whole common room at his fornication, but in reality she didn't even care that he had been with another. She only wanted to keep the student population from knowing her embarrassment.

Humiliated, but still wanting to keep up appearances, she had calmly asked Nott to accompany her on a late night stroll. It wasn't until they were alone, outside the castle, that she coolly stated, "I think it rather pointless for us to be together, now that you have found company in another girl's bed." And that had been it. Nott, of course, said the usual things: that it was a mistake, it would never happen again, that he loved her, asked her to give him another chance etc., but she had been able to shrug off each claim and plea. She hadn't cared. It was really an awakening to how little she felt for him.

She smiled to herself, she couldn't help but be thankful that she wasn't the type of girl to give any sort of feeling to a boy like Nott. Even now, after their harsh exchange, she didn't hate him. Hate was too strong of a feeling to devote to someone so unworthy of attention. She had, admittedly, enjoyed cutting him down with her words, but she was a Malfoy. They always enjoyed such pastimes with those who had wronged them.

She began walking down the other hall. She should have started her prefect rounds half an hour ago, but the confrontation had kept her from her duties. Not that she minded, being late for rounds was well worth the look on Nott's face when she told him she would let Longbottom bed her. Suddenly she felt a hand on her arm and she was being pulled sideways into a dark room. Graces felt her heart jump into her throat as the rest of her body began to be flooded with a mixture of adrenaline and panic.

Don't allow your fear to overpower you, always think, Graces. What will be your attacker's next move, think. Graces could hear her father's voice sounding inside her headand thanked the heavens that he had prepared her for things like this. She pulled a dagger from her robes, just as her assailant reached out to grab what he thought was her wand from her hands. A sharp hiss of pain and the feeling of warm blood dripping on her hand let her know that her plan had worked. Graces took advantage of her attacker's initial shock. In three swift, precise movements she pulled herself away from her attacker, pinned him to the wall and had her dagger right against his Adam's apple, ready to slice him open. Graces was prepared for a multitude of possible assailants under her dagger, anyone from a wizard her father had scathed in the past to a boy who thought he could have his way with her. What she wasn't prepared to see was Neville Longbottom under her blade. Shocked, she dropped her weapon and took a step back.

"Are you mad?!" Neville exclaimed, cradling his injured hand to his chest. "Who on earth goes around carrying daggers like that?!"

"Am I mad? Who goes dragging witches into dark closets? AND a dark witch to boot? I swear you Gryffindors have a death wish," Graces fumed, now understanding why people grabbed their own hair in frustration.

"I wouldn't have had to drag you if you would just be a normal person and talk to me."

Graces took a few deep breaths and reminded herself that she was a Malfoy, and Malfoys did not stick their tongue out at boys that they had just cut with a dagger. "Longbottom, there is nothing for us to talk about besides potions and plants."

Neville's eyes narrowed at the stubborn blond before him. He was about to retort, to tell Graces that they most certainly had other things to discuss, when he felt an odd warming sensation spreading through his hand slowly to his wrist. When he looked down he saw that the veins in his hand, usually not visible, were now turning black. He watched as the color slowly creeped up his arm, like black roots taking hold in his skin. "You poisoned that dagger, didn't you?" he muttered hollowly, not allowing himself to truly take in what was happening.

Neville waited for Graces reply and closed his eyes as only silence filled the room. When he did look up, Graces was looking at his hand with such panic that Neville realized that whatever poison she had used must have been incredibly bad.

I should have figured, she's a Malfoy. She probably put the most dangerous poison she could think of on that dagger.

Neville began trembling violently as he considered what kind of poison the blonde must have used on him. The slight burning sensation and the fact it was using his veins let him know that whatever poison she used was going straight to his heart to kill him. He was honestly more surprised that she had chosen a slow poison.

"What poison is on that dagger?" Neville said vacantly, looking away from the girl before him, and back to his hand.

"Ardenis Radis," Graces admitted softly, looking over to the door. Neville couldn't tell if she was speaking to him or to herself. "It burns through the victims veins, causing them to bleed out some, before shooting up through the vessels into the heart. There it catches the organ on fire. Ordinarily, the victim dies within minutes... minutes of sheer agony. That's all most of its victims have to withstand, but I placed a preserving potion in it. It allows the potion to move through the veins slowly and let the heat grow slowly as well. With my modifications the death would take three hours instead of three minutes, the heart burning slowly before being set aflame."

"That's... that's... to even brew that potion is a life sentence in Azkaban, to use it is a dementor's—" Neville let the statement drop, Graces' eyes were closed and her breathing was erratic. Neville knew he should be panicking, but he wasn't. He honestly didn't feel anything, other than a mild warming sensation gently spreading in his arm. "You should go before someone sees, before you're caught."

Graces eyes flew open and her mouth dropped slightly, "I wouldn't leave you like this."

"There's nothing you can do. I doubt Pomfrey has the antidote. I doubt anyone does. It takes three months to make, and since no one has made that potion since the dark ages there is no point in both of us losing our lives. Go."

"You stupid Gryffindor. Do you think I would make that poison without making the antidote? I have the antidote."

"Then why do you look so frightened?"

Graces didn't answer, instead she took hold of Neville's good hand and began dragging him through the castle out the main doors. It was so dark that the grass spreading before them looked black and the small amount of light that was emitted was from the night's stars and the glow from the gamekeeper's hut in the distance. Neville should have been focused more on what was happening, but in actuality his thoughts were with Graces and the fact that she was holding his hand.

"Longbottom, do you trust me?"

Neville nodded, then realized that Graces couldn't see his answer as she was walking in front of him. "With my life."

Graces looked back at him for a moment and muttered something about stupidity and Gryffindors as she continued towards the hut. "Wait here," she ordered, hiding Neville behind a barrel by the door.  
A few moments after Graces knocked on the door, Hagrid appeared with Fang on his heels.

"Malfoy, bit late to be wantin the key isn' it?" Hagrid's rugged voice echoed through the doorway. Neville wanted to peek his head out a little more to see what Hagrid's face looked like. He didn't know if Hagrid liked Graces, he imagined he would have reason not to after the stunt her father and brother pulled third year with trying to get Buckbeak put down and him sacked. Then again, Hagrid was the most understanding and gentle soul Neville had ever met, he doubted that he would hold a grudge against anyone.

"I know." There was silence for a few moments, Neville wondered what Graces needed with a key and how often had she been coming here asking Hagrid for one. It seemed like this was a normal routine for the two.

"Well, they do seem to like you. Always perky after a night with you, suppose they like the attention. Don' get much of that from other students; mostly 'cause other students can't see 'em and the ones that can, well, people don't much like being around me."

"I'll clean the stalls," Graces offered quietly, Neville could hear from her voice that she was uncomfortable talking to the gamekeeper.

"You always do, but still it's late. No offense, Malfoy, but you look like you could use some decent sleep."

"I'm fine!" Graces exclaimed, desperation mingling in with her usually calm voice. "Please, I swear I am fine. Please."

"Ya never did tell me why you liked being around them so much," Hagrid said gently, obviously offering Graces a sort of quid pro quo agreement.

Neville chanced a sight at Graces and saw that she clearly did not like this agreement. Reveal something about herself and be allowed the key.

"It's... well... it's... its silly..."

"I'm sure I've heard and thought sillier things. Besides I won't be telling anyone. I've kept this secret enough haven't I? Merlin knows your father would throw a fit if he knew how often you spent time in a barn cleaning pens and talking with half-breeds."

"I never said that you were," Graces mumbled quietly, looking down.

"But ya think it, don't you?"

Graces swallowed hard and closed her eyes still examining the floor, before she pulled herself up tall and met Hagrids stare.

"People are so frightened of thestrals because they hate that they are a reminder that we all will one day meet the same fate. You and I may share nothing else in common, but we will both die. They're frightened of them, because most people can't face that simple fact of life that we are all limited to our time here on earth. They label them dark because they represent death, which makes no sense because death is just as certain for light wizards and witches as for dark. No one cares what is pulling the carts to the castle until they can see them and then instead of being in awe of such a creature they are frightened and don't stop thinking of why they can see them. They don't see how beautiful they are, how graceful. They're lovely, really. They're always playing on the grounds and they don't care if people can see them or not. They're not bruised that people cringe away from them. They go about their lives free from judgment because they choose to be."

There was a pregnant silence for a moment before Hagrid asked awkwardly, "Do you feel judged?"

"I'm a Slytherin," Graces replied with cold dignity, "My house is always judged. Evil, right? That's what the school believes. I believe you have even made mention of it."

"Well you know," Hagrid started embarrassed, "I didn' mean all of you lot. Just most dark wizards do come from that house."

"More Order of Merlins have been given to Hufflepuff and no dark wizard has come from that house and yet Gryffindor is still seen as the good and noble house despite people like Pettigrew coming from there."

"Well..." It was clear that Hagrid was at a loss as to what to say and very uncomfortable with the cold glare he was receiving from Graces. "Can't really argue with that, can I? Tell you what, Malfoy, I'll let you have the key, but promise me you will get some rest. I heard about your accident in Herbology and honestly don't think it is helping you much to be up like this."

"Thank you, Professor Hagrid," Neville let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding at the loss of venom in Graces' voice. "I will. I promise though, I'm fine. Good as new."

The light from the inside of the hut disappeared as Hagrid shut the door. Graces waited a moment, listening to make sure Hagrid was away from the door and back in bed, before she turned towards Neville.

"We have to go quickly; we don't have much time before you start to feel pain." Neville gulped audibly and prayed that Graces didn't notice, but based on the small glance she tossed over to him, she had. "I... I should have told you earlier, but, well, the antidote is very painful. Almost as painful as the poison."

Neville had not heard yet about what the antidote could do, but he knew that the poison running through his veins now was so painful that most victims committed suicide or had someone else kill them before the poison could run its course. Its victims could not even take that amount of pain for a few minutes. Neville just stared at the blonde before him. He had convinced himself that she was not evil, not a Death Eater yet, still able to reach salvation, but looking at his arm now his black veins becoming dangerously closer to his chest he wondered if he had been wrong.

"I will fix this." They were in the barn now and Neville was seated on a wooden chair. He had not even realized that they had entered. He could see the thestrals all around him and shuddered. Graces' hand was on his cheek, warm and soft against his clammy skin. She was on her knees in front of him, her eyes pleading for him to listen to her. "I will fix this. Do you still trust me?"

"How could you brew that potion? And actually make it worse for its victims? Why would you do such a thing, want to put someone in that much pain?"

The blonde leaned away from him and snapped back her hand as though it had been burned from Neville's skin. Neville was about to continue in his questioning until searing pain engulfed his arm and his heart felt as if someone was holding a hot coal to it. He screamed, falling off the bench and onto the dirty hay covered floor. It hurt, more than anything he had ever felt before. It hurt just as bad as the Cruciatus curse and, Neville realized with stunned horror, that this still wasn't the full extent. Graces made it so it would build in the hours to come. He wanted desperately to pass out, he could feel darkness unfolding around his eyes, but anytime he reached out to go into the darkness a blaze of light would erupt and he would be more aware of the pain he was in.

The pain was so extensive he didn't realize that he had somehow ended up in a trough of cold water stripped to his boxers and undershirt, and that Graces was on top of him fighting to keep him in the trough as she poured the antidote into the water and made long cuts on his arms and legs, causing black liquid to slowly seep out of him. As soon as his open wounds had mingled with the potioned water it felt like a war raging under his skin. It hurt, if possible, more violently than before. Neville felt as though he were fighting flames with his fist. There was nothing he could do, he was helpless. He no longer cared about the antidote, he just wanted everything to end. Nothing could possibly feel worse than this. The coal that had originally felt like it had been pressed to his heart to burn him now felt as though it had been pushed through and was inside his heart and something was violently trying to rip it out of him.

"Stop fighting me!" Graces desperately pleaded, as she tried to keep Neville inside the trough so the poison would leave his body. All of her energy and magic was being pushed into her arms and legs to give her enough strength to hold Neville down, but she knew magical exhaustion was going to creep up on her eventually. If it came to that, she would not be able to hold Neville down any longer and the poison would be left inside him. In a desperate move, she lifted her hands off the boy beneath her and scrambled to get her wand out. Neville, far from reality, pushed Graces violently off him, sending her hard onto the wooden floor as he tried to escape. Graces fumbled through her robes a few seconds more and finally pulled out her wand. She quickly cast incarcerous on Neville and breathed a sigh of relief when the sandy haired boy was forced to stay in the trough.

Graces lifted herself off the floor and hissed as she felt how sore her muscles were from wrestling Neville down. Neville was now shaking violently in the black water, his face paler than a ghost's, and he was muttering words under his breath that the Slytherin couldn't bring herself to listen to. Hesitantly, she reached out and gently pat his forehead. "Longbottom, listen to me. Please try to focus on me." Neville just gritted his teeth against the pain. Graces wondered if he was even able to hear her.

Graces finished putting in the rest of the potions and Neville instantly felt a bit of relief in his chest. The pain wasn't all gone, but the burning in his heart subsided greatly and that was the worst of it. He breathed heavily and opened his eyes, looking at Graces. He was still shaking from the pain that was still lingering, but he was no longer being driven mad.

"Distract. Me," he bit out through gritted teeth, looking up at Graces through lidded eyes.

"Uh, how?"

Neville just shook violently and closed his eyes. "Tell... me... something... about... you."

Graces bit her lip and debated telling him something about herself. It was an odd request and she didn't want to tell him anything about herself that would be distracting. "Wouldn't you rather just... think of Hannah? Like your date with her? How pretty she looked in her blouse? How you felt when you, well, ended the date?"

Neville just shook his head and then the second potion seemed to be finally working because his veins were finally returning to a normal color and the water in the trough began to steam as heat left Neville and went into the cool water. Neville hissed as the hot water stung his skin. He moved against the ropes as though to get up, but Graces pushed him back down. "I know a lot of the pain is gone, but the poison is still in you. You must stay in here all night, if you don't some poison will remain in you and the antidote won't work without me starting a new one and unfortunately I only have one brew."

Neville nodded and forced himself to relax in the trough just his head out of the water. His skin burned, his muscles ached and his heart felt like it had been badly burned and was throbbing in pain. On top of that, he was beginning to feel sick to his stomach from having such a toxin in him. Every once in awhile he still felt shooting pain in his chest causing him to wince noticeably. "Tell me something now," he commanded after another shot of pain coursed through his heart.

"Wouldn't you rather—"

"No! I want to know something about you, something no one really knows, and considering what I am going though at the moment, I think it is the least you could do."

Graces hesitated, "I—" she paused again and looked at Neville, "You can't tell anyone, Longbottom, okay?" Neville just rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement as another shot of pain coursed through him, causing him to grunt. "I, well, Ilikemugglemusic."

Neville stared at Graces in shock. "No way."

Graces blushed, a deep shade of red, and turned away as though the corner of the room had just become very interesting.

"But... but you're a Malfoy. You hate muggles. You think they should all be dead."

Graces continued to look anywhere but at Neville. "I... I just like it."

"I think I am in shock," Neville whispered, still looking at Graces. "I can't feel anything anymore. You just put me in shock. A Malfoy who likes muggle music, Merlin's beard. How did you ever even get into muggle music?"

Graces continued to blush and look away. "I, well, I passed by Thomas one day in the courtyard and he and Granger were listening to the radio, but it was the wizard station that played muggle music for mudbloods to listen to." Neville ignored Graces' racial slur and continued to listen. "And, well, I really liked the song and I couldn't get it out of my head so I started listening to the station to hear the song again and in doing that I heard so many other and, well, I like it. And Malfoy's don't really deprive themselves of things they want, so I just continued to listen to it."

"What was the song?"

Graces looked at Neville her eyes and face bespeaking her hesitance. "The Sound of Silence."

"Is that your favorite?"

"Umm," Neville watched as Graces thought about her answer. "No, I suppose not. I don't really have a favorite."

Neville couldn't help but smile. "Too many to choose from, huh?" Graces nodded awkwardly, clearly wanting the discussion to end. "I, umm, well I like muggle music too."

"I'm not surprised," Graces said, rolling her eyes, but Neville didn't hear any true coldness in her words and he saw a hint of a smile playing on the corner of her lips. A smile that she was clearly trying to shake off.

"Maybe when you tutor me, we can listen to music?"

Neville watched as Graces narrowed her eyes on him. "Am I still going to tutor you?"

"It's not really an option, now is it? You owe me a life debt."

"You're not going to turn me in?"

"Why would I tell you to leave me to die when I thought you had no antidote and let you drag me to a barn to save me instead of taking me to Pomfrey if I was planning on turning you in? I clearly am allowing you to play doctor to protect you."

Silver eyes looked over the water into brown ones. Neville felt exposed like the eyes looking at his were searching through his thoughts. He squirmed in the hot water and tried to focus on breathing regularly so that she wouldn't notice that he was uncomfortable with her looking at him. Then he realized how underdressed he was in front of her and was even more uncomfortable with her looking at him. He was just thankful that the water was so dark from potion and blood that she couldn't possibly see anything.

"I've seen everything anyways, no need to get bashful, Longbottom," Graces teased, smiling wickedly.

Neville blushed, but still squirmed a bit. "Do you know legilimency or something?"

Graces gave a smirk that resembled her brother's. "I do actually, I'm very skilled at it too." All the blood that was left in Neville seemed to go cold in his veins. "Not to worry, Longbottom, I have not invaded your privacy. Your mind is untouched. I just could tell what you were thinking based off you're squirming and putting your hands in front of you."

Neville let out a relieved sigh at that.

"Is there a reason you don't want me rummaging through your thoughts?"

"Would you want me rummaging through yours?"

"Answering a question with a question, how Slytherin of you, Mr. Longbottom," Graces complimented, smiling.

The sandy haired boy just smiled, unsure of what to say then, he could feel his face flushing with heat that was definitely not from the poison. Was Graces flirting with him? It seemed that way.

Graces seemed to have caught onto this as well because after a moment she shook her head, cleared her throat awkwardly and began to rummage through her bag, her face expressionless once again. She removed the spell that was holding Neville down and then held out a vile to him. "Here, drink this. It's blood replenishing potion. The antidote is great in that it saves you from a horrible death, awful in that it slowly drains away your blood with the potion."

Neville took the potion in hand and drained its contents, cringing at the oily texture and coppery taste. Graces took away the bottle and handed him a large piece of chocolate without making eye contact or saying a word. Neville murmured thanks and nibbled at the chocolate. He felt as though he were out of the woods. The pain was still there but it was nothing compared to earlier. The new blood flowing through his veins felt less tainted in his skin. He opened his mouth to tell Graces, so she would know all was going to be well, when his heart gave a leap in his chest before it started to burn like acid on skin.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss s

Graces cursed aloud when she saw Neville doubled over in pain again. She had thought they were out of the woods, she had thought that everything would be okay, and now watching Neville clutching his chest she realized that they were far from the end. She swung her leg over the trough and lifted herself so she was straddling the Gryffindor and holding his arms so his chest was open.

"Neville, I need you to listen to me." Neville looked up at her, his eyes squinting in pain, his jaw locked and teeth barred to prevent himself from screaming aloud, and Graces was relieved to see that his eyes still held the Gryffindor fire that she knew would keep him going. "I need to stab your heart with this muggle device. It's a needle that will put the potion directly in your heart and then I can use it to directly take the poison out."

"Oi! You want to stab me. STAB me in the heart?!"

"It's perfectly safe, muggles do it all the time, and—"

"That's barb—*grunt*—baric! How did you even—" Graces watched as Neville's pain increased. He was trying to fight, trying hard to be able to maintain a conversation with her and not sink into the pain, but she knew this resolve wouldn't last and that the poison had seeped into his heart. The little bit that survived the potion in the water would kill him.

"Listen to me, Longbottom, if you do not let me do this you will die. I know what I am doing. It all makes sense. Most people die from this poison because there is no way to get it out of the heart. The potion usually works externally; if I place it in your heart and use the syringe to suck the poison out you will be fine. This is your only option if you want to live."

Neville stared up at her the hesitation in his eyes almost tangible. Graces could tell that he didn't really understand what a syringe was, didn't understand how the potion worked or anything really, for that matter. He understood that she wanted to stab a vital organ and that was it. She knew what she would do if he still refused. She would body bind him and he would still probably struggle and there was a chance she really would injure him if that was the case, but it was still better than him dying.

He is not going to die. I will not let Neville Longbottom die by my hand.

"Okay."

Graces could feel her heart lifting at Neville's declaration. She quickly grabbed the needle and syringe out of her bag and dipped it into the water, gathering up some potion. She was about to plunge it down when Neville's hand was suddenly on her wrist.

"That is huge!"

Graces looked over at the long needle, realizing, by the blood that was now drained from Neville's face, that she just lost him. She cursed herself for not being wise enough to tell him to close his eyes.

"This? This little needle?" Graces smiled sickly, praying that she could coax Neville back to his earlier resolve.

"Come off it, Malfoy, you know that is not a little needle."

Oh, so I'm Malfoy again.

"You can't seriously tell me you're scared? Not you, a big fearless Gryffindor. This is just a thin little needle. It will be over in a moment. It is nothing compared to the pain from earlier, Longbottom, trust me."

"I barely qualify to be a Gryffindor!" Neville gasped, still holding Graces wrist firmly away from him. "I'm always frightened. I'm frightened just to speak in class. I have no idea what the sorting hat was doing putting me in Gryffindor!"

Graces stared at the boy writhing beneath her. She could not believe that Neville Longbottom didn't believe he belonged in Gryffindor. "My aunt told me about when she fought you at the ministry. How a Death Eater broke your nose, how she taunted you about your mum and dad, how you couldn't even say a spell properly, your wand was broke, and how you still tried desperately to fight her to save your friends. She laughed the whole time telling us. She thought it was wildly funny."

"Glad to know I brought humor to your dinner conversation," Neville said tightly through gritted teeth.

"She said it was the most pathetic attempt she ever saw at someone trying to do magic." Neville was staring daggers up at Graces and she knew he was getting angrier with each sentence. "Do you know what I thought?"

"I know what you thought," Neville spat defensively.

"I don't think you do," Graces said quietly, "Everyone was laughing about it. All around me people seemed to think you a big joke, but I just couldn't stop thinking how... how brave you must be. And then I witnessed how brave you were every time you were jumped in the bathrooms. I... I've never met anyone as brave as you, Longbottom. Harry Potter himself, who everyone deems the epitome of Gryffindor bravery, doesn't hold a candle to you. He might have the biggest battle ahead of him, but you, you fight your battle every single day. Every time someone trips you in the hallway or calls you cruel names, or even just facing Snape. I remember in third year he was your boggart. You faced your biggest fear every single day and no one even knew. Potter goes off into battle surrounded by friends but you go in alone."

Neville blinked a few times, and it wasn't just what Graces said that had made him calm down, it was the look in her eyes when she told him. Like she was still in awe over what he had done.

"Aunt Bella made fun of you for trying to mutter spells with a broken nose and I just couldn't stop thinking how courageous that was. You stood up to her. You put yourself between her wand and your friends when you knew there was nothing you could do. Knowing how insane she is, knowing that she wouldn't kill you quickly."

Neville let go of Graces wrist and closed his eyes, preparing himself for what was to come. The blonde stared at his chest for a moment and then, in a spur of a moment decision, she leaned in and kissed him. There was a mumbled grunt of surprise at first and then she felt arms fold around her as though they had been craving to hold her tight and Neville sat up, deepening the kiss and pulling her into him. Graces slowly pulled away from him and in one swift movement, while he was still slightly intoxicated from the kiss, she plunged the needle into his heart. Neville cursed aloud, but it was done and Graces pushed the antidote in and then pulled the syringe taking the toxins out of his heart.

"I'm sorry, but I had to catch you off guard." Neville was now laying back down, his eyes heavily lidded, unaware of the gentle hand caressing his forehead. "The worst of the poison is gone, you should rest now. Your magic will fight the rest, it will work alongside the antidote, and I'll be here. Just sleep through it, everything will be better by morning."

Graces watched as Neville slowly slipped into unconsciousness, more fearful than ever of what she had done. She wanted to lie and tell herself that she kissed Neville only to distract him, but even if she could lie to herself successfully about that, she couldn't deny how it made her feel to kiss him. After a few minutes, she got out of the water and, with a steadying breath, took out her wand to begin the final step of Neville's recovery.


	9. Chapter 9

Neville woke slowly, stretching his limbs before he opened his eyes. He could feel the water around him moving heavily, thick with the dark mixture of his blood and the antidote. Gradually he let the fog in his head lift so that he could remember all that had happened yesterday. He knew he should be more focused on the fact that Graces almost killed him and brewed a dangerous and illegal potion, but he couldn't seem to think of anything other than the kiss they shared. Did Graces really only kiss him to distract him? It certainly didn't feel that way. At the beginning the kiss was so abrupt and forceful that Neville didn't know what to think of it. In all honesty it could have been mechanical on Graces' part. He was in such a state of shock he wouldn't know, but then, when he sat up and deepened the kiss, he felt her leaning into it.

Neville was becoming more and more aware of Graces' amazing acting skills, but at the same time he could also see them slipping. She could play cold, indifferent, cruel, ruthless, but what she couldn't fake was affection. Affection and warmth were what slipped through the cracks of her mask to reveal who she truly was. Neville did not doubt that she could mechanically kiss a man. It appeared, based off what Nott had said, she had done it often. But was the way she kissed him just an act, just two lips pressed together with no real feeling? The sandy haired boy didn't believe it was. He vividly remembered how, the moment he deepened the kiss and wrapped his arms around her, she had reacted. She had immediately parted her lips, and gently moved her hands so her delicate fingers were entangled in his hair, and she had moved closer into him, even with how tightly he was already holding her. It was as though she still, despite the fact she was so close he could feel her heart hammering against his chest, didn't feel she was close enough to him, like it wasn't enough to assure her he was there. She held to him like she never wanted to let him go and he all too happily would have obliged. Then she suddenly pulled away and stabbed him in the heart like the crazy witch she was.

Neville cautiously put his hand to where the small puncture mark was, he was definitely sore and there would be bruising, but as she had said, he would live. It was amazing how the small puncture mark seemed to be the only visible sign of the night before left on his body. The lacerations that Graces had made all along his arms and legs were perfectly healed, not even the faintest hint of a scar. He idly noted that he felt feverish, but it wasn't a main concern to him over the other things he was feeling. His magic felt... different... like there seemed to be this added foreign presence to it. He could feel the familiarity of his own magic dancing beneath the surface of his skin, almost as though it were dancing with a partner, a very lively partner that seemed to enjoy riling his magic up. He was almost overwhelmed with anxiety to have his own magic acting so animatedly, like a rushing river instead of it's usual gentle, quiet stream.

He decided that he would ask Graces about this, see if it was a side effect of the potion or something. He lifted himself out of the trough, rather clumsily, spilling its contents out onto the floor. The mess made the area around the trough look as though he had been savagely murdered and not saved. He could only imagine what the reaction would be if someone walked in and saw this. Deciding that he would rather that not happen and that he definitely didn't want to spend any longer soaked in his own blood, he searched for his wand, finding it on the floor beside him. He muttered a few spells to clean and dry himself, before cleaning up the mess.

After he finished, a small movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention: Graces. The blonde was lying peacefully in a makeshift bed of hay that was tucked into the corner of the bar, almost hidden away from the rest of the room. As Neville walked over, he was surprised to see that she was using his Gryffindor cloak as a blanket as well as his button up shirt as a nightgown. Not that he minded. In truth the sight warmed something deep in his chest, and the image of Graces sleeping like this in his bed, wearing his clothes from the night before, was almost impossible for him to shake from his mind. Deciding that now was not the time to be fantasizing about such things, Neville turned to look for his trousers and undershirt. He knew Graces had seen everything already, but he still didn't fancy the idea of her waking up to find him in only his boxers. He found his undershirt hanging on a stall door next to Graces' damp clothes, but his trousers were still no where to be found. He was just about to accio his trousers over to him when Graces shifted in her sleep, revealing them under her head. Neville sighed, knowing that he was in no way, shape or form smooth enough to remove the article of clothing without waking the blonde. Feeling incredibly awkward, he went over to where Graces was sleeping soundly and gently nudged her shoulder.

"Five more minutes, Pans," she pleaded sleepily, turning her face away.

"Umm, it's not Parkinson," Neville mumbled, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Graces drowsily rolled over and slowly, as realization began to dawn in her eyes, she sat up. The first thing Neville noticed was how Graces swam in his shirt, it was far too big on her small frame. Even so, she had neglected to button the upper half, leaving her elegant collarbone and humble cleavage exposed. The only thing keeping Neville from seeing through the white collared shirt was her long hair flowing out over her breasts. Despite the situation, Neville could feel his heart immediately begin to race and his mouth go dry as he noticed the fine shape and contours of her breasts gently lifting the shirt up enough to peer down from where he stood. Graces, upon noticing his stares, pulled his cloak up to cover herself more discreetly. Neville blushed, and quickly looked away although it was far too late. "Sorry, I well, umm—"

"It's fine," Graces interjected quietly, looking down at her knees under the cloak. "Nothing you haven't seen before." This time when she made the comment there was no humor with it.

"So, umm, you're wearing my clothes," Neville pointed out awkwardly, wondering why Graces was not in her own clothes.

Graces blushed and started playing with a piece of her hair. "Yeah, well mine were so wet and yours were dry. I pulled them off you before putting you in the trough, so it made sense for me to just wear yours."

"You didn't want to use a drying spell?" Neville questioned, still perplexed as to why she had chosen to wear his shirt.

Graces frowned and looked up puzzledly. "I... I thought you would have noticed, my magic must be so different than your own." The sandy haired boy just stared at the girl below him. "You didn't notice the numbers and runes on the floor?" Neville looked down, as she had said, symbols were etched all along the floor. He should have noticed all of it when he came out of the trough, but the blood and the fact that they were so finely sketched, must have prevented him from seeing them.

"I never took Arithmancy or advanced Ancient Runes... if that is what this all is. Either way, I don't know what this all means."

Graces nodded and bit down on her lower lip. She hesitated before saying, "I gave you my magic." Neville's eyes widened in horror. "Temporarily, of course, you will have to give it back, but I gave it to you to help your body heal faster. The poison had gotten to your heart. While I stopped it from killing you, you still would have been very weak and sick for days possibly weeks. With my magic and yours working together though you will only be sick with a fever for a few days, but judging by how much healthier you look today, not even that."

Neville stared in disbelief at the girl before him. Graces Malfoy had given him her magic. He was feeling her magic dancing inside of him right now. Every time he turned the thought over in his head he still couldn't believe it. It made no sense. He knew how purebloods felt about their magic, nothing was more important, not even their heritage. Most pureblood witches and wizards held the belief that your life was not worth living if you were unable to do magic, so to give it to someone and trust that they would return it was a giant act of faith. An act of faith that even non-pureblood members of their society may not have been able to do. And Graces had done it, not to save his life which was already saved, but to save him from the discomfort of being bedridden.

"You... you will give it back? Won't you?" Graces asked, in an uncharacteristically small frightened voice, looking up at him.

"Yes, of course," Neville reassured, dropping down to his knees to be eye level with her. The relief in Graces face was almost immediate. "Just tell me how."

"Put your hands above mine so that our palms are facing. As long as you will it to come back to me, it will go. It belongs to me, and I belong to it; we belong to one another, it will come back willingly." Neville did as he was told. He placed his palms above her outstretched, up-facing ones and concentrated only on giving her back her magic. He felt a strange pulling sensation in his hands, as if something were being dragged out from his fingertips and the center of his palm and his whole body tingled, but there was no visible sign of anything being passed on from him to Graces. It was odd feeling magic leave his palms in such a manner. He could feel Graces' magic swirling inside him as though deciding to be extra flamboyant with its exit. He then looked up and noticed how tired Graces looked. She seemed as though she had not slept in months, much like Remus Lupin would look, but as her magic flowed back into her she began to appear healthier. Neville knew it wasn't that she needed her magic to look healthy; squibs didn't have magic and still looked well. He realized that Graces' magic must have been working to keep her healthy. Meaning that she wasn't healthy to begin with, even now he could see that she needed a good night's rest. She looked exhausted.

When the last of her magic had left him, he watched as she gave a content smile, her eyes closed as though she was basking in the sensation.

"Your magic is so different from mine," Neville commented, a small bashful smile playing on his lips.

Graces opened her silver orbs and smiled wickedly at him. "More powerful?"

Neville chuckled, "Yes it is, but it's more than that its, I don't know, playful? No, something like that but different it's..."

"Wild," Graces offered, helpfully a smirk settled on her face.

"Yes! That's it: wild." The sandy haired boy stared at her waiting for her to say more.

"Dark isn't evil, Longbottom, it's wild. You can't tame it, I think that is why light wizards are so scared of it. It's wild and free, it demands and tempts, and it's wonderful in so many ways. "

"So you have declared dark?" Neville asked.

Graces smiled, "Of course. I am a Malfoy after all. I suppose you have already declared light?"

Neville smiled, "I'm a Longbottom after all."

"And the heir," Graces added.

Neville nodded, it was easy for him to forget how important that was to purebloods. In Gryffindor no one really thought much of it, but Graces obviously made note of it when thinking of him. Neville Longbottom: pureblood son of Frank and Alice Longbottom, declared family of light, heir to the Longbottom clan, and known blood traitor. He suspected that the requirements given to her for choosing a husband were that he had to be a pureblood, had to be the heir, and had to be loyal to blood lines. To Neville none of those things mattered, and yet, in her world they were everything. He thought in such a different way when thinking about people. For instance Hermione was smart, nosy, fierce, compassionate and incredibly brave. Graces would say she was a Gryffindor and a muggleborn.

"I wonder what yours feels like," Graces said airily, more to herself than the boy sitting by her.

"Well, thanks to your Ancient Rune skills you can find out."

"What? You can't be serious," Graces voiced scandalized.

"Why not?"

"I could steal your magic and leave you to be a squib for the rest of your life!"

Neville chuckled at how offended Graces was on his behalf. "You wouldn't do that. Would the runes allow us to do it again?"

"Yes, but—"

"Really, I want to."

Graces bit her lip but eventually nodded. Neville wondered if her magic was singing in her body demanding to be near his; he knew his was. He almost felt giddy at the prospect of his magic mingling with hers again. Even if he wouldn't be the one to feel it, he knew that he would feel content after. Also he wanted to see if Graces experienced anything like he had.

A few moments after his magic went into her Graces eyes widened. "That's different." Neville waited patiently wondering if she was meaning good different or bad. "Yours is so... gentle."

"Gentle?"

"Yeah, gentle. Oddly comforting." Graces was biting her lip deep in thought, she let out a small giggle. "My magic is just teasing yours."

"Teasing?" Neville exclaimed, "I should have known a Malfoy's magic would taunt mine." He couldn't help but grin warmly at Graces though.

Graces just continued to laugh. "Not maliciously, just playfully. It seems mine wants to rile yours up; your magic is a lot more powerful when it is riled up. You're a lot more powerful than people think." Graces gave Neville a devious smile, before continuing. "Maybe you just need to be riled up in the right way more often."

Neville sat enchanted by the girl in front of him. He liked that she was enjoying his magic flowing through hers as much he enjoyed hers in him. He could spend the rest of his life as a squib if it meant that he could watch her giggling and smiling like this. And the best part would be knowing that he made her that happy.

"Yeah I noticed that, looks like your magic has a bit of a crush on mine," Neville teased, smirking.

Graces smile faded, "It does not," she denied defiantly, her cold gray eyes boring into Neville. There was an uncomfortable silence for a while where all Neville could hear was Graces' and his breathing. After a moment she shook her head and closed her eyes as though trying to gain back her temper. "Here, I need to give it back to you. You're not well; you need your magic."

Neville nodded and accepted his own magic back. He was a little thrown off by the sudden turn in Graces' attitude, but didn't want to press her. Something told him that if he pressed Graces he would get pushed.

Graces made a noise as though clearing her throat to get Neville's attention. When he looked at her she was standing his cloak wrapped around her. "I need to change."

Neville blushed and awkwardly stood up grabbing his trousers from the hay. He fumbled a bit putting them on trying to hurry, now suddenly remembering he was just in boxers and then turned and faced the wall.

"Don't peek!" He heard Graces call. He nodded and was glad that he was facing away from the girl because he couldn't help from smiling and rolling his eyes. He understood that she didn't want him to see her dress, but it was so odd after he had already seen her. All of her for that matter. Not to mentioned touched and—

"Okay, I'm decent." He turned around and took his shirt buttoning it up all the way, but not tucking it in. Graces looked fully dressed as though she were going to go to classes. "You should head to the hospital wing now. You still have a fever and you need the rest."

"I could say the same for you," Neville said, looking down at her.

"I'm fine. I'm used to not getting a lot of sleep."

"Still, I felt your magic, it's exhausted. Magical exhaustion can be dangerous."

"I'm fine," Graces said coldly, going back to her normal demeanor towards him.

Neville could feel his frustration beginning to boil. "Listen, if you don't go to the hospital wing and at least have Madam Pomfrey check you out, then I will not go."

"Don't be stupid! You almost died last night. You have to go."

"And you worked yourself to the bone and didn't have your magic to help you heal. I'm not budging on this."

Graces glared up at him, and Neville noted how much she could look like her father. He admittedly was uncomfortable with the glare, but continued to stand his ground and trying not flinch.

"Fine," Graces agreed curtly, turning away from him. "I will come, but after breakfast. I don't want us showing up at the same time. It would look suspicious. Go to the hospital wing now, tell Madam Pomfrey you just have a fever, and get some rest."

"How do I know you will come?" Neville asked skeptically.

"I'll come."

"I'm just supposed to take your word on this?"

"Yes, you are!" Graces spat, turning around. "Have I given you any reason to doubt my word?" Neville growled but shook his head. "Great, then I will see you after breakfast."

"Why can't you just go now?" Neville asked again, the more he looked at Graces the more he realized how unwell she was. She must have been putting glamours on her eyes to hide the bags and redness that gave away her lack of sleep, there was no way that she looked this tired from only missing one night's rest.

"BECAUSE MY BROTHER WILL WORRY!" she shrieked, losing her temper. Graces put her face in her hands for a moment, clearly disgusted with herself for losing her composure. When she looked up, she swallowed hard and did her best to try and regain herself. Her voice sounded frail as if she were about to cry from frustration and exhaustion. "He'll worry. I just need to go to breakfast and tell him I am going to the hospital wing. If I don't, and he finds out I am there, he will skip classes and come storming in demanding to know what is going on."

Neville nodded and let her leave the barn. He waited a few moments, vanished all the tell-tale signs that they had been there and then proceeded to the hospital wing.

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Neville sat in the hospital bed growing more and more impatient as every second ticked by. Pomfrey had checked his vitals, given him a potion, talked to him a bit about how his gran was doing, taken care of four first years who had nasty jinxes that caused boils to appear on their bums and sent them on their way, and Graces still had not shown. He was beginning to lose hope that she would show at all when the hospital wing doors opened and Graces came gliding through over to where Madam Pomfrey was sitting at her desk.

"Miss Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey greeted, a bit surprised, "You're not having headaches are you?"

Graces smiled sweetly revealing her perfect teeth, "Oh no, nothing like that, Madam Pomfrey, I was just hoping you could give me a pepper up potion for today."

I'm going to kill her! Neville thought leaning forward in his bed and staring at Graces incredulously. It was then that he realized Graces had only given her word that she would go to the hospital wing; she never said she would rest. I should have known this would happen. She is a Slytherin.

"Pepper Up potion," the mediwitch repeated slowly, her eyes fixated on Graces, "and why do you need Pepper Up potion, Miss Malfoy?"

"Oh, you know, I've just been so busy lately with prefect's duties, school work, being on the Slytherin quidditch team, choir and, of course, tutoring the younger years. I just feel a bit fatigued."

Madam Pomfrey sat back in her chair, her elbows sitting on the armrest of her seat while her hands played with her wand in front of her chest. "That would all still allow you adequate amount of time to sleep at night. Furthermore, your glamour isn't fooling me, Miss. Malfoy, I can see the bags under your eyes, and considering that you are a powerful witch you must be more than a bit fatigued for your magic to not be giving an affective glamour charm."

Graces stopped smiling and up turned her chin. "My magic is fine."

Pomfrey stood up and came to stand in front of the blond, Graces just stood there unflinching with her perfect posture palms folded in front of her dignity. A perfect image of a pure blood witch. Pomfrey eyed her for a moment before waving her wand and taking off the glamour and then casting a diagnostic spell. Graces did not move, but her eyes were seething with fury.

"My gods, child," Pomfrey whispered, looking at the diagnosis. "You can't have had a good night's sleep in months. Your magic is seriously exhausted, and this kind of exhaustion doesn't come from normal everyday use, what were you doing last night?"

Graces gave a predatory smile. "Why, Madam Pomfrey, you gave me the birth control potion. What do you think I've been doing at all hours of the night?"

Neville had never seen Madam Pomfrey look so feral, he had heard that she used to duel, but it was hard to believe that she was a dueler when she was constantly fussing over every scrape and bruise that a child came in with. Now, though, he could see the ferocity in her eyes.

"That does not explain the magical exhaustion," she countered tightly, in a way that told Graces that she did not believe her excuse.

"What can I say?" Graces shrugged, "I like it rough; I have to put all my magic in my limbs. That's hours of hard work, sometimes whole nights."

"Then why is it I have yet to see your partner in here suffering from magical exhaustion?" The mediwitch challenged, pointing out the flaws in Graces' story.

"You know young boys. Takes a lot to wear them out."

"I know who you have been with, Miss Malfoy," Pomfrey said, looking over at Neville for a brief moment and causing Graces' mask to slip.

"How could you possibly know?" Graces asked, trying to be more composed and ignoring Neville.

"Two files of Hogwarts students were updated to sexually active at the same time, it's obvious. Now, I am not going to say anything to anyone, patient confidentiality in consideration, but I know that you are lying right now."

Graces took a step forward so that she was nose to nose with the mediwitch smirking devilishly, "You don't know know; you're assuming. This other boy and I could have both just had sex with two people who were already sexually active at the same time. And even if you were right, which you are not, you know what they say about those quiet ones."

Pomfrey, obviously done playing games with Graces, turned to Neville. "Mr. Longbottom, have you entered a sexual relationship with Miss Malfoy?"

Graces mouth dropped open and she looked over at Neville and said without a word that he better keep his mouth shut.

"What?" Neville squeaked, immediately clearing his throat in embarrassment. "No, of... of course not, me and Malfoy? No, I mean look at her and look at me. And... well, umm, no. No, I have not."

Graces smacked her palm to her forehead and was muttering obscenities to herself, as the mediwitch just smiled fondly over at the Gryffindor. "You're a terrible liar, Neville." She then turned to Graces and sighed, "Go lay down in a hospital bed, Miss Malfoy, preferably one away from Mr. Longbottom. I think a full day of rest will do wonders. I will give you a potion to help your magic." Graces went over to the far side of the ward and shut the curtains around her, even though it was just Neville and Pomfrey there. Neville felt a bit put out that she didn't even send him a glance, but he dismissed it and watched as Pomfrey fixed the potion for Graces.

"Madam Pomfrey," he began timidly, which caused the mediwitch to pause her work and look over at him an eyebrow raised. "I well... I just wanted to say... that... umm... I never... well I never was... rough with her. And we only did it once. She... uh well... she seems to think it was a mistake." Neville said the last one quietly and Pomfrey could hear the hurt in his voice.

Neville was playing with a piece of imaginary lint on the bed and looking down at the white blanket as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. He felt the bed dip and saw the mediwitch sitting beside him. "I know you weren't rough with her, Neville," she comforted, "Miss. Malfoy is a complicated creature to say the least, but I don't think she regrets what you two did for the reasons you think she does."

"She said I'm not the kind of man she is supposed to end up with," Neville confided, still looking down.

"According to her parents, and what she has been raised to believe, you're not. Your gran would agree that she is not the type of girl you should end up with as well. I can tell you have feelings for her, but unfortunately circumstances will make any relationship you two tried for to be filled with pain and having to choose between the people you love. I think Miss Malfoy is right in that you two should stay away from a romantic relationship together."

"She's not a bad person. She's a really lovely person once she lets her guard down."

"I do not doubt that, Neville, I am sure she is wonderful, but I know she loves her family and I can't see her betraying them." Madam Pomfrey gently hugged the heart torn boy and then left him to think of what she said.

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Madam Pomfrey entered into the curtained area where Graces was lying down. Her arms were folded across her chest and she was staring forward refusing to acknowledge the mediwitch's presence. Pomfrey pretended not to notice the young Malfoy's foul mood. In all honesty she didn't expect anything else from her. Graces Malfoy would not be an easy patient, she would not tell her why she wasn't sleeping and there would be no thanks for making her well again. The mediwitch didn't mind, though, as long as she did get well. She did, however, want to talk to the girl.

"So, Neville Longbottom... can't say I saw that coming," Pomfrey commented airily, as though she were discussing the weather and not a student's sex life. She glanced up from the try to see Graces just staring at her with great loathing. She just continued her work preparing the medication as if she had not noticed. "Not to say Neville isn't a handsome lad, he seems to be growing into his looks, but still never thought I would live to see the day when a Malfoy was getting along with a Longbottom or any light wizarding family for that matter, let alone be sleeping with one."

This time when she turned around Graces was sitting up in bed, her silver eyes watching Pomfrey as though she were a dangerous animal that needed to be put down. Her face was devoid of emotion, but her eyes were alight with a fierce fire that would have made the mediwitch flinch if she had not known how severely weak the girl was at the moment. She handed Graces the potion with a chiding smile, the patient took it, her eyes never moving off her. Pomfrey turned to leave.

"That will help your magic, but you need sleep as well. I suggest you take the day to rest and I better not see you sneaking over to Longbottom. Don't want you more worn out, especially since Mr. Longbottom can be so rough, as you say."

"Wait." The mediwitch turned at hearing Graces voice, a bit surprised that the girl was not going to continue to ignore her. She did want to get a rise out of her, but she knew that getting a rise out of a pure blood witch especially a Malfoy took more effort than this. Graces seemed a bit unsure of what she was going to say, she didn't look mad, she seemed more uncomfortable than anything. "Longbottom was never... rough with me. I didn't realize that you... knew who it was. He wasn't rough."

Pomfrey sighed, "Miss. Malfoy, I am well aware that Mr. Longbottom was not rough with you." The girl just nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "I am curious though how you two ended up in such a situation though."

"That is private," Graces said coldly, going back to her frigid demeanor. Pomfrey decided that now was the time to leave.

"Get some rest, Miss Malfoy."

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Everything was dark. Graces listened to the echo of her feet as she walked in the darkness. She was looking for someone or something, she didn't really know. She just knew that she needed to be found or she needed to find. There were no walls, no ground even, just darkness. Darkness that she couldn't even hide in; it was the type of darkness that offered no protection from others' eyes. She could see long pale hair tied back in a low ponytail.

"Father!" she exclaimed in relief. Father would know what she was looking for or maybe he was what she was looking for. "Father! Father!" Lucius did not turn to her so she began running, "Dad! Dad!" She ran faster, the air in her lungs starting to burn, but she pushed through it. Her father was here, he would know what to do. He would save her from whatever was lurking in the darkness. She ran and ran and realized with horror that no matter how fast she ran the unmoving figure didn't come any closer to her. "Dad!" she screamed stopping, "Dad, please look at me! Dad, try to come to me!" The figure then turned and she looked at her father's face.

The once handsome man looked haggard, his elegant robes that he usually wore were dirty and he had shackles on his wrists. "Daddy?" Graces whimpered. The blond man just shook his head sadly and turned away. As if saying 'No, I can't help you. I can't be your Daddy now'.

Graces sobbed and turned away from her father, unsure of what to do. He was out of her reach; she couldn't help him. 'Mother will know what to do,' she thought. She turned and immediately knocked into her mother.

"Mum!" she exclaimed, grabbing hold of her waist as though she needed to feel her to believe her real. "Father needs help."

Her mother lifted her chin and met her silver eyes with her blue ones. "There is no help for your father, child." Graces took a step back. Her mother stood there before her, but she was just a shell. There was no fierceness to her eyes, no unspoken dignity to her stance, she looked... broken.

"Mum?" Narcissa Malfoy just closed her eyes and her mouth was moving as though words should be coming out, but no words came. There was nothing. "Mummy? What do I do?" Narcissa's eyes opened and her mouth continued to move, but no advice was offered. Graces tried to tell her she couldn't hear her, tried to get her to understand that no noise was coming, but her mother just continued on.

"PLEASE LISTEN TO ME! WHAT DO WE DO? WHAT CAN WE DO?"

"Don't you see, my child?" Narcissa said, suddenly loud and clear. "We can do nothing, it is up to Draco. Our fate is in Draco's hands."

In a blur of colors Narcissa was now gone and the image before her was Draco kneeling before the Dark Lord, his arm held out in front of him in offering to take the dark mark. Graces moved to be near her brother, to stop him from making the mistakes of their father, when a hard hand grabbed her shoulder. She turned to fight off whoever dared to touch her and there stood her Aunt Bellatrix.

"This is an honor, child; your brother has been given a great task. This is what our family needs to be back on top. Why do you look so frightened? Be proud of your brother!"

"No!" Graces shouted, pulling herself away from her aunt. "NO! Not Draco! He'll die! He can't defeat him!"

Bellatrix had a dreamy smile on her face, "To die in the service of our Lord is such an honor."

"NO!" Graces turned and began running towards Draco. The scene had changed again and he was dueling with Dumbledore, but the twinkle eyed headmaster was no longer looking so meek and kind. He was dueling furiously using spells that would injure, maim, and kill. "Draco! Draco!" Draco did not hear her, he was struggling just to keep moving away from the spells. "DRACO! DRACO!" Graces was now running forward, she could see Dumbledore was about to use the killing curse and she leaped into her brother's arms as the flash of green light came.

Yet, she wasn't dead. She opened her eyes and Draco was holding her tightly on the ground. "It will be okay, Graces, just close your eyes. Go stand by mum." She turned around and Voldemort was standing before her brother and her. "Go."

Graces didn't go, instead she held tightly to Draco.

"Draco, Draco, you disappoint me," the Dark Lord tutted, "I give you one task, one chance to prove yourself to me, to save your family, and you failed. And you know how I feel about failure."

Graces looked at her brother, his jaw was set and his eyes were alive with knowledge. "Go to mum, Graces. Close your eyes."

"No, no, no, no," Graces whispered, "I won't leave you. Together we came, together we will leave."

"How sweet," the Dark Lord chided, "but we have other plans for you, Miss. Malfoy." Abruptly arms were around her trying to pull her away from Draco.

"DRACO! DRACO!" She struggled and fought against the arms, still holding tightly to her brother's chest, but he was no longer holding her. Draco accepted his fate, his defeat, his death. A strong pull loosened her grip and she was holding her brother's arm while it just dangled limply. "DRACO! NO, PLEASE, PLEASE, NOT DRACO, PLEASE! NOT MY BROTHER, NOT DRACO!" Tears were swimming down her face as she clung to her brother's arm. He wouldn't even look at her; she was staring at Voldemort, begging him now. "PLEASE! I'LL DO ANYTHING, NOT DRACO, PLEASE!"

"I have other ways of making you do what I want," the Dark Lord alluded, with a sickening smile. A final pull took her away from her brother and Fenrir Greyback was on top of her holding her shoulders down. She struggled harder against the weight, pulling all her magic in her limbs as she kicked and scratched against the force keeping her away from her brother.

"It is an honor to die at the hands of our Lord," her aunt proclaimed, smiling at Voldemort. "Your brother could have been killed by a follower of his, but he chose to kill him himself. Such an honor."

"NO!" Graces wailed, seeing Voldemort lift his wand for the finale, her brother's bloody limp body in front of him. "GET OFF ME! GET OFF ME! DRACO! DRACO! KILL ME INSTEAD! DRACO, DRACO, DRACO!"

Then, with a flash of green light, she knew it was over, her brother was gone. She cried out, angry tears running down her face and let Greyback hold her down, no longer caring to fight him. "You're all alone now," he whispered in her ear ,"No daddy or big brother to protect you anymore. You're ours."

She didn't dignify that with a response, he brother was dead, why should she care anymore about anything? She mumbled his name again and again as though saying it would bring him closer to her. As though this wasn't real, like it was a—

"—dream. Wake up, child, it's just a bad dream." Graces woke to see the mediwitch straddling her in her hospital bed. Madam Pomfrey's hair had come loose around her face and there was a deep scratch mark going down her cheek to her neck. She was still holding her down, her arms firmly over her shoulders and Neville was holding her legs his nose bloody and a large bruise forming on his cheek and under his eyes.

Slowly, the mediwitch let go of her arms and moved to get off the bed. Neville followed suit soon after. Graces sat up still shaking from head to toe and drenched in sweat. She could feel it dripping down her face onto her chest and her hair was wet against her neck and cheeks. Her clothes were clinging to her moist body and all she wanted to do was curl up into herself.

"Oh, sweetheart," Pomfrey said gently, placing a cold towel on her neck to cool her down, "nightmares. Why didn't you say something?" Graces pulled her knees up under her chin and looked straight ahead at nothing. She didn't want this. She didn't need pity. "I can give you dreamless sleep potion for awhile and—"

"No, you can't." Graces clipped, "I used it all summer."

"You became addicted; couldn't sleep without it?" the mediwitch asked slowly. Graces just nodded in reply. "And now you sleep, but still have the nightmares?" Graces nodded again. Pomfrey sat next to her and put out a hand to clasp her shoulder, but Graces moved away sharply. The mediwitch just nodded sadly. "I am giving you dreamless sleep, it's far worse for you to not be sleeping and having such violent night terrors than to be addicted to a sleeping medication. I will work in the mean time on finding something else to give you, but for this week at least you may take the potion." Graces just nodded again. "How do your housemates sleep?"

"I put silencing charms on my bed curtains and lock them," Graces stated mutely.

Pomfrey nodded and left the room to fetch the potion; it was then that Neville stepped forward and sat on the bed next to her.

Graces looked over at his bloody face and grimaced. "Did I do that?" she asked, a ball in her throat welling up.

"This?" Neville asked, gesturing to his face a warm smile on his lips. "Naw, I got this battling a right foot."

Graces didn't accept the humor, instead it just made the lump in her throat grow so large she felt as though she were choking on it. "Was it my right foot?" she asked hoarsely. She felt Neville's arms reach out to hold her around her shoulders and she knew that he would bring her into his chest if she let him and from there he would hold her close and it would feel so warm, so inviting, so safe and she would cry. She would cry endlessly and cling to him nuzzling her nose in his neck to hide her face, but allowing him to feel her tears. She would cry so hard she would have to gasp for breath and he would just hold her and comfort her and whisper nonsensical words in her ear to make her feel better. He would see her in all her raw agony and her weaknesses would be exposed. And if she was honest with herself, what really scared her the most about that scenario wasn't that she would be exposed to Neville, it was that she was okay with being exposed to him.

So she turned away and jumped off the bed standing in the corner of the curtains. "I don't need your pity."

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Neville sat abandoned on the hospital bed and Graces glared at him. "I don't—"

"Yes. You. Do. I can see it in your eyes." The sandy haired boy watched as she backed farther away from him. She reminded him of a dangerous animal that was cornered, she looked like she wanted to run away and fight all at once.

"Maybe I do," he contended quietly, "is that so awful that I have empathy for you? That I want to help you in any way I can."

Graces set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. "Yes."

"Why?" Neville implored, standing up and taking a step close to her causing the girl to move so that she was against the curtains.

"You know why."

"No, I don't," Neville insisted, moving closer so that he was near enough to touch her. Then the curtains opened and when he turned, expecting to see Pomfrey, he saw Hannah.

"Oh! I'm sorry," Hannah apologized, looking confused "I just... I heard you were sick and I thought I'd visit. It looked like this was the only bed occupied cause the curtains and..." Hannah then frowned and looked at Graces "What is she doing here anyways?"

Neville moved in front of Graces; he didn't want anyone to see her like this. He knew she didn't want to be seen sweaty and shaking looking this tired and frightened.

"She's sick too." Neville stated unsure of what else to say.

"Yes, but why are you two in here together?" Hannah was now frowning as though the thought of having to spend any time with Graces was awful. "Merlin's beard, Nev, what happened to your face?"

"WILL YOU JUST LEAVE!" Graces shouted, causing Neville to wince as the sound penetrated inside his ear.

"I don't take orders from you Malfoy," Hannah quipped, sticking her chin up.

"Hannah," Neville pleaded quietly, "please, I think it would be best if you left."

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Hannah could not believe that Neville wanted her to leave. It was unthinkable. "Neville, don't you want me here?"

She watched as Neville's eyes looked towards her and then looked behind him at Graces. "No, I uh... this isn't a good time, Hannah. I appreciate that you are here, of course, but I well..."

"We're very sick," Graces elaborated coldly, "quarantined together."

Hannah looked around the room. "With only one bed?"

"Are you a half brain as well as a half blood?" Graces spat impatiently, "Of course there is another bed, Pomfrey is getting it. Longbottom here bled all over the first one. Now get out."

Hannah could feel her rage building inside of her, how dare she call her that and how dare Neville let her. She looked over at Neville to see what he was going to do. They were dating after all, possibly past dating after that kiss, he should be defending her right now. Neville was just standing there though looking torn about what to do.

"Neville!" Hannah cried, "Are you going to let her talk to me like that?!"

Neville ran a hand through his hair, "Hannah, she's really sick and so am I for that matter. I'm sure she doesn't mean it; she's just upset and sick."

"Neville, stop being so damn understanding for her! I know that you're a nice guy and always try to see the best in people, but will you stop for one moment and just care about how she is talking to me!"

Neville then turned to face Graces and said with no real scolding, "Malfoy, please don't insult my friend." Hannah watched as he then turned back to her an annoyed look on his face. "There better?"

"No! It's not!"

"I'm sorry, Hannah, but what exactly would you want me to do?"

"I can't believe I have to even tell you this!" Hannah was now beyond pissed. "Yell at her! Hex her hair off! Something!"

Neville had the audacity to stare at her as though she was the one that had done something wrong. He moved so that his body was covering Graces more, his back pressed against her and his stance was in a way that told Hannah that if she reached for her wand he would grab at his own against her.

"I am not going to do that, Hannah. She's sick and she has asked you to leave. We both have asked you to leave, I'm not happy about what she said to you, but you're not respecting her either."

Hannah did not know what to think of what Neville was doing. First there was how he acted towards her on their date and now this. Not to mention the odd questioning after the first day of herbology. The Malfoys caused him nothing but misery, why was he protecting her?

"Miss Abbot?" Hannah turned and saw Madam Pomfrey enter. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see Neville," Hannah said, eyeing the boy in front of her. "I heard he was sick."

"Yes he is," Pomfrey said sternly, "and he and Miss Malfoy do not need visitors in their state. You should leave before you get sick."

"I may already be sick," Hannah said, looking at the mediwitch. "If what they have is extremely contagious I could be sick now. We've been spending a lot of time together and we uh well... we were kissing the other night."

Madam Pomfrey looked over and Neville and gave him a look that made Hannah frown and Neville look down at his shoes obviously deeply ashamed. "I highly doubt you have caught anything, Miss Abbot, you would have shown symptoms of it by now. One of the symptoms being a lack of common sense and tact."

Neville flushed a deep red and Hannah nodded her head and left. She wondered what Neville had, but if it did cause symptoms like Madam Pomfrey said then that explained Neville's odd behavior.

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As soon as Hannah left Madam Pomfrey had rounded on him pulled him out of Graces room and placed him on his own bed. "Neville Alastar Longbottom, I expected better from you." Neville nodded and looked down. It did seem bad; him going from sleeping with Graces Malfoy to kissing Hannah Abbott. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Neville looked up opened his mouth and then just closed it. "I.. she... she said it was a mistake and... Hannah asked me out... then she yeah and I didn't want to be rude so I... went with it... But I haven't kissed her since then, honestly I didn't even kiss her back then... not that it matters...they both think I did."

"And Miss Malfoy?"

Neville blushed, "Well umm... she sort of... umm kissed me the other night... but just to distract me and—"

"Distract you? Why was Miss Malfoy distracting you?"

Neville realized with panic that he almost gave away what had happened the night before. "Nothing, I didn't mean distract I meant... well."

Madam Pomfrey held up her hand to silence him before he could go any further. She closed her eyes in frustration and took several deep breathes, "You know Neville, I don't want to know. Something tells me I do not. Want. To. Know."

"Can... can I speak to Graces before you give her that potion?"

Pomfrey looked down at the boy she had been taking care of for the last six years, "No, Miss Malfoy I think has had enough excitement for one day. I need to talk to her privately before she takes the potion and I don't want her up any longer than she has to be."

Neville couldn't hide the disappointment on his face. He wanted to beg and plead with Pomfrey to let him see her, but he knew that once she made the decision of no visitors the point was moot. He nodded and decided that he could talk to Graces later; she did owe him a life debt so they would be spending plenty of alone time working on potions together. He would tell her then that Hannah wasn't his girlfriend he would convince her that he cared about her and hopefully she would stop being so stubborn and at least let him care.

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Graces was lost in a sea of confusion. Neville had been protective of her. He protected her from his friend and not in a passive way. Also, he had kept what happened between them the other night a secret to protect her as well. It was hard for her to accept though, why would Neville Longbottom want to protect her? She was a Malfoy. Not only had her family never been on good terms with his, not only had her Aunt and father tried to kill him last year as well were directly responsible for leaving him without parents, but she wasn't nice to him either. She had never once tried to be nice to Neville; she never stopped her brother from mocking him or stopped him and his friends for beating the tar out of him. There was no reason for him to be protective of her. Yes, she could understand why he personally never felt the need to do any harm to her; she had never directly done harm to him, if one did not count the night before, but still to be protective of her, and to want to comfort her after... well after she woke up. He acted like he truly cared, but it didn't make sense for him to care. It was... wrong for him to care.

"Graces," the confused girl turned and faced the mediwitch who had just re-entered "come lay in the bed dear." She didn't move to the bed, she just couldn't seem to find it in her to move, she wanted to stay in the corner where Neville and everyone had left her. There was no doubt in her mind that it was time to lay down, to let the warm folds of the covers take her away from reality and into a dreamless abyss, but she didn't want that now. Madam Pomfrey took a step towards her and on instinct she took a step back. "Gra—"

"Don't. I don't want your pity, I don't want you to hold me and tell me everything is alright, that it was a bad dream, that you are going to help me and all that other stupid Gryffindor nonsense."

The mediwitch sighed, "Would you like to at least tell me what you dreamed?"

"Are you not listening or are you daft?" Graces spat, "All I want is that potion you have in your hands and for you to leave me alone."

"I realize what you want child, but talking about things will help. Potions are only temporary solutions to your problems; you need to talk through them, perhaps I could help."

"You can't." Graces maintained, her frigid silver eyes staring into the Pomfrey's gentle blue.

The two women stood there in a pregnant silence each staring at one another. "Maybe your brother then?" Pomfrey tried, desperately clinging to hope that the girl before her would seek help.

"I will not burden my brother with this."

"I am sure your brother will not consider this a burden." Graces just shook her head and turned away, not wanting this discussion to go on any further. She jumped when she felt firm hands turn her around and the mediwitch was looking at her imploringly. "You screamed your brother's name again and again, you pleaded for mercy on his behalf, you wailed to be let go, you fought me and Neville like we were killing you, and then you begged for death. You need to talk to someone; you need to let me help you."

"What I need," Graces began slowly stressing each word, "is dreamless sleep."


	10. Chapter 10

It was now Friday evening, four days since the hospital incident, and Neville still had not been able to speak with Graces privately. The Slytherin had been escaping him all week. She was never in any of her usual places anymore, it was like she changed her whole schedule just to avoid him. She no longer was tutoring the younger years in the library. She took breakfast and lunch away from the Great Hall, and now she seemed to always be near someone, mainly her brother, whenever she was walking the halls or studying in the Great Hall. Even in Herbology, where they were partners, she managed to avoid talking to him. On Tuesday Neville had come to class expecting to be seated in their usual spot, up front away from the rest of the class, where he would finally have the chance to talk to Graces about everything that had happened: the dagger, the night in the greenhouse, his relationship (or lack there of) with Hannah and her nightmares. However, when Neville had arrived to class Graces was not in the isolated desk at the front of the room but in the center table that was walled on all sides with students. Neville had given Graces a knowing glare, but the blond just continued to set up the desk as though she didn't notice. Hannah and Hermione, of course, were excited to have him back so near to them. Hannah had talked to him non-stop, any chance she could, throughout class, making it absolutely impossible for him to even mumble a sentence to Graces. After class Graces had made a mad dash to the door. Though she didn't need to, because as soon as class was dismissed, Hannah was right at his side chattering away, clearly not noticing his irritation.

So now here he was on a Friday night sitting in the Gryffindor common room in his favorite arm chair surrounded by the friendly chatter of his housemates and pretending to be studying for potions. In reality he was, once again, driving himself mad over Graces Malfoy.

"Hey, Nev?" Neville awoke from his thoughts, and looked up to see Dean standing in front of him, looking as though the world had been turned upside down. "Graces Malfoy is outside in the hall asking—well no, not asking—demanding to see you."

"Really?" Neville exclaimed excitedly, jumping out of his armchair and stumbling to the floor after getting caught in his robes. Probably should have finished uncrossing my legs before attempting that. Neville thought as he brushed off his robes and adjusted his tie, trying vainly to make himself more presentable before seeing Graces. Completely forgetting that his friend was still there in front of him, by the time Neville looked up Dean was frowning quizzically at him.

"I, uh, am really in trouble with this potions essay," Neville made up quickly, "and she's, umm, tutoring me."

Dean looked over at the potions book and practically bare parchment that had landed on the floor; he nodded and seemed to accept Neville's excuse for his excitement.

Neville ran over to the portrait hole; he could not believe that Graces was here. It was possibly the best thing that had happened to him all week. She was here and demanding to see him. He prayed that she had finally come around, and would at the very least talk to him. He longed so badly to talk to her, to make sure she was okay, rested, and not having any more of those nightmares. By the time he reached the entryway he was so enthusiastic he burst through the portrait hole. Luckily Graces, upon hearing the the Fat Lady's surprised cry of outrage, jumped back just as Neville stumbled out of Gryffindor Tower.

"Oh, Merlin, sorry. I almost knocked you down there. I guess I rushed through a bit too fast, but anyways, hi! You're here! You're really here! I'm so glad. I thought, well it doesn't matter what I thought, because you're here and I—" Neville stopped his rant immediately when he actually took the time to look at the girl in front of him. Here he was chatting up a storm, smiling like a fool, and Graces looked extremely uncomfortable, even frightened, of his enthusiasm. "I... uh... well, did you come here to talk to me?"

Graces pulled out her hand and faced it palm up. Showing Neville that the scar that she had from the life debt was beginning to open. The sandy-haired boy could feel his heart sinking deep into his stomach. Graces was not here to see him because she wanted to talk to him; she was here because the scar from her life debt was giving her a warning.

"Oh," Neville murmured deflated.

"I was hoping we could start tonight," Graces said quietly. "That is, well, that is if you're not busy."

Neville nodded somberly. "Just let me get my books."

The walk to the abandoned classroom where Graces was to tutor him felt longer than it was. Neither student uttered a word until they entered the classroom.

"We're going to start with a test," Graces stated, placing a large amount of parchment down and moving to the front of the room to sit at the desk usually reserved for the professor.

"A test?" Neville gulped, not liking the idea of Graces grading an exam of his.

"Yes, but don't worry. There are no wrong answers. It just lets me know how you learn, so I will know how to tutor you."

"How I learn?" Neville echoed, taking a seat and looking down at the long test before him.

"Everyone learns differently," Graces explained, leaning back in her chair and holding her wand casually. "Some people are visual learners. They tend to do better looking through books, like Granger. Then there are auditory learners. These are people that do better when a subject is vocally explained to them. Auditory learners are more likely to succeed in a subject where they can discuss the topic. A visual learner is able to read something in a book and remember it, but an auditory learner is more likely to remember something they heard in a lecture or discussed. Lastly, there are hands on learners. These people tend to do better if they are physically engaged with a subject. I think I already know which one you are, but I want to be sure. Don't write anything that you think I want to hear, just be honest. Like I said earlier, you can't give me a wrong answer."

Neville hesitantly took his seat. He was still a bit nervous about taking a test Graces would be grading. Neville was very aware that he was not always the brightest of students. His gran had pointed that out many a time. He didn't inherit his father's abilities in school, but he didn't really fancy the idea of Graces knowing. He gave one final look over at the blonde, who was doing her own homework at the desk, before beginning.

As he took the test he was relieved to see that Graces had not lied. There really didn't seem to be any wrong answers. All of the questions asked him things about himself: what classes he preferred, what subjects he did well in, if he found his mind drifting through lectures often, what he enjoyed about various subjects and how he preferred to study. It was just pages of questions all about him. After about an hour he had finished. Graces was still seated at the desk, engrossed in a very large book. Neville awkwardly walked over to her and cleared his throat to gain her attention when she didn't look up.

Graces looked up and took the exam from Neville. She glanced at a few pages for a moment, before nodding. "I'll review this tonight and we can begin your tutoring tomorrow evening. You can leave now." She made no movement to get up as she dismissed him. Instead she looked back down at her book and continued along the paragraph she had stopped at.

"That's it?"

"Yes, Longbottom, that is it." Graces dismissed coldly, again. "You are free to enjoy your Friday night."

"You don't want to talk to me at all?" Neville asked, staring down at the blonde who still had not looked up from her book.

"No," Graces deadpanned, "I don't want to talk to you at all."

Neville could feel his frustrations boiling over. He was so sick and tired of the same song and dance that Graces insisted on putting him through. One minute she was friendly, the next she was cold. She went from helpless and vulnerable to scary and dark, from sweet to ferocious and the list went on and on. It was absolutely insane; no one could possibly be this frustrating all the time. Deciding that enough was enough, Neville reached down and slammed Graces' book shut. That got her attention. Graces was now staring up at Neville murderously. He was actually surprised that he wasn't scared, that he felt no need to back down. If anything he just felt more inclined to continue.

"Well too bloody bad, because I want to talk to you. And I don't give a shite if you want to talk to me or not!" Neville shouted, his hand still firmly on her book, keeping it closed.

The blond, clearly seething with fury, stood up from her desk and proceeded to savagely pack all of her things to leave. She had just thrown her rucksack over her shoulders and was about to walk away, abandoning her book, when Neville grabbed hold of her arm.

"You are not running away this time, Malfoy," Neville pledged, ignoring the way Graces was trying to tear her arm away.

"Let go of me!"

"No! Not until you talk to me, and I mean really talk to me."

"Why? Why do I have to talk to you?"

"Are you serious?!" Neville asked in exasperation. "Never minding all that I have done to protect you. Talk to me because I care about you, and am worried out of my mind about you. Talk to me so that I can sleep at night again!"

Graces was now struggling harder to move away from Neville's grasp. "You don't care about me! Just let me go!"

"Are you mad? How can you say I don't care about you?! I carried you to the hospital wing. I stayed by your side so you wouldn't be alone and hurt. I am keeping your secret about the dagger, and I have done my very best to try and be there for you. I was willing to die rather than see you in Azkaban or worse. I care about you. I care about you very much, Graces. Please, talk to me."

"Well thankyouverymuch, but I don't need you to be there for me! Why don't you stop worrying about me, and focus on your bloody girlfriend!"

"Girlfriend? You really are mad! I don't have a girlfriend!"

"Oh sure," Graces quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You and Hannah Abbott are just friends. Hannah is just a friend that talks to you constantly in Herbology, batting her eyelashes and touching your arm every chance she gets. Just a friend who visits you in the hospital wing when you are ill and kisses you on the staircase for the whole bloody world to see!"

Neville growled in frustration."We are just friends. She wants more, but I don't. And yes, I talk to her in class, but I am not the one flirting and we only kissed once!"

"I don't really care, Longbottom," Graces said, looking away.

"Then what was the point of bringing it up?" Neville challenged, "Apparently you care if you have been watching my interactions with her that closely."

Graces flushed and then pushed Neville so violently he had to catch himself on a desk. "I DON'T CARE! YOU CAN KISS WHOEVER THE BLOODY HELL YOU WANT. I DON'T CARE!"

Neville stood up against the desk and stared at the screaming girl before him. Slowly he walked over, so that he was nose to nose with the furious witch. "Yeah?" he challenged coldly, "You really you don't care? Whoever I bloody well want?"

Graces scowled. "Yeah, Longbottom, whoever you fucking want. Go kiss a muggle if it makes you happy."

Neville nodded before pushing Graces up against the stones of the castle wall and capturing her lips in a fiercely savage kiss. He poured all of his pent up passion for Graces in that one kiss. This kiss was so different from all the ones they had shared before. It was ferocious, he knew, but there was so much under the surface that it wasn't malicious. He needed her, he wanted her and for once in his life he wasn't going to be the guy that kept silent about what he desired. He had finally found someone with whom he truly felt he could be himself with and he was not going to give her up without a fight.

Graces Malfoy was potentially the most insufferable woman, but through some twist of fate she was the only one he could yell at like this. It wasn't that he liked arguing with her, but it was the fact that he could argue with her. He would never dare argue like this with anyone else, too afraid of what they would think or that he may offend them beyond repair. It wasn't like that with Graces though. He felt like he could tell her when she was being a prat just as easily as he could tell her that she was beautiful. Which she was. Graces was so beautiful, inside and out. She was a flower that only bloomed at night, hidden from the rest of the world except one who is willing to wait. As he pulled away from her, he couldn't help but think of how he would rather live the rest of his life in darkness if it meant she would always be in bloom.

Neville couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. He just wanted to bask in how wonderful it felt to have kissed Graces again and to feel her flesh pressed against his. He could still feel her intoxicating breath on his lips. He had yet to unweave his hand from her long golden hair. It was as though the dam holding all of his desire splintered to pieces. He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes to the cold depths of reality, a reality that Graces could never allow to happen. He knew that if he opened his eyes and she was upset, he could never attempt anything like this again.

Suddenly, his mind forced him to face reality and embrace Graces' reaction. Immediately regret flooded his body. Graces was looking up at him with a most peculiar expression. He couldn't sense if she was shocked, angry, confused or just thought he lost his mind. Quicksilver orbs just peered up at him, piercing his very soul with their gaze. Neville stepped back, unsure of how to act, but realizing he should give her some distance. Graces extended a tentative hand touching her swollen lips as though she were still trying to piece together what had transpired. Neville felt the hair on his arms stand at attention, this was the calm before the storm, and it took all his willpower to stand his ground while at the same time he could not stand this mercurial silence.

Oh Merlin, I was mistaken. How could I kiss her? That was rash, stupid and... UGH. She just wanted me to leave her alone. I'm the one that can't let go. I was the one that forced her into a life debt where she has to see me. I was the one that pulled her into that closet. And I was the one that refused to leave her side in the hospital wing... well, wait... that last time she didn't ask me to leave. She wanted Hannah to leave, not me.

But she wants you to leave her alone now, she just said for you to leave her alone and instead you kissed her. She clearly does not want to be around you. She was even avoiding her life debt and now she HAS to be with you. You trapped her.

Neville's realization made him sick. He never wanted to trap Graces. He truly did not intend for this to happen. He just wanted to talk to her, to know her, to care for her. But he wasn't taking care of her. He was only making her miserable. They had shared one night together, a night that Graces had made clear was only about needing comfort, yet he was pushing for more despite her saying she didn't want more. All she wanted now was for him to leave her alone, let her move on with her life. He had seen her brokenness. On multiple occasions he had witnessed that she was not okay, but he still continued to want more of her.

"I'm sorry," he murmured quietly, unable to even look at the girl before him. He was so ashamed. "I'll leave you alone."

"Don't."

Neville had barely registered the word before Graces' arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into her as she kissed him. And oh, Merlin, she was kissing him. The shy boy never even realized someone could kiss like this. He thought this was nothing more than another dream, that he would once again wake up alone in his bed, surrounded by the gentle breathing of his roommates. He would soon feel the usual disappointment that followed his dreams of Graces. She was not here. She was not tangling her fingers in his hair. It was the dream Graces that was pressing her body against his, contentedly sighing as her lips met his. Any moment he would wake. She would be nothing more than an apparition. Neville held her tighter at that thought, as though holding her tighter would make it so she wouldn't go away with his awakening.

"Oh Merlin, please don't let me wake up," he prayed, as Graces' lips were working their way up from his neck and back to vigorously kissing his lips.

"This is no dream," Graces breathed against his lips.

"You always say that," Neville groaned, blending his hand into her soft, flowing hair as he kissed her, passionately reveling in her taste and smell. His whole body was riddled with a consuming desire to be one with her, to feel her slight frame against his grander one, losing himself as much as physically possible in her before he awoke. He pressed himself into her more, causing both of them to stumble backwards until Graces was pressed against the wall, wedged between the castle and him. Neville felt as though he were floating out of his body. He was euphoric. He did not give a damn if he ever reentered reality as long as the beautiful creature pressed against him would forever stay in his arms. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his bottom lip. Instinctively, he pulled away, bringing his hand to his lips, realizing that Graces just bit him. He stood there, his chest heaving from all the excitement, staring at her.

"This is no dream," Graces repeated.

All Graces could hear was the sound of her heart pounding out of her chest, as she stared at the disheveled boy before her. The air around her was thick with anticipation. She waited for Neville to say something. She was just about to break the maddening silence when Neville's body thrust itself into hers. Their bodies clumsily crashed back against the wall. A low moan escaped from her as she felt the heat from inside Neville's mouth mix with her own and something hard pressed into her waist.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew what she was making a huge mistake, but she couldn't bring herself to care. All she did care about were Neville's dreams of her. When he laid down his head at night he thought of her and he continued to think of her even when he was no longer awake. That he was not lying when he said that he didn't think of Hannah like that. He was telling the truth. He dreamt of only her. She spent every day trying desperately to forget Neville. At the end of the day when she laid down in bed, she lost. And now, as Neville in one swift motion bent down and captured her legs, lifting her up the wall, she was prepared to lose the war.

"You smell so good," Neville murmured against her skin, sending shivers down her spine as he nibbled at her behind her ear.

"This is wrong," she moaned, as he pressed himself between her legs.

"It doesn't feel that way," Neville argued, running a trail of kisses down her beautifully defined collarbone. Graces again entwined her fingers in his hair. He pulled away so he was nose to nose with her. His eyes shuttered as he basked in the sensation of her breath ghosting over his lips."Do you want me to stop?"

Graces knew how she should answer, it was all very simple. She should just say yes, but for some reason even though she decided that was what she should say, "No, please don't stop." is what escaped her lips, her lips that were pressed against Neville's wonderfully sweet warm ones. And instead of asking to be let down, she wrapped her long legs around his waist and pulled him further into her. In doing so she fueled the fire igniting in her veins. Graces' passion burned from the inside out. She pulled the object of her lust into her more. Her skirt was now being raised as Neville's groin ground against hers.

As wonderful as all of this was, Graces still didn't feel satisfied. Her body ached to have Neville. She felt the rising heat boil up from under her skin, causing her to broil from the inside out with a maddening urge for more of Neville as he continued on with his primitive acts. Even with Neville's groans she could hear her own breathing becoming increasingly more erratic and could feel her clothes cling to her moistening skin. And that was without mentioning the sensations she was feeling between her legs. Every time she felt Neville's length rubbing against her itt seemed more taunting than pleasurable. After another heated kiss, she decided that she couldn't take it anymore and began hurriedly taking off her Slytherin tie and unbuttoning her shirt.

Neville immediately followed her lead and was wrestling with his own tie while planting kisses along any part of her exposed skin. She giggled as she watched him struggle to disrobe while continuing to hold her up. The sandy haired boy growled playfully at her antics before whirling her around so that she was lying on a bare desk with her legs still firmly clutching his waist. Graces couldn't help but continue giggling. Playful Neville was definitely a sight she wanted to see more of. "You're such a prat sometimes," Neville teased as Graces sat up and began gently removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt while staring up into his eyes.

"Not all the time though, right?"she pouted seductively.

Neville smiled down at her and Graces could feel her heart pounding in her chest at the site. "No, not all the time," he agreed softly, his hands now trickling up her exposed legs "You have beautiful legs, Graces," Neville complimented, his voice dropping an octave lower causing Graces to blush. "Do you have any idea how many nights I have lost sleep thinking of your legs and what I would give to be between them again?"

Graces had no idea what to say. Her whole body was shuddering as she struggled to contain her excited expectation for what was coming. Neville's hands were gliding higher and higher until he entered her inner thighs. Slowly he slid her panties down her legs, keeping his eyes locked on hers the entire time. The anticipation tortured her. Graces wanted nothing more than for him to caress her. She would have given her whole vault in Gringotts for Neville to end her wait. Finally, he slid his hands slowly back between her legs and gently ended her wait.

"Oh Merlin," Neville groaned, closing his eyes as he slowly felt more sending shivers down Graces spine with each precise movement of his fingers. It reminded Graces of when she had been given her grand piano. She had sat at the new instrument for hours, softly playing at the ivory keys, knowing exactly where to touch to make the grand instrument sing throughout the walls of the manor. She now felt as though she were the piano and Neville was the pianist. With every movement of his fingers he was making her come alive.

"I need to have you," he whispered huskily, as his composition in between her legs became grander with each movement. "Please, Graces."

Graces had no idea what she said, but as soon as she said it—or very likely just moaned it—Neville was tearing her panties off and was hurriedly unbuckling his belt all the while kissing her with such passion that she was afraid she would finish long before he began. She felt Neville moan deeply into her mouth as he entered her and she could feel herself become, if possible, more aroused. Just from the feeling the vibrations of that sound against her lips and the knowledge that she caused that sound.

There was no hesitancy from Neville this time as there had been the first time they were together. It was passionate and demanding, each partner trying to gain control over the other in a long dance. Graces was delighted to feel Neville take the lead so forcefully from her. It felt amazing to just have someone else take care of her needs and wants while at the same time fulfilling their own. There was no great sacrifice on Neville's or her part. They both were in turn getting what they wanted. She felt her body giving in to pleasure and letting go of all that had been straining it before. Her stress, worry, anxieties and fear were melting away as she felt growing warmth overtake her sex and strong hands move about her body. The feeling that was deep inside her was growing greater and greater with every thrust Neville bored into her. She opened her eyes unaware that she had closed them for this long and looked up, seeing the man that she had been wanting for so long. It was thrilling to see the same want in his eyes and watch his mouth move and eyes close with pleasure.

She leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth as he thrust with more passion. She melted into his movements, closing her eyes delighting in each spike of pleasure that coursed through her. She could feel herself tightening around him and bit her lip, to keep from containing her ecstasy, as he took her hips and moved deeper into her. "This can't be wrong," he moaned, bending over so that his chest was pressed against hers lowering her slowly back to on the desk where he continued to cover her exposed chest with affection.

"It is though," Graces whispered breathlessly, "It's so—oh gods—wrong."

Neville knew, somewhere in the logical part of his brain, that Graces was right, but as he kissed her collarbone and listened to her gentle moans while her unique scent of lilies, white cotton and lavender filled his nose. "Then I don't want to be right," he decided. He didn't give Graces another chance to protest, covering her mouth with his and kissing her into silence. Graces was now grinding herself into him and it was taking all the Gryffindor's willpower not to come in her then. He wanted to tell her to stop, to slow down, but he couldn't bring the words out of his mouth. It all felt too amazing, too wondrous, and he didn't want her to stop, not really. He just wanted her fulfilled before he was. "Oh Gods, Graces, if you don't stop I'm going to—"

"Good," Graces gasped, writhing beneath him and arching her back so that he was pushing against her wall. Neville groaned at how tight she was around him. He could feel her becoming more wet and could barely contain himself from driving into her as fast and hard as he possibly could. Unable to contain his own excitement any longer, he thrust into her and felt himself reach his peak as Graces screamed in pleasure. He soon felt her clenching all around his throbbing erection causing him to go over the edge with her, until they were both drowning in a sea of ecstasy.

Neville laid on Graces chest panting with exhaustion. "Thanks." He said quietly nuzzling into the stomach of Graces' shirt. The moment he said the word he blushed violently. Did he really just thank her for sex?

"Uh... you're welcome... I guess." There was a distinct pregnant silence following and Neville knew that Graces wanted him to bring his upper body off her, but he was too mortified after what he said to move. Finally he mustered all his Gryffindor courage and stood up. When he did Graces didn't move, she was laying on the desk staring up at the castle ceiling and yet not looking at anything at all.

"Graces?"

Graces looked over at him and then bolted up from the desk. "I have to go." She said hurriedly buttoning her top not even bothering to tuck it in and dashing around the room for her things in a panic.

"Go?! Now?"

"Yes, I ... Oh Merlin, I have to go." Neville watched, stunned for a moment, as the blonde hurried towards the door.

"Wait!" Neville was scrambled to get his trousers buttoned and hurried after the blonde buttoning his own shirt as he ran. "Graces, don't do this!" Graces was already out the door sprinting through the hall desperately trying to get away from him. "Graces! Wait! Malfoy!"

Graces didn't wait, though. She continued her mad dash down the hall away from him. Neville cursed and tried to follow suit, but she was much faster and clearly in much better shape than he was. He then remembered that she was the keeper for the Slytherin quidditch team and based just on her playing skills she must work out frequently. Still, Neville pushed himself to continue after her even when the only signs that she had been there were the distant echo of her feet through the hall. He had just rounded another corner when one of the schools suit of armors came crashing down on him.

Neville moaned and looked up to see Peeves the school poltergeist laughing insanely at him.

"PEEVES!"

"Hello, Longbottom!"

"What did you do that for?" Neville knew why Peeves did it; the damn ghost loved pranking the students.

Peeves just shrugged his shoulders and continued to knock over the rest of the suit of arms around. "That Malfoy girl was running as though she was being chased by a Basilisk, and taking this school's history into account, I thought she may be. So I decided to save the day and be her Knight and since I can't be in shining armor I just decided to use the armor around the hall." Peeves continued to just laugh boisterously as Neville climbed up to his feet.

"Where did she go Peeves?"

"Where all snakes go at the end of the day," Peeves teased, smiling wickedly. "To their common room."

"And that is where?" Neville asked impatiently.

"Oh, I can't tell you that," Peeves said, flinging another knights helmet to the ground. "That's a Slytherin secret."

Neville growled in frustration then remembered something.

"Oh, I see," Neville laughed, smiling widely at the poltergeist. "Too scared of the bloody baron." Peeves stopped dismembering the armor and looked over at Neville. "I mean it makes sense, no one has ever accused you of being the Gryffindor ghost."

Peeves ears let out steam showing his displeasure in Neville's comment.

"Fine," he bit out, tossing aside a shield, "Follow me."

Neville couldn't suppress his grin as he followed Peeves deep into the dungeons of the castle. He was just going to knock on their common room door and ask to speak to Graces. It should be easy enough, she after all had done that very thing earlier. Peeves took him before a suit of armor which stood motionless for a few moments before asking for the password in a dark raspy voice.

"Uh..." Neville looked over to Peeves for assistance.

"Just keep knocking, eventually a student will hear."

Neville did as Peeves suggested and waited by the armor. Peeves smiled and slipped through the floor leaving him alone. Suddenly the suit of armor stepped back and the wall's bricks shifted, but Graces did not appear. Instead Severus Snape appeared.

"Longbottom," Snape greeted dangerously, "What are you doing at my private quarters at this hour of the night?"

Neville opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He could feel his palms sweating and his skin was itching from nerves. Snape loomed over him like a dark figure of death. Neville had always been afraid of Snape. The man tortured him daily in class. He never understood why the Professor hated him so violently, but he did, and now here he was in front of him with no idea of what to say.

Snape's cold black eyes darkened, "I am waiting."

"I... uh.. I was looking for.. uh, Malfoy..." Neville watched in anticipation as his Professor looked at him with definite surprise, which he quickly masked.

"And why do you need to see Mr. Malfoy at this hour?" Snape asked slowly, moving out of his doorway and circling Neville, like a panther stalking his prey.

"Uh well... not Mr." Neville could feel a drop of sweat move from the back of his neck down his spine. "I- uh- wanted to speak to... Miss Malfoy not -uh -Draco Malfoy."

Snape grabbed the boy in front of him and whirled him around so that his hooked nose was almost touching Neville's. "Tell me, Mr. Longbottom, how I should feel about a boy searching out one of my students, one of my female students, at this hour of the night."

Neville's head went blank, he had no inkling of an idea on what to say to that. Snape looked as though he were ready to dismember him if he thought that Neville had any impure intentions for Graces.

Oh Merlin's beard if he ever found out...

"She'stutoringme," Neville blurted out. "Owes me a life debt... and well, I had a question and I was just—"

"And this question couldn't wait until tomorrow?" Snape interjected, bringing himself up slowly to loom over the frightened student before him.

Neville blushed. "I.. didn't think of that... We just finished studying a bit ago, and I thought I could catch her before she went to bed and, well, Peeves said this was where the Slytherin common room was and... yeah."

"Detention with Filch, tonight, for not knowing better than to call on a girl at this hour, and for disturbing my sleep, Mr. Longbottom. We shall see how you enjoy going without rest."

Neville just lowered his head and let the angry Potions Professor lead him through the hall to Filch's office. He waited outside the door for the two men to reappear, not at all happy about how his night had turned out. After a few minutes, Snape stepped out and was once again looming over Neville in a predatory manner.

"Also, Mr. Longbottom, the Slytherin common room's location is secret for a reason. I will not have you looking around the dungeons for it again or you will suffer the consequences and I won't be as pleasant next time," Snape threatened, before leaving the Gryffindor to suffer with Filch through the night.


	11. Chapter 11

Neville sat in the Great Hall surrounded by his fellow Gryffindors who were all chattering happily over their breakfast and enjoying their weekend. He should have felt comforted. He was sitting with his housemates, the sun was shining through the windows and everyone around him was content. It was just a normal Saturday. Yet it wasn't. He felt as though there were a dementor around him constantly and it was slowly sucking all happiness out of him. He couldn't even bring himself to pretend that he was okay and that everything was normal; it wasn't. Graces ran away from him. She had literally ran away from him. Neville would be the first to admit that he wasn't great with girls, but he at least knew that if a girl ran away from you it wasn't a good sign. How the hell am I ever going to make any headway with her if she runs away?! Neville groaned aloud and dropped his spoon with a heavy thud in his porridge as he cupped his face in his hands.

He felt a gentle hand touch his arm and looked up to see Hermione's brown eyes peering over a book at him. "Neville, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with concern as she set her copy of Hogwarts: A History down.

Neville hesitated. He could just imagine how the conversation would go if he answered her truthfully. Well, you see, Hermione, I think I am falling for Graces. You know, Graces Malfoy. The girl whose father tried to kill us all in at the Ministry last year. You remember her father, right? Tall bloke, with long blonde hair, very aristocratic features, and has the Dark Mark on his arm. Yes, that man. Anyways, I guess you could say I've been sleeping with her. To get to the point though, yesterday I shagged her in an abandoned classroom and afterward she ran away. Well, no, I think a better word is sprinted. So now I am incredibly depressed because I think I am falling in love with her and she can't sit still for one moment so that I can find out!

"Nothing." Neville shrugged, picking up his spoon, eating some porridge and trying to act natural.

"Neville," Hermione deadpanned, giving him a knowing look. The look that said that she was not going to let him drop this.

"It's personal," Neville sighed, deciding that any reaction Hermione gave would not be the most encouraging one.

Hermione looked around for a moment, before leaning in close to him. "Is it... well, is it about Hannah?" she asked, biting her lip nervously. Neville saw all his housemates, minus Ron who was stuffing his face with eggs, look over at him for a moment at hearing Hannah's name, but they quickly went back to their breakfast when they saw Neville meet their eyes.

"No, it's not Hannah," Neville answered, making sure that the boys around him heard as well.

Hermione continued worrying her lip, "Are you sure, because she was telling me that you haven't asked her out again and she's worried—"

"I haven't asked her out again because I just don't see her that way," Neville interrupted, not at all liking where this conversation was going.

"I thought you two kissed?" Hermione pointed out confused. Neville cast Hermione a confused look. He certainly didn't tell anyone other than Pomfrey about his kiss with Hannah. Hermione pinked under Neville's stare and awkwardly began playing with a piece of her hair. "Hannah told me," she admitted quietly, "she really likes you, Neville."

The sandy haired boy started shifting awkwardly in his seat, unsure of what to do, but definitely not enjoying the situation unfolding. Neville had been trying to avoid the whole Hannah situation. He was hoping that if he didn't ask her out and only acted friendly towards her, she would see that he didn't see her that way without actually having to have an awkward talk that could potentially ruin their friendship. It was only one date. You don't have to have a 'I'm not into you talk' after only one date, do you? Harry and Cho had one date, and they didn't have some awkward talk about their relationship.

"Maybe you should give it another chance," Hermione suggested hopefully, taking Neville out of his thoughts.

Neville caught Lavender Brown looking over at him sideways from her conversation with Parvati and blushed. This was not the conversation he wanted to have in the middle of breakfast, surrounded by his housemates. And if he was being completely honest, he didn't feel that he was close enough to anyone to be having this discussion. It wasn't that he didn't trust Hermione or the guys he roomed with. It was just that none of them felt like his best friend. He didn't really have that. Dean and Seamus; Ron, Hermione, and Harry; Lavender and Parvati; Fred and George. You really couldn't think of one without thinking of the other. He didn't have someone like that, though. He had friends but not other halves. He was just Neville. There was no other person that came to mind when thinking of him, and this was definitely not a conversation he could have with just anyone.

"Hermione, can we talk about this later?" he murmured quietly, hoping that she would understand and let it rest.

Hermione nodded and went back to eating her breakfast, every once in a while sparing a worried glance his way. Neville ignored the looks and continued to act as though he were fine. He appreciated that Hermione was worried about him, he really did, but he really did not want to have to sit and listen to her advice as to what to do, because Hermione did not know him well enough to be offering him this advice. Yes, they had spent time together and she was very nice, but she didn't know him well enough to be telling him what girl he should be dating. I must be the only one who doesn't think Hannah is a good match for me. Neville wished that he did though, he wished that he liked sweet, friendly, warm Hannah and not stubborn, cold Graces. He looked up from the table across the hall to see Graces sitting with Draco. A small smile on her lips as she buttered her toast and her brother talked in her ear with a wide grin about something. Well, stubborn yes, but not always cold. Neville wanted to hit his head against the table. He was smitten and he knew it. Despite what a pain in the arse Graces could be, he wanted her.

The usual assortment of owls came swarming the Great Hall, delivering packages and letters from home, the Daily Prophet and in some cases The Quibbler. Neville looked up, hoping to see his Gran's owl somewhere in the sea of feathers, and was surprised to instead see a giant eagle owl flying gracefully towards him. The unfamiliar owl hovered above him waiting for the rush of the other mail-carrying owls to finish. It seemed to not want to be a part of the crowd of owls that were dropping packages, delivering letters and eating off students' plates before heading back to the owlery. When the rest of the herd finally cleared, it swooped down in front of Neville and held out its leg. It was an odd owl. It seemed almost to despise the other owls' behavior. It seemed determined to act with more dignity. It stood completely still, awaiting Neville to take the letter. Neville clumsily untied the letter and the owl seemed to bristle with irritation at his fumbling hands.

"Sorry," Neville mumbled, pinking a bit with embarrassment at feeling nervous with a bird. The creature just gave a snippish hoot in reply, which did not make Neville feel any better. When the sandy haired boy finally managed to get his letter off the magnificent bird he took a piece of sausage off his plate and held it out. The owl just ignored Neville's gesture and lifted its head away from the sausage, its beak high in the air. Embarrassed at being rejected by a bird, Neville looked down at the envelope.

'To Mr. Neville Alastor Longbottom (Heir of the Longbottom line)' was elegantly scripted on the envelope. Neville was a little impressed by the look of his name. It was so formal and adult, written down so elegantly with his title.

"Heir," Dean said, wrinkling his nose, "That's a bit much, isn't it? Heir? Is that a thing?"

"It's a thing," Neville answered patiently, well aware that most of his housemates were not pureblood or those sorts of formalities no longer mattered in their families. "It's a pureblood thing mostly, but it is a very important title still. It's incorrect, though. I am actually already the patriarch. My great uncle Algie passed me the title over the summer."

"What does it mean, to be the patriarch?" It was now Harry inquiring.

Neville smiled wryly, he thought of reminding Harry that he was in fact a patriarch, but that would also be reminding him of his lack of family. "Nothing really," Neville lied, wanting to make the morning dreary for his friend.

"That's not true, Neville," Hermione chided in, sitting up at the table as everyone looked at her. "Neville, as the patriarch, would be in charge of making important decisions regarding his family. One of those decisions including where his whole family stands on the war. It's really a great honor, your Uncle could have held the title until you came completely of age or graduated Hogwarts."

Neville looked around at his housemates all watching him. He didn't tell anyone about his standing in his family, because in reality it didn't matter that much. That kind of stuff just wasn't important in Gryffindor. He really wished everyone wasn't looking at him. A soft tapping is what saved him any further questions on the subject. The owl was still perched in front of him and now had begun to drum it's long talons on the wood of the table so they could hear its impatience.

"I guess it's waiting for a reply," Neville said sheepishly, turning his attention to the blue and silver waxed seal. It was then that he realized that the crest was the Malfoy crest and thus this was a Malfoy bird. "Figures you would be a Malfoy," he grumbled under his breath.

"A Malfoy?" Ron exclaimed, now looking at the bird as though it had grown two heads. "What is a Malfoy writing to you about?"

"I don't know," Neville shrugged, " I haven't read it yet."

Neville broke the seal and looked down at the letter. He let out a snort at seeing that Graces had formal stationery for writing. The back of the paper water colored with the Malfoy crest and her monogram GBM was impressed onto the envelope. "What does the B stand for?" Dean inquired, looking over Neville's shoulder.

Neville looked over at his friend and noted that the rest of the group seemed curious as well. He really wished that he did not somehow become the center of everyone's attention. Especially now that he saw the letter was from Graces.

"Bellatrix." He tried to say it like the name didn't matter, like her middle name was Lynn and not the most feared witch of the age and also the woman that tortured his parents into insanity. The reason he was the patriarch now and not his own father.

"After her aunt?" Harry asked, his eyes widening.

Neville nodded. "Must be."

"How did you find out her middle name, Neville?" Hermione asked frowning at the envelope.

Neville pinked. "Well... when she was hurt Pomfrey was asking her questions to keep her awake and, well, one of them was what her full name was."

"Pomfrey let you stay with her?" Hermione continued, eyeing him suspiciously. She's not eyeing you suspiciously, you're just being paranoid.

"Yes, she did. She needed help. Anyways, I really should read this letter." Neville knew he was being snappish, but he couldn't seem to bring himself out of the bad mood that Graces had put him in the night before and he also didn't really like being under his house's eye. Please let this letter be good news.

Longbottom,

I have evaluated the test that I gave you yesterday and we will go over the results before we begin our first potions assignment together. Please be prompt at meeting me at seven tonight. Enclosed in the letter is stationary. Please write me back promptly so that I know that this time and place is convenient to you. Do not forget your potion supplies.

Regards,

G. Malfoy

Neville sat staring at the letter almost trembling with fury. Longbottom? Regards? Not even a tiny hint of friendliness. And to top it all off there was no apology or explanation for her behavior the night before. She just runs off and once again is going to pretend nothing happened nothing at all. Who did she think she was anyways? She certainly didn't listen to him when he was calling after her last night. Why should he just do what she wants? Especially when she can't even give him the courtesy of talking to him after they were intimate?

"No reply," Neville stated firmly, to the owl that was waiting motionlessly for his response. Neville turned back to his porridge and was about to take a bite when the blank stationery that was provided for him was pushed into his lap. He looked up to see the owl staring him in the eye, it's long sharp black talons reached out on the table from pushing the stationary.

"I don't think that owl is going to take no reply for an answer, mate," Ron commented, eyeing the bird with dislike. "I think you have to reply."

Neville clenched his jaw for a moment before slowly taking the stationary off his lap and setting it down politely before the bird. "No reply," he repeated slowly, pushing the stationary forward. The owl stared him down for a moment, completely unmoving, and then in one swift movement clipped Neville's hand with his beak drawing blood.

"OW!" Neville shrieked, jumping away from the bird and off the bench, causing him to tumble down on his backside hard against the stone floor. People from all houses were now looking over at the clumsy Gryffindor. The owl was perched on his knees, it's long claws digging through his trousers, pressing into his skin as a warning as it held out the stationary to him. Neville looked around embarrassed as everyone waited to see what he would do. He slowly picked himself off the ground mortified at all the eyes on him and this beast of a bird. He looked over to the Slytherin table to see Graces pretending to read and hide her bemusement over her owl. She wasn't doing a great job of it.

Neville pursed his lips, ripped the stationary away from the owl, before sitting down in his seat with an annoyed thump.

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Graces knew that she should not at all be amused with what Loki was doing to Neville, but she was. None of this of course was intended. She never in a million years thought that Neville would not reply to her letter. She actually thought he would jump at the chance to respond to it, so she had told Loki to wait for a reply. Now in hindsight that had been a mistake. And when the owl saw that she had provided the stationary for the reply he probably took Neville's lack of response as a great insult. And Loki was not a bird to allow his mistress to be insulted.

"I don't think I have ever loved that bird more than I do in this moment," Draco declared, a cool smile on his lips as he continued to watch the scene before him.

Graces sighed as she watched Loki snatch the letter out of Neville's fingers and swoop forward causing him to jump and stumble back. Neville had every right to be upset with her. She could admit that. she had panicked last night and ran away like a child. Neville not responding to her letter was probably the least of what she deserved.

"He is a loyal owl, isn't he?" Graces commented, watching Loki soar up through the Great Hall.

"Yes, he is," Draco agreed, as the bird gracefully fluttered down and spread its wings bowing to its master and mistress. Graces looked up to see Neville scowling at the scene, but she ignored him and gently pet the bird before her. What could she do? She couldn't punish Loki for being loyal to her, he didn't know that Neville had a right to be mad at her. Draco made to take the envelope, but the bird immediately picked up and moved to Graces side. Draco frowned puzzled.

"I told him that only I was to receive the letter," Graces admitted, trying to sound casual. She didn't know if Neville would have written anything in the letter about last night, she thought for sure he would at least demand an explanation. So in the end, she felt that it was best if she kept their exchange private.

"Why would you do that?" Draco asked eyeing her quizzically, clearly not liking the idea of her keeping anything from him.

"Well you see, Draco, Longbottom and I are having a very passionate affair and I don't want people knowing about it," Graces said casually, now opening the letter.

Draco laughed and reached out to take Loki. He was so pleased with the bird for the morning show he actually allowed him to perch on his shoulder and be fed from his plate. The bird made no note of enthusiasm, but Graces and Draco knew that it was exceptionally pleased at being on its master's shoulder like this. Malfoys very rarely allowed their animals to do so and they certainly never fed them off their own plate. This was a great honor for the post owl.

With her brother completely distracted Graces had the opportunity to read the letter, taking a cool swig of pumpkin juice. Graces was thankful that the Slytherin table was still chattering loudly about the scene, or she would have been mortified because what was written on the letter had caused her such surprise that she had choked on her own drink.

Gasping for breath and trying desperately to just pretend she was coughing she read the letter again.

G. Malfoy,

The time and place you are requesting indeed are convenient for me. I will be sure to be there at seven sharp and have all the materials on hand that you have requested. Also, if you are going to refer to me by my title you should use the correct one. I am the patriarch for my family now.

Regards,

N. Longbottom

P.S. I still have your knickers from last night.

P.P.S. You are a prat.

Graces quickly vanished the letter and looked up to see Neville giving her a very pompous smirk taking a sip of his own pumpkin juice after he raised his goblet to her. She turned and held out her arm to Loki. The bird jumped from her brother to her arm and she gently ran her hand over its cheek.

"You should have bit him harder," Graces murmured, smiling when the bird seemed to give her a quizzical look. "Next time. I have a feeling you will be delivering quite a few letters to Mr. Longbottom." The bird gave a hoot that sounded very much like an exasperated sigh that made Graces laugh gleefully.

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Neville still was very much upset with the prissy blonde sitting across the courtyard from him, gossiping endlessly with Parkinson. He wished she would turn around so that she could see him glaring daggers into the back of her head, but she had not even looked his way since breakfast.

"Neville."

Neville turned and looked over to see Hermione's brown eyes looking at him with some uncertainty. He forced a small smile. "I'm sorry, I keep getting distracted. You were talking about why obliviation spells should be considered unforgivable right?"

"No, I was just hoping I could talk to you about Hannah now," Hermione confessed, giving him a look.

"Oh," Neville let his smile drop and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I really would rather not talk about it, Hermione."

Hermione bit her lip. "But.. I don't understand. Hannah would be perfect for you. She's sweet and gentle, she loves herbology, you two are so comfortable around one another and she said that you kissed. I don't understand why you wouldn't want to pursue more with her."

Neville sighed, not really wanted to tell Hermione all of the reasons why, but knowing by the determined look in her eyes that he wasn't getting out of it. "There was, well, there was no spark."

"No spark," Hermione repeated skeptically.

"Yeah, no spark," Neville confirmed, blushing slightly.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend, "Neville there is no such thing as a spark. People don't have fireworks go off just from a kiss, that's just fairy tales. You are never going to kiss someone and just magically feel something."

The sandy haired boy looked over at the girl sitting next to him and scowled. "There is such a thing," he proclaimed defiantly, remembering what it was like to kiss Graces. "You just have never experienced it. It's... it's life changing to kiss someone and feel all that they are and all they could be with you. To feel your body float, even though you know you are firmly on the ground. To feel your inner being respond to them with so much want and need that you never knew you had. It's wondrous," Neville finished quietly, looking out at nothing and then bringing himself back and meeting Hermione's eyes. "And I can't be with Hannah when I've had that. It wouldn't be right."

Hermione was now scowling at her friend. "Who did you have that with?" she asked in surprise.

"That's private."

"Well, did whoever you kissed feel that when she kissed you?"

Neville halted and glanced over to where Graces was. She was now laying down lazily on the grass looking up into a tree. "I.. uh, I don't know."

"Maybe it was just lust." Neville glared at Hermione for making such an implication. "It could very well be lust, Neville. Our bodies react when we are attracted to people. What you felt may not have been magical, but physiological."

"Well then, maybe I would rather be with a girl that my body reacts to then," Neville clipped cooly, picking up a herbology book he had been reading for fun.

"Neville Longbottom!" Hermione hissed scandalized, before quickly putting her head down so as not to draw attention to them. "How could you say something so vulgar! There are more important things in a girl than that."

"Tell me, Hermione, what is the major difference between a guy you like as a good friend and the guy you like romantically?"

Hermione being able to sense where this was going tried to protest that there was more than just physical attraction.

"More than just physical, but physical is definitely a part of it. The reason you don't think of Harry the same way you think of Ron."

"Neville!" Hermione was almost as red as a tomato from blushing. She looked around, clearly trying to see if anyone had heard. "Ron is just a friend, one of my best friends. I don't harbor any of those feelings towards him."

Neville rolled his eyes. "Hermione, everyone knows, but my point is there is a difference. It's probably that difference that is the reason why you two fight so passionately as well. It's not only physical its chemical. My point being that Hannah and I do not have good chemistry. She's very pretty, but she doesn't spark anything in me."

Hermione still did not seem to want to accept what Neville was saying, but, before she could protest, Harry and Ron showed up. Neville decided that this was a good time to escape and excused himself from the group, pointedly ignoring Hermione's glare as he walked away.


	12. Chapter 12

Neville decided that he did not want Graces to have the upper hand in their meeting tonight. It sounded juvenile, but he hated how composed the Slytherin girl always was. Graces constantly seemed to need to be in control, and while Neville was used to women like that from growing up with his gran, for once he wanted to be the cool, steady one, the one with the upper hand. With that thought in mind, he decided that he was going to do everything in his power to knock those brick walls of hers down, and his first plan to achieve that was to catch her off guard.

So there he was sitting in an abandoned classroom, alone with his thoughts, well over an hour before she would be arriving. All day the sandy haired Gryffindor had been thinking of Graces. At first, after her monster of a pet attacked him, he was mostly thinking of all the bad things about her, but after his conversation with Hermione his anger had diminished quite considerably. Probably because he was then thinking of all the reasons he wanted her and not Hannah.

He had not lied to Hermione, everything he said was true. He and Graces had amazing chemistry, but it was more than that. Yes, the sex was fantastic and his body definitely reacted to her's. His body reacted to hers even when he just saw her in the halls. Just the other week he had been in potions, for once doing well with his assignment, and then Graces had put her hair up in her usual messy bun. After that it all went downhill. Instead of concentrating on what he and Hermione were brewing, he stood mesmerized by the three beauty marks Graces had on her neck. Neville had never thought that a neck could make him botch a potion, but Graces' neck did. When he should have been making sure he was adding the correct ingredients, he instead was fantasizing about standing behind her, folding her tightly in his arms, so that she was leaning back against his chest, and gently kissing the back of her neck right where those marks jeweled her perfect skin. But it was more than his body that reacted to her, his magic reacted to her. He first realized this as he felt hers' within him when he awoke in the barn. Now he constantly could feel his own power calling out to hers.

It was not quiet and gentle when she was around, it was active, humming with excitement inside him. He was beginning to think it was also the main drive behind why he was able to be so much of himself with her. He couldn't seem to just shy away from her with his magic egging him on. Things he would usually be able to ignore he now couldn't. If he was upset with her, he wanted, no needed, to show it. It was odd, feeling the need to want someone to see you. This was so strange for Neville, considering he originally spent most of his day not wanting to be noticed at all. Well, I think she is definitely paying attention now.

Neville heard the door being eased open. He glanced down at his watch and noted he still had almost an hour before Graces was to arrive. When he looked up he saw Graces enter. She was balancing a pile of books in her hands so high that her vision was completely obscured. He sat quietly as she placed the books down and began organizing her things on the desk. She had her hair in a messy bun again, two quills sticking out her messy locks, and a chocolate frog in her mouth that she was holding between her teeth as her hands continued to pull an appearingly endless amount of potion supplies out of her rucksack. Graces, after all her things were neatly laid out, sat on the desk across from her supplies and began taking her hair out, while at the same time finishing her snack.

Neville just sat bemused, in the same corner he had been occupying, enjoying the scene before him.

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I should have changed, Graces thought, looking down at her uniform. I could have worn that nice blouse with some jeans. Nothing too showy, but not a uniform. I'm always in a uniform around him.

Wait... why on earth do I care if Longbottom sees me in something nicer. Ugh! No, I look fine. A uniform is fine for meeting Longbottom and discussing ... well talking about... Oh Gods, I need more chocolate for this. Graces reached over and proceeded to pop her millionth chocolate frog in her mouth for the day. She immediately began to feel a bit better as she focused on the sweet sensation that was filling her mouth and not the knots in her stomach. Okay, I can do this. I can talk to Longbottom about our... relations with one another. It can't be that complicated, we've only had sex twice.

And what if he wants more?

Graces could feel another onset of panic well up through her, and grabbed the last of her chocolate frogs. Tearing its leg off and letting the small piece melt in her mouth. If he wants more I will calmly explain that that is not possible.

Do you want more?

Graces broke off the frogs upper half and shoved it in her mouth for that question. She wished this damn voice in her head would just shut up. No, I don't.

If you don't want more than why are you becoming so upset?

I'm not.

You are though.

Oh Merlin, I am upset. Why am I so upset? I can't really be fancying Longbottom, can I? This has to be just some rebellious thing, wanting the guy you can't have, the guy your parents wouldn't approve of, something like that. I can't really be that stupid. Graces popped the remaining frog in her mouth and nodded to herself. No, I just need to get Neville Longbottom out of my system and then-

"Eating that much chocolate cannot be healthy."

Graces almost fell off the desk she was balancing on. She looked over to the corner of the front of the room at the bane of her existence, Neville Longbottom was sitting right there in the corner, his arms crossed, openly smirking at her!

She tried to calm herself down, losing her temper at Longbottom would not be a good way to start off their little meeting. Especially considering what happened last time we both became heated up. Who would have ever thought Neville Longbottom angry could be so... NO!

"I suppose making me aware of your presence would have been too polite, Longbottom?" Graces drawled, praying that she looked as collected as she sounded.

Neville just continued to smirk at her, much to the blond's irritation. "Sorry, I suppose I thought we were past politeness, considering you had your pet attack me this morning."

"Loki did not attack you!" Graces argued, a hint of a whine in her voice. "He was just defending me. He thought you were insulting me by not writing back. He's a sweet owl, really he is. And you were being a prat after all. He wasn't the least bit nasty to you until you pushed that letter back at him."

"You sound like Hagrid when he is defending his pets," Neville chuckled, more amused than annoyed now with the situation. Graces scowled at him and he quickly added. "It's cute. Not that I think Hagrid is cute, or anything like that. I mean Hagrid's well he's... my point is it's cute when you do it. Just when you do it."

The two stood there awkwardly for a few moments. Graces could tell that Neville was mentally scolding himself and she decided that she would rather have him putting his foot in his mouth, distracted by himself, than noticing how off guard he had caught her. It also was quite endearing if Graces was willing to admit it. She would never say it aloud of course, but alone in her head she could freely think that she liked how easily Neville became undone. She was so used to purebloods, who always seemed to have every move and word planned as though they were performing a dance they had practiced since the beginning of time. Neville wasn't like that, he was... real. Genuine. Things that she could never say about the other boys in her life.

"I'm trying to be angry with you," Neville admitted, sighing. "Obviously I am not very good at relaying to someone that I am upset."

Graces just continued to stand, looking at Neville as though she were trying to discern what his next move was going to be. She watched him like a mouse might watch a snake waiting for him to strike. Neville decided it was now or never.

"You shouldn't have ran away. That was completely cowardly, not to mention thoughtless."

Graces frowned. "Thoughtless..." Neville watched as she seemed to be turning the word over again and over again in her mouth, as though she was unsure if she knew what that word meant.

"Yes thoughtless, do you even care how that made me feel?"

Graces looked down and closed her eyes, Neville watched as she swallowed some emotion down, before her gray eyes glanced up at him. "I just don't know what to do," she whispered, over the lump in her throat. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel anything. I don't know what to do."

"Talk to me." It sounded so simple coming from Neville's mouth, in his mind it was that simple, but as he watched Graces, he realized that in her world it may not be. "Tell me why you ran," he suggested helpfully.

"I... I don't know why I ran."

"You must have some idea." Graces just stood there sullenly; the sandy haired boy could have screamed with frustration. "You can't run away from everything forever."

"Thank you, Mr. Longbottom, for those precious words of wisdom," Graces sneered, now becoming angry with the boy in front of her. "Does your gran have that embroidered somewhere on a pillow? If she does, why don't you owl me it?"

"You can be as mean as you want to me, Graces Malfoy, but I am not running away. I am very used to verbal abuse, nothing you can say will faze me."

Graces raised an eyebrow at the boy standing before her. "Nothing I could say would hurt you?"

"I said faze me, not hurt. You can hurt me, Graces. You actually could hurt me a lot more than most people at the moment, but nothing you can say will make me leave you alone. I think you need someone, and if you need someone to be your verbal punching bag, I can be that."

"I don't need-"

"Yes, you do. I was there the night you were drinking and I was there in the hospital wing. Even now I can see the pain in your eyes." Neville was advancing up to the girl before him trapping her under his gaze. "And I saw the dagger."

The two students stood in silence of that statement. Graces knew that out of all the things that Neville had seen, the dagger was the most dangerous and possibly the most telling.

"At first," Neville began slowly, " I was horrified that you had it, that you brewed such a potion. Then I remembered what you said about You-Know-Who punishing your brother."

"Stop," Graces choked, her back against the wall now. She didn't want to hear anymore, she couldn't bare this. She didn't want to face this, she could hardly stand thinking of it.

"Graces, please," Neville begged, taking hold of her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "Is someone trying to hurt you? Is that it? Is it You-Know-Who? Please tell me, maybe we can go to Dumbledore or-"

"STOP!" Neville jumped back as the desks in the room all splintered into thousands of wood shards. His eyes widening at the powerful burst of accidental magic that came from Graces. When he turned back she was sitting on the floor, her head in her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

Slowly he bent down to her, gently placing his arms around her shaking frame. "It's okay, Graces."

"Please stop," she whimpered, causing Neville's heart to clench as the unmistakable brokenness could be heard in her small voice.

"Why lace the dagger with poison?" Neville asked, still hovering over her on his knees. Graces kept pleading with him to stop, it seemed with every breath she was able to manage she was just begging for him to stop. To leave her alone. To go away, but Neville wouldn't stop. She was here now and he needed to know at least one of the questions on his mind."You don't have to say who you are frightened of, but why that poison?" Graces just continued to sob uncontrollably. "Please, Graces, I need to know. I just have to understand why you thought you needed to go that far, because honestly, I cannot understand why anyone would make that poison worse for its victims. Do you have any idea how badly that poison hurts to begin with? A fast death is the good part of it and you took that-"

"BECAUSE MY FATHER ISN'T AROUND ANYMORE!" Neville stopped his questioning and stilled. "He's not here anymore," Graces whispered, as though she still didn't believe it, "and I need him. For the first time in my life, my father can't take care of me. My God has fallen, and I am frightened."

Graces looked up at Neville, her blotched face and watered silver eyes reminding him that there was so much to this girl he didn't understand.

"I never meant for you to be the one to get hurt," she whispered earnestly, reminding Neville of what he just said. Neville made to interrupt, to tell her that he didn't bring up how much the poison hurt to make her feel bad, but Graces put the tips of her fingers over his mouth and shook her head. "You deserve some explanation, but I can't give it to you. I know I owe you this, but I can't. All I can tell you is that the dagger and the poison were meant for no specific person, just the first person to try and hurt me. I wanted people to see to what extent I would go to. I wanted them to fear me." Graces was vigorously wiping away some tears that were still streaming from her eyes. "So I beg you, please don't ask me more. Just go and leave me."

"I can't do that," Neville said gently, causing Graces to cry even harder. "I will do anything, but leave you alone, Graces. Just tell me what you want."

"And if I want you to leave me alone?" Graces croaked between sobs.

"I already offered that," Neville reminded gently, pulling Graces into his arms so she could cry against his chest, "and you said don't. So now I won't, ever, no matter what you say."

Neville felt Graces hands cling tighter to him, her fingers digging in his skin as she cried harder into his oxford, dampening the cloth underneath. He didn't move away, he just continued to hold her, resting his cheek against her hair. She needed this, he knew better than anyone that she needed this. Despite how strong she was, Graces was just a frightened girl whose life was being torn apart by a war she wanted no part of, and Neville could remember that. Neville knew that he wasn't the person that could protect her against harm, as badly as he wanted to be; he was aware that he was in no position to protect her. He understood that her brother had to be the one to do that. Graces would never reveal everything to him, and even when she did grant him some inkling of information, it was with the weight of knowing he couldn't ever help her. He prayed that Draco could though. As each choked sob muffled against his chest, he prayed violently that Draco could protect her. He wanted so desperately to be what she needed, Neville would have given anything in his power to be able to give Graces just that. I can at least be the person she doesn't have to be strong for.

So with that thought in mind, Neville held tighter to the girl in his arms. Eventually moving her so that she was cradled on his lap, her arms going tightly around his neck while she continued to weep into his collar. He didn't offer her any pointless reassurances that everything was going to be okay; he didn't know that, and he was not going to lie to her. All he could do was allow her to cry without trying to stop her tears, she needed to cry. Neville knew all too well that people, like Graces, mostly cried when they have had to be strong for too long.

After an hour or so the cries diminished and a little bit, until they were gone. The room had become quiet and Neville just sat against the castle wall, Graces still curled on his lap, her head now resting on his chest as he continued to hold her. He began to wonder if she had just cried herself to sleep, he couldn't see her face to know for sure. Neville honestly didn't care if she had. He was so warm and content, with her body blanketing his, that he was perfectly happy with sleeping there for the night if she was indeed asleep. A small noise alerted him that she, in fact, was not.

"I don't love you," Graces hiccuped against his chest.

"And I don't love you," Neville stated back, continuing to play with a strand of her long hair that had fallen out of her messy bun. "Some days I don't even like you."

Neville could feel Graces small smile against his chest. "Nothing can ever come from this." Neville just hummed a reply. "I'm serious, Longbottom, nothing can ever come from this."

"What do you think I am expecting?"

Graces was silent for a moment, before sitting up and looking into Neville's brown eyes. "I'm not your girlfriend."

"I know," Neville said patiently.

"I never will be either," Graces added, watching the boy in front of her for any hint of emotion.

Neville just smiled, "I know."

The blonde frowned. "Then what do you want?"

"What do you want?"

"Answering a question with a question is not a very Gryffindor thing to do, Longbottom," Graces said sighing.

Neville just sat back against the cool stone wall. He was beginning to understand the girl in front of him more and more everyday. If he told Graces that he fancied her she would run away. He needed to let her move and set the pace. He could gently push, but Graces needed to at least believe she was the one in control. He could already see that he had the ability to get behind her walls, but he didn't have the privilege of being invited in. He needed to be close to her and wait. He had a feeling that if Graces knew him she would slowly let him in. It was already working that way after all.

"Gryffindor boys aren't really the talking kind," he divulged, moving into the girl before him, he gently nuzzled against her neck kissing her softly against the sensitive skin. "We're more of the action type," he murmured kissing a trail up to her neck before gently nibbling at her lobe. "Words are just noise anyways," he smirked.

"I don't understand," Graces breathed, as Neville pressed his chest into hers, breathing her in deeply as he moved to be on top of her, taking her small frame tightly in one arm as he lowered her down.

"I'm lonely," the sandy haired boy muttered, as he slowly caressed Graces bare leg, "and I think you are too. I want to escape that loneliness." Neville decided not to mention that his plan at the moment was one to permanently escape that loneliness. Instead he looked into Graces eyes and willed those silvery orbs to not see everything in his. "I'll take away your pain, if you help take away mine."

"Why are you lonely and in pain?" Graces asked softly, her eyes sadder for a moment, Neville liked to believe that they were sad for him. That this beautiful creature despite how crass she was actually cared for him.

"Oh, is it now sharing time, Miss. Malfoy?" Neville asked playfully, sitting up. He watched as Graces pinked and looked away. He smiled softly at her and cupped her chin in his palm before he kissed her deeply letting the heat from his mouth and body mingle with hers, leaving them both dazed.

"I'm all puffy," Graces pointed out, self consciously.

"You're beautiful," Neville promised, never taking his eyes away from her.

"It's just sex?" Graces asked, relaxing under Neville's weight. The sandy haired boy decided that it would be best for him not to answer that. He kissed Graces tenderly in reply, running his hands up her legs until they were lifting her skirt and removing the small cloth that would separate them. If Graces needed to tell herself it was just sex, to allow herself some semblance of comfort, than he could allow her to do that. She'll realize this is more when she is ready to, Neville thought before sinking into her.

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Graces was ready to just drift off into slumber there on the castle floor. She turned over to see Neville with his eyes closed still panting from their undertakings. His tie hanging loosely around his neck and the first few buttons of his shirt undone so she could see his chest glistening with perspiration.

"Thanks," she said, a small smile on her lips, remembering Neville's pitiful attempt at breaking the awkward silence last time.

"You are very welcome," Neville panted, not quite understanding the joke, until Graces started giggling on the floor. Neville frowned for a moment before turning over on his side and facing Graces. "Are you mocking me?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Graces continued giggling, now holding her side. "Where would you ever get such an idea, Longbottom? I mean who, wouldn't thank someone for a good shag? Honestly, it's just good manners. You're gran would probably just die of shame, if she heard you had shagged a girl and not even thanked her afterwards."

"You are mocking me," Neville groaned, in embarrassment, "I just...I didn't know what to say."

"Obviously," Graces teased, sitting up and pulling up her knickers.

Neville smirked. "I still have your other pair."

Graces stilled and looked over to see Neville smiling cockily as he folded his arms behind his head.

"Perve," Graces scoffed. When Neville just grinned wider she let out an annoyed sigh. "Well? Aren't you going to hand them over?"

The gryffindor just chuckled deeply. "Maybe I like having them."

"Dear Gods, Longbottom, don't tell me you are into wearing women's lingerie. I've heard some boys like that, and frankly if you are that kind of bloke maybe we should end this affair here."

The smirk that had been on Neville's face was quickly replaced with a blush. "No.. that's not.." Neville frowned when he saw that Graces was laughing wildly obviously happy for making him uncomfortable. "You are not funny."

"I think I am," Graces chided with a smirk, getting up off the floor and picking her wand up. "Seriously though, Longbottom, where are they?"

"In my dorm. I can't go around the school with a girls knickers in my bag, especially with how many times a day I accidently end up droppings its contents. I'll give them to you next time."

"You are pretty clumsy."

"Thanks," Neville deadpanned, standing up and starting to dress.

Graces just smiled. "Are you ready to get to work?"

"You seriously want to study right now?"

"Longbottom, the whole reason why we are here is for me to tutor you. What else would we do?"

Neville groaned. "Honestly I just want to collapse in bed and sleep."

"La petite mort."

"Pardon me?" Neville asked, his hands paused from finishing up his tie.

"The little death," Graces translated, shrugging. "It's a french term given to describe the aftermath of a male orgasm. The little death, because after you just collapse into sleep."

"You speak french?"

"Oui, bien sûr je parle français, ma famille a un château en France. Je passe tout mes étés là."

"Okay, obviously you speak french. What did you just say?"

"Yes, of Course I speak french. My family has a chateau in France. I spend all my summers there."

Graces began to feel awkward standing in front of Neville as he smiled at her. It was an odd smile he was giving her, one that she liked and disliked at the same time.

"So... you're the patriarch now?"

Neville's smile faded and shifted a bit from where he was standing rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Erm... Yeah."

Graces waited patiently for Neville to continue, but the sandy haired boy seemed content with the silence.

"Well," Graces prompted, wanting to hear more.

"Well, what?"

"When did that happen? I know for sure that at the start of last year you were not the patriarch, your Uncle Algie was. It was assumed he would maintain that title until you graduated Hogwarts. I thought that you would only take up the position of head this early if he passed away and I know he didn't pass away."

Neville was just staring at Graces, obviously bewildered that she knew so much about his family. "Not that I mind your interest, Graces, but how on earth do you know all that about my family?"

"I'm a pureblood," Graces stated matter of fact, like that answered everything.

"So?"

Graces rolled her eyes. "I was raised being taught every detail of every pureblood family. That includes, full names, family history, loyalties, and titles. All the Slytherins know these things."

"That's... that's a little much don't you think?"

Graces looked at him puzzled for a moment, "No. How are we supposed to know who we should befriend, date, marry, do business with, and offer alliances to if we don't know these things. It's important to know who is surrounding you. My father always said that the people around you can often be your best resources."

"Still... that's a tremendous amount that you have to learn. How are you able to keep it straight?"

"We started young," Graces answered simply. "Draco and I were home schooled until we were able to attend Hogwarts, like most magical children, and this was a part of our curriculum. I've been learning about your family since I was six."

"My whole family?" Neville whispered, his face turning pale. Graces nodded and watched as Neville swallowed what seemed to be an arrange of emotion before looking her in the eye."And... how long did you know about my parents?"

Neville was trying to stand tall, trying to give off the appearance that this was not a hard question for him to ask, but Graces could see it was. She knew it must be, Neville had never once mentioned his mother and father.

"Not until this summer," Graces said quietly, "when my Aunt was telling us about the ministry. My mother never told us why you lived with your Gran, I think she didn't want to scare us. Dying is one thing, but... We never really questioned why you lived with your Gran, I suppose we just assumed your parents had died on duty. Draco and I were told they were aurors, and that you're middle name was supposedly after Alastor Moody your parents mentor in the auror program. I never knew they were still alive."

Neville nodded. "It is after Alastor Moody," he confirmed hollowly, going somewhere dark in his own mind. "I don't know him though, we've never actually really met."

Graces now had an endless amount of questions whirling in her head to ask Neville. Like why hadn't Moody taken an active interest in his life, how did he feel when he found out it was Crouch that had taken an interest in him fourth year, what it was like having your parents alive, but unable to be parents. But she didn't ask any of them. Asking Neville those questions would only open more doors between them and that was not an option. This is getting too personal, we have to get off this subject.

"Anyways, I figured out why you have such a hard time in potions."

Neville moved to sit at the table where Graces was standing, his mood clearly more diminished. "And?"

"You're a hands on learner. You can't just learn from reading the instructions in the book or hearing them prattled out to you. You need to be able to work through and discuss each thing while you are learning. The way Professor Snape teaches is the exact opposite of how you learn, so I am going to teach you in a way that your mind will attain the information."

"How is it you know so much about teaching?"

Graces realized that Neville was attempting to restore some of the mood, that he clearly wanted to put away any discussion on his family, and that he was bringing everything back to her. Ordinarily she wouldn't allow too much talk regarding her childhood, but she wanted to atone in some way for her earlier behavior and though she hated to admit it, Neville looking saddened bothered her on some level that she wasn't willing to go to.

"My parents are very serious about education. Education has long been a family value, each generation of Malfoy women has made it a part of their duty as a mother to do their very best when it came to the education of their children. The thought being that well educated children could only aid in the value of the family. Each generation is raised to be better than the last. One of my ancestors, Armond Malfoy, he married Evelyn Wea-" Graces cut short and pretended to have a small coughing spell, but the cat was definitely out of the bag and he knew that she was about to say Weasley. Neville couldn't contain his large grin. It wasn't surprising, most of the pureblood families were related to one another in some way, but it was still funny to watch Graces blush violently at her slip.

"Anyways," Graces stressed, giving Neville a glare for smiling, "my great grandfather's wife, Evelyn Malfoy, she started teaching in various ways after a few of her children were having problems learning. She observed her children's reactions to different lesson plans and noticed that all her children learned in different ways. So she accommodated for the ways they learned, it then became sort of a passion for her and she designed all types of curriculums for each child. Later, when her kids were all at Hogwarts, she wrote the test and a book detailing the learning methods for generations of Malfoys to benefit from."

"Do you enjoy teaching?" Neville asked, curious to learn as much about Graces as possible.

Graces seemed hesitant to answer. She twisted her mouth around pondering the question as though she never thought about it.

"I suppose. I want our house to succeed, each year we get so close to winning the house cup. We all study incredibly hard, because we want Slytherin to remain an honorable house. It makes it easier when we graduate to get good jobs and to be well respected. I like being a part of that, and I like children too." Graces paused for a moment and Neville could see the inner debate of whether to go on turning in her head. "Also, my father wanted me to tutor the younger years. He thought it would aid me when it came time for me to get married. He wanted other families to see the benefit of having me as the mother to their future heirs. The thought being if everyone wants me I can have my pick of whomever I want and whatever family I want to be apart of."

"Is that what you want?" Graces didn't answer, instead she gave Neville a look that let him know that question was overstepping their boundaries. Neville blushed slightly, under the gaze. It wasn't malicious in any way, it was actually very patient, but her face was firm and she was giving him a pointed look.

"Sorry," Neville apologized.

They sat there for awhile, neither one knowing what to say or how to continue on with one another, but both wanting to continue talking. "I really appreciate that you are helping me with potions. I know you have to, but you don't have to be so patient. I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate it. I think I am even enjoying the subject now."

"You're, uh, welcome," Graces acknowledged awkwardly. "I umm... well I appreciate your patience in herbology with me... as well... I guess."

Neville smiled warmly over at Graces. "I like having you as a partner. You're actually a very competent herbology partner. The only time we seem to have problems is just in the practical side, because-"

"The plants attack me," Graces deadpanned with an amused smirk, "or commit suicide around me. I can't believe you just said I was a competent partner. Did you forget why I needed you so desperately to be my partner?"

"Trust me, Graces, I did not forget," Neville chuckled, taking out his parchment and quills.

Graces bit her lip for a moment before deciding to straighten something out. "Longbottom, I... you.. well, I don't think you should use my given name." Neville frowned, but gave Graces a look to let her know he was listening. "We established what this was and... well you using my name is too... too intimate." Graces realized how stupid it sounded, especially considering what her and Neville had just finished doing, but she still couldn't shake how uncomfortable it made her. Only a handful of people said her given name and those were all friends and family and Neville wasn't any of those. He was just ... well she didn't know what he was, but he wasn't someone she wanted saying her name.

"Graces." Neville ignored the scowl the girl sent him. "Call me old fashion, but I would like to be on first name basis with the girl I am currently sleeping with. I will not use your given name in public, because I can see that causing problems for you and I don't fancy having your brother kill me if he ever finds out what we are doing, but in private I plan on using your given name. I would like you to use mine, but I won't force it on you. Call this a stipulation in our arrangement if it makes you feel better."

Neville could tell Graces didn't like this one bit, but he made sure to stay firm on it even when she spent the rest of their time being sullen as she tutored him. He would egg her on a bit when she was being extra pouty by saying her name. "Thanks, Graces," "Like this Graces," or saying her name to grab her attention. Eventually the night ended with her muttering about annoying Gryffindors and practically running out of the room, but the sandy haired boy felt that this was great progress considering they agreed on another time to meet before she ran off.


	13. Chapter 13

Draco sat in his usual arm chair down in the Slytherin common room, staring out at the window pane into the dark murky lake. He remembered sitting up in front of that cold glass for hour in first year with Graces. He had been absolutely convinced if they sat there long enough, a merperson would come by. Their father had told them of how he saw two merpeople his very first year at Hogwarts, and Draco wanted to see them too. When no merpeople ever approached the window, he concluded it was because Graces giggled and fidgeted too much. Graces had pouted at first, but eventually gave in and for the next few days she was as quiet as a church mouse.

On possibly the tenth night of waiting, Graces, in her boredom, had fallen asleep against him. That was the night Draco saw something lurking in the dark water. He had cautiously woken his sleeping sister up so that she could see the dark figure drifting closer and closer over to the window. Draco had leaned in towards the glass, holding his breath in anticipation, all the while thinking of the letter he would write to his father after he saw the merperson, but Draco never was able to send their father that letter, nor did he see that merperson, because as the figure loomed nearer to them, he noticed how tightly Graces was gripping his arm. She held it so hard that it was tingling from lack of circulation, and when he looked down at her, she was sheet white with fear. Draco didn't even need to think about what to do. Graces was his sister, and seeing a merperson wasn't worth her being paralyzed with fear. Before the figure could come into view, he faked a sneezing spell, sending the merperson away, and Graces' fear with it.

Graces had of course seen it as a ruse and apologized, but Draco continued in insisting that he really had just sneezed, going as far as vowing that Graces and him would sit in front of this window whenever possible for the rest of their time at Hogwarts until they saw a merperson. Draco smiled at the memory. Here he was, in his sixth year at Hogwarts, and he and Graces still could be found sitting in front of this window on quiet nights, looking out into the water for merpeople, each of them pretending for the other that they were looking, when in reality they were just enjoying one another's company, usually talking quietly or jesting. Because of that, Draco never saw their time in front of the window as a waste.

It was different nowadays though; the mood was no longer light hearted, and Graces didn't speak often. She seemed to be as lost in her own thoughts, as Draco was in his own. She would come in late at night, knowing he would be there, and cozy up in the arm chair with him. It was Draco's greatest comfort, sitting in the still common room with his sister laying against him. Often times she would fall asleep, his arm around her shoulder and her face laying in the crook of his side, and when no one was around, he would watch her lying against him, far away in a dream, and cry.

He just sobbed silently for hours, because he had no idea how to protect Graces anymore. It was so simple before, when they were just children. All he had to do was hold her hand in Diagon Alley, fly under her when she was learning to ride a broom, chaperone her dates to make sure no wizard got handsy or disrespectful, and fake sneezing spells so she wouldn't have to see a merperson. Nothing was so simple anymore. Now she really did need protection and he was unsure if he would succeed at giving it to her. Draco realized none of this was his fault, that if it was to be anyone's fault it was his father's for putting them in such a situation, but it not being his fault didn't matter. The burden was still his to bear. He used to be able to talk to Graces about everything, there was nothing he could not tell her, but he couldn't talk to her about this. He couldn't tell her that he thought endlessly of how she may die, and how no one would be around to even properly bury her. He also couldn't tell her about what he was planning to do. Draco had decided when he took the mark that Graces soul would not bare the same scars his would. Her hands would remain clean, he would not allow her to shoulder any of this burden.

He knew that she wanted to help him though. Many times she had sat with him and opened her mouth as though to ask the questions that were floating heavily in the air, only to stop herself at the last moment. It was hard not telling Graces everything, but he convinced himself it was for the best. She didn't need to know about the necklace sitting in his trunk or the letters he was receiving at the end of the day from other members of the Dark Lord's following telling him of how their Lord was growing impatient.

A shiver went down Draco's spine at the thought, and he looked down at his watch. It was now late morning, he had been sitting in this chair for hours expecting Graces to come down and sit with him. She usually was the first up in the mornings, after him. He was starting to wonder if he should be worried about her, the last time she slept so late was when Blaise found her in the Greenhouse.

She had better not have gotten that pissed again, Draco thought darkly.

"Good morning, Draco!" Draco scowled as his sister practically skipped down the staircase.

"My, my, aren't you the pleasant one today," Graces teased, a mischievous smile on her lips as she flopped down next to him and kissed his cheek. "We should play a game of quidditch today," she mused, ignoring the look that Draco was giving her. "Oh! And we should get Blaise to join us! Ooo and Pansy too! I know she isn't much of a player, but it would still-"

"Who are you, and what have you done to my sister?" Draco interrupted, giving Graces a leery look. The girl started for a second before laughing gallantly, and the sound alone made Draco smile back. He had missed his sister's smile and laugh more than anything else, and he had not even realized it. Now though, watching high aristocratic cheeks pink with laughter and her silver eyes brighten with mirth, it was like being home in the manor, before the start of the war.

"Can't a witch be happy without her brother thinking she's polyjuiced?"

"Yes she can," Draco admitted slowly, "but you have not been like this in... I don't know ages." Graces merely shrugged, as though an explanation was not needed. "Well?"

"Fine," Graces huffed, "if you must know, I met with Longbottom yesterday and he shagged me so thoroughly, I slept like a baby the whole night and most of this morning, and now, aside from some mild soreness, I feel like I could go out and conquer the world, or whoop your pampered ass in a game of quidditch."

"You really do have a sick sense of humor," Draco groaned, as images he did not want in his head bombarded him. "You know that? Utterly depraved."

"You asked," Graces sang, making herself more comfortable in the chair.

"Okay, I get the point. You can be in a good mood to just be in a good mood. Now, let us please get back to something I understand, such as a quidditch game, and away from your warped sense of humor."

He listened to Graces prattle on for the next few minutes about how to convince Pansy to play with them. It took her all of about three seconds to come up with the plan that Draco would ask her to play, and that he would be exceedingly charming towards her when he asked. Whipping out some the famous Blaise Zabini moves even, and Draco, despite his own good judgement, ended up agreeing to all of this. He just couldn't bring himself to argue with Graces when she was this vibrant.

She used to always be this vibrant, Draco thought sadly, taking in his sister's appearance. She looks well rested too, and she slept in. My Gods, it's been so long since she slept in, I almost forgot that she liked to sleep in on weekends. Draco took note of how healthy his sister looked. For the first time in months he could see that she had truly slept, and since she didn't appear at all groggy he knew it was without the aid of a sleeping potion.

Draco was listening to Graces tell him about how she had decided to order new dragon hide gloves when Blaise walked into the common room. The dark skinned boy stopped dead in his tracks at seeing Graces excitedly talking, buzzing with energy on the sofa with her brother. Blaise looked over at Draco silently asking what had caused such a miracle, but the blonde boy just smiled and raised his shoulders as though to say 'who the hell cared'.

"Blaise!" Graces screeched, jumping up from her lounging position and throwing herself into the boys arms so he could swing her about. "I was just talking to Draco about you!" Graces confessed breathlessly, while the tall boy placed her back on her feet. "Please, say you will play quidditch with me today!"

"With a greeting and a smile like that, how could I refuse?"

Graces clapped her hands in delight, before running up stairs to change into athletic wear. Draco cringed when he heard his sister telling Pansy he wanted to speak with her, and groaned aloud at hearing Pansy giggling in delight. Yet, it seemed worth it to have to kiss Pansy's hand and charm the girl into playing a few games, especially when Graces came down moments later, all ready to go and shooing the rest of them to get changed.

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Neville was in an amazing mood as he sat down in the Great Hall for breakfast. Usually on days like this he felt awkward sitting alone and eating, while the rest of his housemates were off making plans for their day. Days like this were often just a reminder that he didn't have people who expected to be spending time with him, he usually was invited to go along with Dean and Seamus when they noticed him, but it wasn't the same as just being expected to be with someone. Not that Neville minded, he usually could find Luna somewhere and ask to join her in whatever she was doing. Seldomly she declined his offer to give her company, and on the rare occasion that she did he could just go and aide Professor Sprout in the Greenhouse. Neville, however, didn't feel awkward today, nor did it even cross his mind that he didn't have any plans for his weekend. The only thing his mind was focusing on was how unbelievably happy he was.

Graces, the infuriating prat, was finally not running away and had even acknowledged their relationship. Sure, she acknowledged it as one that was strictly sexual, but that was still a great improvement from her pretending that nothing was happening. It was a start, a very grand start in Neville's opinion, he imagined that with time he would eventually get labeled something a bit more meaningful. I believe she said she would never be your girlfriend, a snide voice clipped from inside his head.

Yeah, well, she also said that she would never sleep with me again. So I think I have a good shot.

"Hello, Neville," a dreamy voice greeted. The sandy haired boy looked up, and saw Luna taking a seat across from him at the Gryffindor table. She was wearing so many bottlecap necklaces that Neville could not even see half of her shirt. Neville smiled fondly at the sight, it was things like this about Luna that made her so richly unique and easy to talk to.

"Hullo, Luna. Enjoying your Saturday so far?"

Luna smiled airly. "Yes, very much so. It is a lovely day isn't it?"

"It is," Neville agreed.

"Would you like to go for a walk with me? I was about to go over near the quidditch pitch and look for nargles. I feel there must be a lot of them over there, judging by how people act during the games."

Neville tried not to grin too widely at Luna's statement. Luna and him were really starting to become close friends. He supposed it must have been the ministry ordeal that really sealed their relationship. Before they would talk in DA and occasionally hang out, but after the ministry he and Luna had sent letters to each other practically every day. He didn't even mind that hers were mostly filled with talk about mythical beasts he had never heard of, he enjoyed the correspondence. Luna had even visited a few times over the summer. He, at first, didn't know if it was going to be a good idea, his gran could sometimes be overbearing and Luna was of the opposite sex, but his gran seemed to like Luna. He had received a few odd looks from his gran when Luna said the occasional strange comment, but overall she approved of the friendship. It helped greatly that his gran was aware that Luna had been at the ministry as well, Mrs. Longbottom always had an appreciation for the brave. Though the elderly woman had made a point of talking to him about what would be considered a suitable wife, and judging from the conversation Neville gathered that, while his gran liked Luna, she did not think that he should ever pursue anything more than a friendship with her.

Neville had been a bit miffed at his Gran's presumption. Luna was in his opinion a wonderful girl: smart, funny (though she didn't mean to be), pretty, kind, brave, and had an amazing character. Luna could only, in Neville's opinion, add to someone's life. However, Neville did not have feelings of a romantic nature for Luna. He had started to develop them, but as wonderful as Luna was, he sometimes felt like she was too involved in her own world to actually be here with him. That might have still been fine, but since Graces, Neville was starting to realize how much he longed for someone that could be here in the present with him. Graces was able to do that, and she made him feel like he was the one that was needed. With Luna, he often felt like she didn't need anyone. Still though, he enjoyed her company more than any of his other friends.

"That sounds swell, Luna," Neville said, rising from his seat.

They headed off to the quidditch pitch and Neville listened intently as Luna told him all about her father's recent letter. Part of which detailed how he almost convinced a ghoul to stay in their attic.

"I don't understand why you and your father WANTS a ghoul," Neville said, shaking his head in bewilderment.

"How could he not? They're so fascinating. It's so unfortunate that none has ever decided to stay in our house. Father has tried to keep one, but they often leave after a day or two."

"Tried keeping one? How do you try to keep a ghoul? My gran has wanted ours out of the house ever since I can remember."

Luna frowned at this statement, as though she could not possibly understand why someone would not enjoy a loud, slimy, bucktooth ape looking monster in their home. "Well, my father and I would go up there often and talk to it, we would play music loudly in the house for it, and we even moved a bed inside the attic for it to sleep in. I decorated the whole attic as well. Still after a few days it left when me and father were sleeping."

Neville had to try very hard to look empathetic at his friends woes. "I am very sorry, Luna," he apologized, trying desperately hard to sound sincere. "You are welcome to come over to the cottage all you like in the summer and see our ghoul. Your father too."

Luna immediately brightened at the idea, and Neville was happy to see her excitement. His gran would be overjoyed as well, not only because she enjoyed Luna, but because he would tell her of how the Lovegoods somehow had a knack for driving ghouls out of attics.

"Pansy!"

Neville and Luna turned and looked over at the quidditch pitch to see Graces in front of the goals an exasperated look on her face, yelling over to her friend who was hovering high above her while Draco and Blaize were passing the quaffle up to one another heading for her posts.

"What?" the dark haired girl whined.

"You have to actually try to get the quaffle! NOW!"

"Graces, isn't it enough that I agreed to play?" Pansy asked, heaving out a great sigh. At the same time Blaize and Draco tried to put the ball through the hoops. Graces barely moved in time to prevent them from scoring.

"Pansy!" Graces growled, " You get your pampered arse down here now! I swear if you don't help me defend these goals, I will hex your hair off!"

"Lan-guage," Pansy sang, making no attempt to move as she continued examining her nails.

"Yeah, darling, language! I dare say I can't let you kiss me with a mouth like that," Blaise called, throwing the quaffle down to Draco as he zig zagged around the post trying to confuse Graces as to which hoop he would throw the quaffle into.

"Well, since I have no plans to allow your lips to grace mine, I can curse all I want," Graces retorted casually, after swinging herself upside down on her broom to punt Draco's throw. She crossed her arms and smirked at her brother as she dangled by her knees. Obviously, supremely confident in her flying skills.

Draco seemed to be pouting as he sped through the air and caught the quaffle where his sister had thrown it. He sat on his broom watching her for a brief moment, before tossing the quaffle to Blaise, with the instructions to put it through the center hoop then the left and lastly the right.

"You'll have a better chance of getting into Mcgonagall's knickers than getting the quaffle past me!" Graces taunted loudly, almost falling off her broomstick as she clutched her stomach laughing. The smile she had quickly went off her face though. Draco was now zooming in the air straight towards her. "No! Draco, you can't! That's cheat-"

Neville and Luna watched as Draco tackled his sister, head first, on her broom. Pansy was laughing madly, while Blaise continued to make goal upon goal. Meanwhile, Draco was wrestling Graces into submission on his own broom. The site alone was making Neville a little woozy, seeing Graces so high barely on the broom. Graces, however, did not look the least bit frightened, the only thing she seemed concerned with was the game.

"NO NO NO! Pansy, do something! Defend the goals! Defend the goals!" Graces was trying vainly to gain control of her brother's broom as he laughed loudly. "Draco! You cheater! Thou art the rudeliest welcome to this world! Were I like thee I would throw away myself!"

Draco just continued to laugh, even as his sister turned around on the broom and began whacking at his chest. "Thou dissembling folly-fallen fustilarian!"

"Ow! Ow! Graces, stop that, we're going to fall!" Draco bellowed, still laughing, even as his sister continued in her efforts to beat him up.

"Owner of no good quality! Away you moldy rogue away!" Draco's broom began wobbling in the air, and the pair of them began to tumble downwards to the pitch. Neville took a step forward, as though he were planning to run over to the pitch and catch them, but Luna placed a calm hand on his shoulder.

"He won't let her be harmed," she reassured tranquilly. Neville opened his mouth to argue with her, but she was right. Draco, despite the fact that Graces was still smacking him, had folded her into his arms and when they came to the ground slowed the broom as much as possible before he rolled off the broom protecting her from impact. He then proceeded to hold her down as he tickled her mercilessly.

"What did you call me? Rudeliest welcome to this world?" he asked, shouting over Graces squeals while he continued to tickle her her stomach. "Folly fallen what?" he chided, holding her arm up and attaching her under arm. "Owner of no good quality?" He had now reached a hand around him and was going after the under of her knee. "And I have no idea what the last was, but you, Graces Bellatix Malfoy, shall pay dearly for the insult."

Neville had never seen Draco like this. His pale face was pink with laughter and he was wearing a smile that matched his sister's. As Neville watched his tormentor become human, he realized why Draco meant so much to her. While the rest of the world received a cruel bully from the older Malfoy, Graces received a loving and playful brother. He had seen that Graces was very different in private, but he had not thought of the possibility that Draco was as well until now.

When Graces escaped, her face red from activity, Draco chased her around the pitch trying to tackle her at every turn. Blaise and Pansy just watched from above, laughing at the Malfoy's antics as though this were a common occurrence before both blondes collapsed from exhaustion on the ground, still giggling every few moments.

"Graces looks so much better today," Luna mused, turning away from the scene and heading to the edge of the forest. "The wrackspurts must have finally left her mind. I don't think they were letting her sleep." Neville looked back one final time enjoying the sight of Graces in sporting gear, pieces of her hair falling out of her ponytail, and her vibrant smile still plastered on her face before following his friend. "I tried to talk to her about them."

Neville could only imagine what that conversation had been like. "What did she say?"

Luna shrugged and looked dreamily up in a nearby tree. "She wasn't very pleasant; I don't think she liked me pointing them out."

"Was she cruel to you?" Neville asked slowly, not liking the idea of anyone being cruel to Luna, who was never mean or hurtful towards anyone.

"Graces isn't cruel, it's the wrackspurts they sometimes take over her and they are cruel," Luna stated certainly, turning her blue eyes over to look at Neville. The sandy haired boy didn't feel that comforted by Luna's explanations though. "I had no idea Graces knew Shakespeare."

"What is Shakespeare?" Neville asked.

"He's a muggle writer and poet. Very old, muggles consider his works to be classic. The insults she were saying are all his work, she must read a lot of his books."

Neville smirked. Graces Malfoy lover of muggle music and muggle books. Interesting. I should ask Hermione about this Shakspeare fellow.

Luna looked back towards the castle where the group of Slytherins were heading back. Obviously done with playing quidditch for the day. Pansy and Blaise were walking on both sides of the twins while Draco had an armed slumped over Graces shoulder. "It must be nice."

"What?" Neville asked, joining Luna at watching the scene.

"Having a sibling," Luna sighed, her voice filled with longing. "I imagine it would be like having a friend that loves you unconditionally."

Neville nodded, he had many times wished that he had a sibling. When he was younger he just longed for someone who would play with him and keep him company. Growing up with his grandmother didn't allow him the same kind of fun Ron must have had growing up. Now that he was older though, he longed for a sibling for very different reasons. He longed for the companionship that was sealed by blood. Siblings had a the most intriguing of relationships. One minute they could be screaming at each other, and the next they were joking around in the common room like nothing happened. It was that simple for them. They didn't need to hold back any feelings from one another. Neville imagined that if you grew up with someone, there really was no point in ever trying to act any way other than yourself with them. You could do and say whatever you wanted with a sibling. Neville had never been so open with anyone. He couldn't go up to anyone and tell them his deepest secrets and expect them to understand and love him no matter what. Suddenly, Neville felt arms around his middle.

"I wish you were my brother, Neville," Luna said quietly, hugging him tight while her face nuzzled his chest.

Neville blushed at compliment, unsure of how exactly to respond. Luna just always seemed to say whatever was on her mind, while Neville often felt the need to think things over.

"I wouldn't have minded having you for a sister," Neville admitted awkwardly, patting Luna on the back as she continued to squeeze the life out of him with her small arms. "Though, if I were your brother you would never get a date, and I would tease you mercilessly," Neville joked, slightly uncomfortable with the intimacy Luna was showing him.

"I can't imagine you teasing," Luna frowned, releasing Neville. "Why wouldn't you allow me to have a date?"

Neville blushed till he was so red in the face he looked like a beet, he thought that joke would have been rather obvious. "Uh... well umm..."

"Would you be concerned I would have sex? That's silly, you should want me to enjoy such pleasantries."

Neville just continued reddening, and muttered about how brothers tend to care for their sister's virtue. Luna didn't seem to quite understand the concept, but decided that it was just one of those things she wouldn't understand about people. Everyone seemed so odd to her anyway.

They walked back to the castle and after Neville's face returned to a normal parlor she decided they could speak again. "Neville, do you care if I pretend you are my brother?"

Neville frowned for a moment, clearly taken aback by the request. He honestly had no idea, what he should say to that. Luna was looking up at him, and for the first time Neville saw she was nervous. Neville gave her a soft smile, deciding that the request wasn't too odd. "No, Luna, I don't think I would mind that at all." The blue eyed girl smiled excitedly and gave Neville a tight hug, before she headed off to the Ravenclaw common room.


	14. Chapter 14

Neville sat outside on an old courtyard bench with Hermione's copy of Romeo and Juliet. He was thankful that none of his dorm-mates were out with him and that everyone seemed to be a bit preoccupied, because truth be told he was rather embarrassed to be seen reading this particular book. It wasn't because it was a muggle book, Neville could care less if people saw him reading muggle literature. It was because this book looked like a sappy veela novel that Lavender Brown or Parvati Patil would be reading. The cover displayed a beautiful, dark-haired muggle girl resting her head against her hand, staring up from a tower at the moon, and a young boy dressed similarly to Nearly-Headless Nick calling up to her. This was definitely not the type of book that Neville usually read, but he was sure that Graces would appreciate it. He imagined that she would enjoy talking to someone about a book she was fond of. On that note, he also found out that Hermione longed for the same thing.

Neville had never given much thought to Hermione's love for muggle books. It made sense; she was born in the muggle world, but he always thought of her as a witch. She was so learned in all things magic, it was easy to forget she was not raised in the wizarding world, and most of the witches he knew had been. Which is why, when he asked if she knew Shakespeare, and her eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas, he felt a tinge of guilt. Hermione was a great friend, sure she could be bossy and overbearing, but she was kind and always wanting to help. Neville had realized throughout the years, that Hermione's tendency to be overbearing in one's life was just the way she expressed affection. It wasn't that she meant to be this annoying know it all that always seemed to know what everyone should be doing. It was just her way of showing she cared. Which is why Neville felt guilty for never once asking her about her own home and what she missed about the muggle world. Throughout the years Hermione had helped him so much with classes, and he never did return any sort of grand gesture of affection or appreciation back to her. After he had asked for a book on Shakespeare, though, it was pretty obvious to the sandy-haired boy that she, probably much like Graces, longed for someone to discuss muggle literature with.

So he had sat patiently listening to her babble endlessly about this Shakespeare fellow and all the plays, poems and books he had written as well as listened to some trivia about the man: like that he had died on his birthday, and had a very forward mindset on women's rights for the time. Finally, Hermione had recommended what book Neville should start with, and insisted that this was one of the man's greatest works, recognized by people all around the world. She had also refused to tell Neville anything about the book, insisting that it would be all the better if he went into it with no knowledge at all. Apparently it was rare to find someone who had never heard the tale of Romeo and Juliet, and Hermione was tickled pink at the idea of Neville reading the tale knowing nothing of the plot.

As Neville continued reading on the first page, he sincerely hoped that Hermione would re-think her stance on not telling him anything about the plot, because he had no clue as to what was going on. Hermione had warned him that Shakespeare could be a difficult read, and that it sometimes takes a while to be able to understand the language and the time setting, but he had no idea that it would be this difficult. It didn't help that he knew nothing of muggle history or how they lived. It was only the first scene of the book and he was at a loss as to how this fight broke out. I really must ask Hermione to help me with this. Neville groaned aloud in frustration.

"What's wrong, Longbottom? Have you now forgotten how to read?" a snide voice asked from above him.

Neville looked, startled, and saw Pansy Parkinson sneering at him with Graces right behind her, a bored expression on her face. Neville flushed and quickly shut the book and went to put it in his bag before either girl could see. Unfortunately for him though, Pansy had already seen the cover.

"Oh, well don't stop trying on account of us," Pansy giggled, grabbing the book and turning away so Neville couldn't snatch it back. "Looky here, Graces. It's some sort of veela novel. Did you get this from your Gran? I never knew you to be a ponce."

"Don't say ponce, Pansy," Graces scolded quietly, as she looked over at the book in her friend's hands. Neville watched for any sign of recognition or emotion on her face, but much to his disappointment Graces remained absolutely devoid of emotion. "I don't believe this is a veela book. The girl in it has dark hair and isn't that pretty."

"I suppose you're right, darling," Pansy giggled, much to Neville's annoyance. "Still, definitely a sappy one." Graces nodded her head in agreement.

"It's Shakespeare," Neville elaborated, looking at Graces and not the irritating girl with her. "Surely, you have heard of him."

"I have not," Graces said hollowly, her silver eyes not showing even a hint of recognition.

"You've never heard of William Shakespeare?" Neville asked dubiously, standing up so that he was now eye level with Graces.

"No. I have not," Graces quipped impatiently, looking over to her friend as if Neville were the one that was going mad.

"He's a muggle writer," Neville continued, unable to believe that Graces was going to lie to him like this. "Really famous." Pansy dropped the book as though she had been burned from just touching a muggle artifact. Neville took that moment to pick up the book. "This is his most infamous book, its called Romeo and Juliet."

Graces' eyes traced over the cover and Neville held his breath as she took in the illustration. After a moment she looked up at him, her eyes looking directly into his own.

"I've never heard of it," she vowed, taking a step back and wrinkled her nose at it in disgust. "Why on earth would you think that I have? I would never taint my mind with muggle stories," Graces sneered nastily. "Some of us actually care about our heritage, Longbottom, and wouldn't be caught dead reading something that comes from a culture that wants to destroy us."

"Come along, Graces," Pansy interjected, taking her friend's arm in hers gently patting her sympathetically. "I won't make you spend any more time with Longbottom than you already have to."

The blonde nodded, and followed her friend without a backward glance at Neville. Leaving the Gryffindor irritated beyond words.

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"You're late," Graces deadpanned from the desk as she measured some dark liquid that Neville thought looked suspiciously like blood. The sandy haired boy ignored her and just started setting out his supplies. "I really hate waiting," Graces muttered dangerously, as she sprinkled some of the drops in the fire below the cauldron.

"Have you really never read Shakespeare?" Neville asked, hoping that Graces would admit that she had in the privacy of this room, praying that her denial earlier was just for Pansy's sake.

"No, can't say I have," Graces muttered, holding up the vial of what he suspected was blood to a torch, measuring how much she had left. "Like I said earlier, I don't read muggle books."

"I really hate being lied to," Neville murmured, causing the blonde girl to pause for a moment before setting the vial down and turning towards him. Neville could feel his blood go hot as Graces stared at him with an inquisitive look, as though she had no idea what he was talking about. "What is it? Have you told me so many lies that you can't figure out which one I am referring to?"

Graces lifted one of her defined aristocratic eyebrows at him, and Neville could see that she was not going to give in. "Longbottom, what on earth are you talking about?"

He looked at her in disbelief. He understood why she pretended in front of Pansy and everyone else, but could she not even tell him the truth when Couldn't she place any trust in him? She had admitted so much earlier, why on earth was she lying about something like this. He couldn't believe that she would lie to him, when they were alone, about something so trivial as muggle literature, which he only learned about and read for HER in the first place!

"You know what? "Neville bit out, a whole new kind of rage coursing through him. "I think that maybe it would be best if we were apart for the time being." With that Neville proceeded to begin packing his things.

Graces' face blanked for a moment. "Excuse me?" she whispered dangerously.

"I'm leaving," Neville stated firmly, swinging his bag on his shoulders and turning towards the door.

"Longbottom, wait!" Graces commanded, now moving around her desk to stop Neville from leaving.

"For what?" Neville called over his shoulder, stepping out of the classroom. He was a bit surprised to see that the blonde was actually following him out, and also that she appeared to be a bit disheveled.

"Is this about what Pansy said to you?" she asked in a hushed whisper, "What did you expect me to do? I cannot begin to treat you differently. People will become suspicious."

Neville growled with irritation. "No, it's not about that. Like I said, I loathe being LIED to." He turned down the next hall where students were trickling down the corridors into the library for study sessions before bed.

Graces halted for a moment, causing the tall boy to gain some ground in front of her. She reached out and grabbed the ends of his robe to get him to halt, but the Gryffindor wasn't having any of it and tore himself away before rounding on the Slytherin girl. "WHAT?"

"Will you be quiet and stop making a scene," Graces hissed, looking around nervously and seeing that a group of Ravenclaw girls were watching.

Neville just rolled his eyes, and continued to walk away.

"Longbottom!" Graces hissed again, continuing in following the boy. "Will you stop! You're making a fool out of me, just wait."

Neville then turned so fast that Graces actually bumped right into his chest. "A fool out of you? Seriously? That's rich. Cause you care so much about not making a fool out of ME."

"Longbottom—"

The Gryffindor boy was done. He continued to just walk away, leaving Graces alone. It seemed that she was unwilling to follow him out into a busy corridor. Heaven forbid there is a scene.

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Draco was beginning to wonder if his sister was going mad. One minute she is super excited, disgustingly happy, wanting to play quidditch, buy new dragon gloves and rough house. And the next minute, she's showing up for dinner sullen and moody. Graces' foul mood had lasted for the rest of the night. She had come and sat with him in the chair by the window after dinner, but the whole time she just pouted. When Draco had asked what was wrong, she had just glared at him before saying she was going to bed. Draco had woken up this morning with the high hopes that Graces' mood would have somehow been restored overnight, and she would wake up annoyingly giddy once again, alas she did not. Graces had stomped down from the girl's dorm, accompanied him to breakfast, where they ate in silence, and then went to her morning class for Herbology only muttering a quick goodbye, leaving him to wonder about the state of her sanity.

Dear Gods above, please don't let her be going mad. Draco prayed, rubbing his left temple as the beginnings of a headache began to plague him.

"Draco!" Draco turned to see a very pleased looking Nott walking towards him. "I was hoping for a word. Would you mind if I sat with you at lunch?"

Draco did indeed mind, but he couldn't say that to Nott. His family had fallen so far with the Dark Lord, that he needed as many alliances as he could have. "Of course not, it would be my pleasure. It's been too long," he replied smiling, ignoring that his beginnings of a headache had just turned into a migraine.

Nott smiled and followed Draco into the Great Hall. "Will your sister be joining us?" he asked casually.

Draco inwardly cringed. He knew that Graces had been acting civil towards Nott, but she definitely was not friendly with him. "Doesn't she always?" Draco replied with smirk, trying to be as casual as possible.

Nott chuckled softly. "Yes, she does. Even when we were together she insisted on having meals with you."

Draco smiled in amusement at the statement. "I suppose I'm more enjoyable to be around."

Nott eyed him for a moment, clearly trying to figure out if Draco was being playful or if there was some malice in the words. Draco smirked, daring him to guess. In the end the other Slytherin laughed, and put a firm hand on Draco's shoulder. In a familiar gesture that the blonde boy felt was more for show than actual comradery. "You Malfoys always have something to quip. I think that's what I miss the most about you two."

Draco was about to make for the middle of the table, but Nott stopped him short. "Let's take the end. I don't think you want the rest of the table hearing what I have to say to you."

Draco appraised the boy in front of him for a moment. Nott was standing tall and giving him a look that told him there would be no argument. The blonde boy slowly realized that Nott wanted complete control over the conversation. Gesturing for him to lead the way, Draco followed him over to the end of the table, never moving his eyes off the boy in front of him.

"What is it you want to discuss with me?"

"To the point aren't you?"

"My time is very precious," Draco stated, trying to gauge just how much control Nott felt he had.

The other boy just gave him a confident grin. "I think it would be best for your sister to be here. I plan on discussing serious matters. Ones regarding our alliances with the Dark Lord."

"Draco is now the head of our house," a cool voice sounded. Draco watched as his sister held herself as a full-grown witch even in her school robes. Her silver eyes failed to betray any of her emotions as she stared over at her former boyfriend. "It is up to my brother if I am to attend formal meetings or not. I am also obliged to obey his decisions in any matters concerning our family." She turned her eyes over to him and slightly tilted her head down in formal recognition of his place as head of house and as a sign of her submission to it. Draco looked over and saw that Nott was bristling at the loss of control on the situation. With one word Draco could send Graces away, and she would obey. Never even asking about the meeting, and it appeared that Nott wanted her here for it.

I think he is aware he isn't in charge. No need to piss off someone I may need. Draco smiled, and held out his hand to help his sister take her seat to the right of him. She inclined her head, and delicately manoeuvred to sit beside him, now washing the meekness off her face and placing a fierce coldness that matched their father's. Draco didn't mind, he was glad to have a sister that matched him, she didn't belong in a submissive docile position. She belonged alongside him, together he knew they were a force to be reckoned with.

The other Slytherin boy visibly clenched his jaw, but made no argument. He assumed we would behave as children, as friends. As though we were just discussing who would do what part in group work. This is a formal discussion and he wasn't counting on us behaving formally. What a stupid move on his part.

"Graces, I see you're as beautiful as ever." Draco looked to his side to see how his sister would react to the complement. She didn't seem to react at all, she tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment, but her expression never changed.

"I believe you said this meeting was about our alliances with the Dark Lord," Draco reminded calmly, bringing the other Slytherins attention back to what was at hand.

Nott smiled confidently. "Of course, it seems that my father has taken position in the Dark Lord's inner circle." It took a lot of effort for the twins not to show any signs of emotion at the news that Nott's father had replaced their father's position. Nott sat watching them for any reaction, and the twins could both see he was beginning to falter when they gave none.

"And?" Graces asked pressingly, her voice sounding more irritated than anything else.

Nott began to realize that he was losing face in this meeting and continued on. "I just assumed that since my family is doing so well and yours isn't," Nott trailed off, his statement winning him a cringe on the twins part. "That you would hope to be on better terms with me."

"I was not aware that we weren't on good terms with you," Draco vocalized, looking harder at the man before him.

"I think we could be on friendlier," Nott pressed, and Draco did not miss the glance he sent over to Graces either.

"I see," he said slowly, placing a possessive hand down on his sister's knee. "Well I will be sure to spend more of my time attending to a stronger friendship with you."

Nott did not miss the emphasis on 'I' in Draco's words and he looked over to Graces. "And what of you, Graces?" Nott asked charmingly, sending a smile that would make most the girls in the school swoon. "Will you be attending to a stronger relationship with me?"

Graces face was unchanging. "Attending to strong alliances is the duty of one's head of house. I, of course, will send out letters to your female relatives, and make sure to do my duties in that front, but I'll leave the men to their work."

"I see," Nott hummed pointedly. "I would advise you to be careful, my dear. You should be more involved with your brother's business, considering that he may not be here to help you later. You never know who you might need when he is gone."

Draco looked looked over at his sister, and his blood immediately began to boil. She was frightened. Draco now realized, that the point of this meeting had nothing to do with encouraging a stronger alliance with their families, or to discuss the alliances they shared with the Dark Lord. The point of this meeting was to frighten his sister into a relationship she clearly didn't want. Draco swallowed the raw hatred that was now burning in his throat, determined to save it for a later time, a more appropriate time. A time that would allow him to set it afire, and burn the man before him until he was ashes. But now is not the time for that, he reminded himself. Now is the time to keep the people you may need close, and, unfortunately, I may need this worm of a man.

"Graces," Draco said gently. Taking his sister's hand, and kissing her knuckles softly. "Why don't you go sit with Pansy."

Draco was thankful that his sister was smart enough to take the question as an order. He could tell that she wanted to stay, that she didn't want to leave him alone with Nott, that she wanted to know what was going to conspire, but she didn't fight his order. Still dazed from Nott's comment, she nodded her head, and made to leave. Draco stood with her, and kissed her cheek softly, in a gesture he hoped would reassure her, before she left to sit by Pansy.

Draco made sure his sister was sitting with Pansy, and was unable to hear the rest of the discussion before retaking his seat with Nott. "Now, now, Theo, you should know better than to worry the women."

The boy in front of him smiled apologetically. "Forgive me, sometimes I forget that you two are no longer on equal grounds."

Draco did not miss the hidden insult. "Yes, well we both achieved our positions as head of house for the same reason." Reminding the boy in front of him that they were both acting heads of their families, because of their fathers' incarceration. "Tell me, Theo. How did your father make the achievement of becoming part of the Dark Lord's inner circle from Azkaban?"

Theo smiled wickedly from across the table. "My father made sure the Dark Lord knew I was at his service if he was ever taken in. I have been kept well informed of my duties to our Lord as well as have taken the mark." He paused for a moment before continuing on. "Also, my mummy didn't try to prevent me taking the mark."

Draco clenched his jaw. "Well, your mummy is dead so she couldn't have, could she?"

Nott laughed exuberantly at Draco, as though he had just told a joke and not made a hurtful comment on his mother's death. "Like I said earlier, I've missed the Malfoy sass. I'm glad we will be working towards a stronger friendship, Draco. Who knows, maybe we will be more than friends."

"You're not my type," Draco said slowly, looking the boy over in front of him wrinkling his nose.

"I was thinking more of brothers," Nott elaborated, a smile still plastered on his face.

"Yes, it would be nice if our friendship evolved to be something more akin to brotherhood."

Nott knew that Draco was being purposely dense, but he chose to ignore that all for now. Instead he changed the topic to the upcoming quidditch game, and spent the rest of lunch being friendly towards the Malfoy, head of house. Once in awhile looking over to see if Graces was noticing their good humor.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

As soon as she could leave the Great Hall, and not seem as though she rushed her lunch, Graces did. The whole time she sat with Pansy, discussing mundane affairs such as who was dating who and what robes she ordered from the catalog. She had been in agony. Her skin was prickling, and her collar felt as though it had been bewitched to slowly strangle her. She had to fight every nerve ending in her body not to fidget or rip off her tie and unbutton her shirt so she could regain air in her lungs, because for some reason she didn't feel like the air was coming. She calmly walked out of the Great Hall and into the main corridor, and then began briskly walking past all the students to try and find a lonely hallway. A few shoulder nudges and turns later she found herself in the shadows of an abandoned hall. Where she immediately began tearing at her collar and sucking as much of the delicious air that she could.

She didn't even realize she was on her knees, her knuckles white as she gripped the ends of her collar tightly, pulling in opposite directions away from herself until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up, slightly startled to see Thomas Higgs standing behind her a somber expression on his face.

"Thomas!" Graces exclaimed breathlessly, startled at seeing the younger boy. She immediately pulled her shirt closed covering her exposed skin, flushing with mortification at being seen this way. "What are you doing here?"

The timid boy looked to the side for a moment. "A-are y-you Ok-k-kay?"

She had heard the underlying message in Nott's words: Face the reality that Draco will die, and make the necessary arrangements to ensure her own safety. Nott could not get her to take him back, so he was using Draco as the new means. He knew that the greatest fear that her brother held was for her safety, and he had just offered her salvation should he fail at his task. For now Draco wasn't taking the offer, but Graces knew it was only because he still held some confidence that he would be successful. The question was, would Draco still be as confident as the time grew nearer?

Graces had her doubts; she could see her brother becoming fearful and in that fear betrothing her to someone in good standing with the Dark Lord. A new last name to wash away the sins of her old one, it then wouldn't matter that he failed. It was a brilliant plan; she would be safe, Draco would have peace of mind and it would lessen one of the burdens that her brother was carrying. It wasn't like she had been raised with the idea of marrying for love. Marriage was for the family. It provided a strong alliance, brought new protection to both sides, and ensured a family legacy. Of Course, her parents and brother, wanted her to be happy, but the idea was love would grow and come later. She didn't worry about it much, she knew Draco would ensure she was treated well and that he would offer her company if she didn't enjoy the company of her husband. It really was functional.

Yes, because functionality alone is really what is important when it comes to marriage.

Graces ignored the voice in her head. She had enough problems at the moment without adding another. Like Neville. As stupid as it was, it bothered her that the Gryffindor had ignored her all through herbology. Usually, he greeted her warmly and tried to make small talk, but today he had completely ignored her. Not wanting to be the one to break the silence, they both spent the class pretending the other didn't exist, and having Neville angry with her was definitely problematic. Especially considering that the only time she ever seemed to get a decent nights sleep was after a romp with him. Sure she could sleep with a potion, or in the armchair with Draco, but it wasn't the same. The potion made her groggy, and Draco never let her sleep the whole night in the arm chair. He would always wake her up, and insist she go to her bed. Fussing over her, insisting she would wake up with an ache if she stayed all night, but one round with Neville and she slept like a baby.

I doubt he will be willing to go to bed with me when he is this angry though, Graces thought wryly.

"G-g-graces?"

Graces looked, and blushed realizing that she had been lost in her thoughts for so long. "Yes, Thomas, everything is fine," she said hollowly.

The young Slytherin did not buy it though. He watched as Graces stood up and placed a small smile on her face, clearly determined to be more convincing. "Everything is fine. I thought there was a spider that went down my shirt, and panicked a little. I'm just mortified with embarrassment now."

Higgs gave her a raised look. It was obvious the young boy was not at all impressed with her story, and he had no problems displaying that as he continued to stare at her.

"I h-heard what N-Nott s-s-said," Higgs bit out, obviously trying very hard not to stutter. Graces stood up from the ground, and gave the small boy a dangerous look.

She should have looked around to see who was sitting close to them. Thomas was so quiet during lunches though, letting his friends talk and never saying a word while in public. She may have not noticed him either way. Draco would have noticed though, he always notices that sort of thing. Graces look darkened as she realized Higgs must have been enhanced his hearing in order to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"That" she said slowly, "was a very private meeting."

"I-in the h-hall?"Higgs stopped that chain of thought at the look on Graces' face. "S-s-sorry."

"You need to head to class now, Higgs," Graces ordered coldly, causing the younger boy to fidget. Higgs didn't move though, he stood there awkwardly fiddling with his hands. Grace, having enough of such nonsense, was about to punish the boy, when Higgs jumped forward and, as though on impulse, wrapped his arms around her middle.

Graces stood motionless her arms out around her, unsure of what to make of this sudden display of affection.

"I-it's g-g-going to b-be ok-k-kay," Higgs stuttered, clinging tighter to Graces and closing his eyes as though he expected any moment to be hexed. "It w-w-will b-be."

Graces nodded her head, and awkwardly patted the boy's shoulders. This is beginning to get out of hand, now my 3rd years are worrying about me. That is unacceptable, I need to get things together. Regain control of the aspects of my life that I still have that power over.

"There really isn't anything to worry over, Thomas," Graces lied, putting on a warm smile that, in Thomas' opinion, did not quite meet her eyes. "I think you misunderstood the meeting, darling. Now come, if someone catches us in the hall like this they're going to think I'm taking advantage of you."

Thomas smiled, and released his hold on the older girl. "W-ho s-s-said it w-would b-be t-taking ad-d-dvantage?"

"Thomas Higgs!" Graces exclaimed, swatting the boy hard on the arm. The young Slytherin didn't seem to care though, he just continued on chuckling even as Graces playfully poked him in the rib with her wand. "That is not appropriate, young man," she stated firmly, emphasizing each word with a poke.

"M-my ap-p-polog-g-gies," Thomas sniggered, now trying to act more gentlemanly.

Graces smirked as he repositioned his posture and put away his playful smile in exchange for his usual stolid expression before offering his arm for her to accompany him. She accepted, more comfortable with playfulness than the intimacy she was shown earlier, and strolled side by side with the boy. As they walked down the hall she suddenly felt her tie begin tying itself up and her shirt straighten out. She looked sideways at Higgs to see him staring forward as though nothing were happening. Graces was about to ask the boy when he had mastered his magic like this when she felt her hair being smoothed back and put into place.

"Now you're just showing off," Graces scoffed.


	15. Chapter 15

Neville watched as Graces emerged into the hall with Higgs. She had just said something to the boy and was now smiling in amusement as the overly confident looking Slytherin just gave her a small grin that made Neville's blood boil. The boy caught Neville staring and gave him a pretentious look before turning his nose up at him. Graces frowned at the Higg's sudden change in demeanor and looked over at Neville before doing the same as she passed by.

Neville didn't know what possessed him, maybe he just wanted to make Graces admit that she had indeed lied to him, rile her up, or maybe he just wanted to illicit some emotion from her, but before he really thought too much about it he bit his thumb over at the girl. Next thing he knew he was being pinned against the wall. Graces' arm was across his neck and her bag was discarded.

"How dare you bite your thumb at me! You—"

"Dissembling folly-fallen fustilarian," Neville choked out before bringing up his arms and moving the irate blonde off him. He massaged his adam's apple and looked up to see Graces' face completely devoid of color, her hand raised almost to her mouth. "Don't read Shakespeare, huh?" he asked. His voice still strained from the pressure previously put on it, but staring angrily at the girl before him.

"Miss Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall shrieked, making her way through the crowd of gawkers. "What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?"

Graces looked around, realising all the people that had witnessed her outburst. Neville watched as she swallowed some sort of raw emotion before looking up at the deputy headmistress.

"You're supposed to be a prefect!" the stern woman continued, "An example for everyone, and here you are participating in muggle dueling in the halls!" The blonde winced at the comparison to muggles. "You could lose your position over this, you foolish girl, and—"

"I provoked her," Neville confessed loudly, causing the stern woman to stop her rant and gape at him.

"You, Longbottom?" Neville nodded solemnly and shot an apologetic look at Graces who was so angry she was looking dead ahead at nothing her lips pursed. "What did you do?" she continued, her voice edging on surprise and irritation as if she didn't completely believe him, causing Neville flushed bright red from shame. Neville's head of house pursed her lips, and leaned down to his ear. "Neville," she whispered softly, "you weren't... vulgar to her were you?"

"No, no of course not," Neville stammered, even more embarrassed that his head of house had to ask.

"Then what, pray, did you do?" McGonagall berated, irritated now. Neville winced as her voice became shrill, a sign that she was very close to losing her cool temperament.

"I, uh.. I," Neville paused, as the hall became eerily silent. He looked around still able to see people talking and whispering to one another, but he didn't hear them at all. It was as if a bubble had been put up around him, Graces, the Professor and the other Slytherin.

"Thank you, Thomas," Graces said quietly, looking over at the boy as he stood tall against the wall, a hard look plastered on his face. He nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement, before continuing to stare over at Neville hostilly.

"Mr. Higgs, I believe you have class. You may leave," McGonagall stated briskly. However, Higgs did not move, he stood like a statue against the wall, only giving her a sideways glance acknowledging that he heard her. Professor McGonagall's eyes widened at the insolence, and her lips tightened so hard they were almost white. "Mr. Higgs, if you do not leave this moment I will deduct points from your house for insubordination. Is that what you want?" Higgs looked over at her coolly for a moment before shifting his feet slightly and leaning on the wall to make himself more comfortable.

Neville caught a glint of a familiar spark in the professor's eyes, a spark that all the students in Gryffindor knew well. It was easy to forget that the aged woman standing before them was the same woman that many of the Death Eaters in the first war feared, but every once in a while when she caught the boys playing around with jinxes that could potentially be dangerous, or caught students out past curfew heading towards the forbidden forest, they caught a glimpse of the fierce woman that had fought so many battles and killed so many dangerous wizards. And right now, she looked as though she could kill Higgs. Her face turned red and her eyes narrowed. "Fifty points from Slytherin." The boy still did not move, the professor looked as though she were going to continue, but Graces spoke up first.

"I'll keep the silencing charm up, Thomas," Graces said, looking over at the boy and giving him an impish smile, "It's okay." Thomas didn't seem to want to go, but Graces gave him an encouraging nod. "Really, I'm alright." Thomas nodded his head to Graces and sent a scowl over at Neville. Professor McGonagall informed him that she would be speaking with his head of house before he departed.

Neville sighed and watched the boy disappear, noting that he ensured with a glare that everyone else did the same. Lavender and Parvati looked as though leaving was the last thing they were going to do, but both girls jumped and pressed their hands to their lips as though something had snapped inside their mouth. They turned reproachfully to the side to see that Thomas was looking at them pointedly and with one last howl from each girl, he sent another non-verbal hex. The girls bustled away, not willing to be stung any longer.

The head of Gryffindor looked as though she wanted to say something about his hex, but she realized she couldn't when it was done non-verbally. She then, with a huff, turned and glared at Neville obviously wanting an answer to her previous question. "I bit my thumb at her. It's a muggle gesture," Neville elaborated, when the professor just stared at him.

"I am well aware of the meaning, Longbottom. I am just surprised that you know it." She then turned to Graces. "Or that you knew it Miss Malfoy." Graces just stared coldly at Neville, a look of deep betrayal etched in her face; she wasn't even acknowledging her superior. "Do you read Shakespeare, Miss Malfoy?" McGonagall asked gently, and Neville thought he heard a hint of hope etched in her words.

The question seemed to have woken Graces up to the situation, because she was then staring up at the light witch with a scared look in her eyes. "No, of course not," she murmured, obviously trying to seem convincing.

"Liar," Neville muttered under his breath, causing both women to look over at him.

"I'm not lying!" Graces shrieked, sending a dark look over to the boy beside her, before looking up at her professor again. "It was obvious that what he did was some sort of insult so I reacted."

"You ARE lying," Neville declared venomously. "Luna and I heard you speaking the quotes the other day. Luna said you must read a lot of his work, because those were all from different books."

Graces' face drained of all color, and she looked as though she would vomit. She raised one of her hands to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, and Neville noticed it was trembling slightly. Graces soon realized this as well and immediately dropped her hand down. She then looked up at her Transfiguration professor, "Please, please don't tell anyone. Please, you can take my badge, take house points, give me detention, expel me, but please don't tell anyone." Graces' voice was so heavy and thick it cracked almost on every other word.

"I won't tell a soul, Miss Malfoy." The older woman vowed, looking pityingly on the girl before her, wanting to tell her that she understood and knew what it was like to have to hide a part of yourself from the world you reside in, but knowing the young Slytherin would just turn away from such comfort. "I have to punish you for your actions towards Mr. Longbottom though, so you will both be serving detention with me tonight, but I won't tell anyone your secret." Graces closed her eyes in relief and swallowed down a sob. "You may go, Miss Malfoy, but I expect to see you after dinner."

Graces nodded and didn't even glance at Neville before she left. He stood there watching her and felt a deep sinking in his stomach. He didn't understand why Graces had reacted like this, but he had a feeling he made a grave mistake. One that could seriously cost him his chances with her.

"Follow me, Longbottom." Professor McGonagall ordered dangerously, walking towards her office. Neville followed, the sinking feeling becoming worse as he realized his head of house seemed too mad to even glance at him. As soon as they entered the room she turned on him. "Tell me, Neville, do you hate the Malfoys so much that you would ruin that girl's whole life?"

"Wh-what? I... I don't... what?" The sandy-haired boy did not even know what to make of that statement.

"I understand that they and their family has put you through a lot, but to try and ruin that girl's life over it is—"

"I am not trying to ruin Graces' life!" Neville interrupted making his head of house fall silent. "I would never hurt Graces, at least not on purpose! I have no idea what you are talking about."

Professor McGonagall surveyed the boy in front of her. "Then tell me, Neville, why you would do something as damaging to her as this if you didn't want her life in shambles."

"SO she reads a muggle book and I wanted her to admit it!" Neville cried in frustration. "How does that equate to wanting to ruin her life? She just was giving me a hard time yesterday for reading it and I wanted her to admit that she did too. I don't want her life destroyed, how could you even think that?"

Minerva sighed and slumped into her chair, raising her hand to her head as though she were soothing a headache. After a moment she sat up and indicated for Neville to take a seat in the chair across from her.

"You're a pureblood, right Neville?" Neville nodded. "Surely you know how other pureblood families work."

Neville flushed for a moment, "Gran and I don't really socialize with purebloods, most of them are dark and Gran doesn't want anything to do with dark witches or wizards. She knows the Weasleys and a few other light pureblooded families, but no I don't know all the social feelings of the pureblood community because I was raised to believe blood didn't matter. Culture matters to gran and I know courtesies and traditions, but nothing else really."

The professor stood up and began speaking as though she were in a classroom. "In the strict pureblood society Miss Malfoy lives in, the news of her reading anything from muggle culture and enjoying it would ruin her. No suitable man or woman would marry her. It would be considered a great scandal. Her peers would abandon her, her inheritance would possibly be stripped, and she would be cast out from all of the pureblood high society functions. That is all the best outcome if her family doesn't disown her. She will be viewed as the Weasleys and you are viewed, as blood traitors and muggle sympathizers. That may not seem like a big deal to you, who has family and friends that all support the same things and live in a house that celebrates such titles, but for her it would be awful. Imagine for a moment her own brother treating her the way that he treats Mr. Weasley."

Neville felt as though he was going to be sick. "Oh Gods, what have I done," he moaned, cradling his head in his hands. "I didn't know, I thought maybe people would be mad, but never... she's going to hate me."

McGonagall frowned at the statement. She knew the Malfoys. She was aware of their belief system and even how they raised their children. Graces should have hated Neville on principle alone before the ministry ordeal, which she suspected was just the icing on the cauldron cake. "You don't think that she hated you already? You did aid in getting her father sent to Azkaban."

Neville stilled, realizing that once again he was giving away too much. He looked up into his professor's suspicious face, and said the only thing he could think of. "She dislikes me greatly, but she doesn't hate me. The Malfoys hate Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They just think of me as an annoying dog they enjoy kicking once in awhile, but now..."

Neville was relieved to see that she bought his lie, and stood silent the rest of the time while she lectured him about his "appalling/negligent" behavior. He hadn't heard a word, though. The entire time he was just thinking of what he would say to Graces when they met again tonight for detention.

****Don't forget to review/follow! Next chapter is Higgs! In case you all didn't know Higgs is my own character too. He is the younger cousin of Terence Higgs; he was briefly mentioned in the first book as the Slytherin seeker. This is important later.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a small chapter, but I really hope you all enjoy it. I think it gives some more insight to Thomas' character.
> 
> ~Timeline! ~
> 
> 1st week of September
> 
> Chapter one- When Neville was just curious about Graces.
> 
> 3rd week of September
> 
> Chapter two, three, and four.
> 
> Chapter three was Neville and Graces encounter in the Greenhouse.
> 
> 4th week of September
> 
> Chapter five, six, seven, and eight.
> 
> 5th week of September
> 
> Chapter nine and ten and eleven 12 13
> 
> 1st week of October
> 
> Chapter 14, 15,16,

Chapter 16

Thomas was very aware of everything that went on around him. Not because of any particular interest in everyone's life, but because he had to be. His family had chosen to keep out of the war, but that didn't mean that they were closing their eyes to everything that was going on with it. Luckily for his family, Thomas saw and heard more than most. People tended to ignore younger years. Especially ones like him who were so quiet. He was so quiet that often he was missed entering a room or listening closely at a nearby table, but he was there and he noticed and heard everything. He noticed that the Malfoys seemed more on edge, as though they both were constantly expecting an attack. He noticed the way Nott watched Graces like lion stalking a deer. And he noticed that Neville Longbottom seemed to have an interest in Graces as well.

He had originally thought that Longbottom was just pining hopelessly after a girl far out of his league, in stature and beauty, but after the display today he wasn't sure what was going on. He did know one thing, though; Graces read those muggle books and Longbottom knew. He saw the way she had reacted when he had said, "Don't read Shakespeare, huh?" No one else heard in the hall, but he did. And he knew who Shakespeare was after Pansy came in still raving about how far the Longbottom family has fallen when their heir read Shakespeare. Graces at the time had laughed along with her and made the usual snide comments about Longbottom, but her reaction in the hall had given her away. Now that he thought about it though, Graces was always reading some book or other in a corner along the grounds, but never in the main room with everyone else.

He recalled that once in the common room Pansy had asked what she was reading, but Graces had just laughed and insisted it was nothing good. She then had proceeded to flatter Pansy on her new earrings. Gushing over how she was so lucky to pull off yellow goblin gold, and that she wished her skin wasn't so pasty. He now saw it all for what it was, a distraction. Graces read muggle books, and Longbottom knew.

He was aware that he should feel differently now for the girl. That he should consider her a blood traitor now. That she threatened his culture and should be exposed, but he just couldn't get his heart to feel that way. Even when he was in the hall, and had just realized what Graces had done, he couldn't bear the thought of her being cast out and ruined in their society, forever to be thought of as a blood traitor. How could he want that for the girl that had been his salvation? He remembered how nervous he had been as a first year. He knew that people were going to make fun of him. He knew that he was going to embarrass his family when he opened his mouth, revealing their deep, dark secret: that their son was incapable of normal speech. He had even thought he was prepared for it. But when the sorting feast was over and he entered the Slytherin dorm for the first time with all his new housemates, he realized how so unprepared he was.

At first he just stood quietly with the rest of the first years, but then the socializing had started. An older girl had been speaking to him, asking him if he knew his schedule, etc, etc. He was able to get by in the beginning with shaking his head yes or no, but then she had asked him what his name was.

"T-T-Thomas H-hi-higgs." The room had fallen completely silent. All the house was looking at him like one would look at a disgusting dish. A tall boy in the back had smiled maliciously at him, and had begun to open his mouth to make the first of a series of insults. Thomas remembered the feeling of dread pooling in his stomach so high it was seeping up into his chest, and then, before the insult was rounded out, someone called through the crowd.

"Thomas Higgs!" A shrill voice rang. There was such excitement in the way the name was exclaimed that everyone looked over to the pretty blonde girl pushing through the onlookers. That was the very first time he had ever seen Graces Malfoy in person. She was rushing towards him as though she had known him his whole life, before he could question anything she had brought him into a grand embrace. An embrace that made the whole room think that he was familiar with her. "Oh, Thomas, it's been so long! I hardly recognized you, darling! Look how big you are! Oh, you're going to drive all the girls here mad when you're older." She then turned breathlessly to the blonde boy sitting in a chair, two other boys on each shoulder, and exclaimed loudly. "Draco, dear, did you see Higgs? Look how big he's gotten!"

Draco had smiled at his sister, before getting up and shaking his hand. "Good to see you again, Thomas. How is your father doing?"

It was all so surreal. In reality Graces and Draco had never met him once in their lives, and their families were by no means close. Yet, here they were pretending they knew him intimately enough to be affectionate with him and using his given name to save him."H-he's w-w-w-ell."

"Glad to hear it," Draco nodded, a little half smile playing at his lips. "Why don't you come sit with Graces and I? We must catch up." He let the pair of them guide him over to a couch where they could sit in mock intimacy for show, but speak privately.

Graces had taken one of his hands in both of hers and was smiling at him warmly; while Draco sat back and watched his sister. "Higgs, no one here will make fun of you now. In here you can always speak without any worry of what people will think of you, but when you are not with Slytherins you have to be careful." She was staring so urgently into his eyes that he couldn't have moved away if he wanted. He remembered that she had such urgency in her voice, as though it were just as important to her that he succeeded as it was to him."I'm going to make sure you make it through Hogwarts, Higgs."

"W-why?"

Graces just smiled at first, and Thomas, who never believed in angels, was all of the sudden convinced that the being in front of him had to be one or at least the closest thing to one. "Because you are one of us, Thomas. You're a Slytherin, and I believe in taking care of our own," Graces declared softly, her eyes boring into his. "You're powerful, Higgs, I can feel it. It would be a shame for a powerful wizard like yourself to not live up to his potential because he was made to feel inferior."

Graces had been his salvation here at the school. She saved him from his peers and taught him how to behave so that no one would know his flaws. If anyone in his house was stupid enough to make a comment about his speech impediment, she attacked, tearing them up in front of the rest of the house, pointing out his assailant's every flaw and even at some points ripping their good qualities out from under them. She was like Devil's Snare, maintaining a bone crushing hold of her victim while she dragged their reputation through the dirt.

That's why when he realized what was going on earlier in the hall he put up the silencing charm. He wanted to protect her, she had after all protected him so many times. Even when he realized what she was, he couldn't bring himself to leave her side. He was going to help keep her secrets to protect her, just as she had done for him. And it wasn't because he felt he owed her that, he was doing it because he loved her for it.

"Thomas." He looked up from his book to see Graces sitting across from his desk in the library, he was so consumed with his own thoughts he hadn't realized she came in. He watched her from across the old wood, taking in her appearance. She had an unreadable expression on her face. It wasn't like any others he had seen on her before. She looked nervous, unconfident, but at the same time proud. He honestly couldn't tell what she was, but she seemed to be trying to decide something about him. He waited patiently, he was not going to speak at the table. He never spoke anywhere outside the dorms, Graces had told him to never speak in public. Even in classrooms he never answered a question. The teachers never asked him anything either. Graces had gone to Professor Snape and told him of the situation with his speech. She had convinced the man to tell all the teachers that Thomas was mute and to not bring attention to it. He learned non-verbal magic under Snape's supervision, at Graces demand, and now never needed to speak in public. Occasionally, when he knew without a doubt no one would hear him, he would speak in public, but in the library where people could be behind shelves he wasn't willing to take the risk.

"I wanted to thank you for earlier, Thomas. That was really... thank you." Graces seemed to be at a loss for words. Thomas had never seen Graces like this before. She was so human now, no longer a deity he could never reach. In the last few hours he saw more of her than he ever had before. She was vulnerable, frightened, and not at all perfect. He thought the realization would destroy his image of her, she would no longer be the picture of perfection he always saw her as, but it didn't. Instead it added to her. She still, with all her fears and vulnerability, did what she could for the more vulnerable in their house. "I wanted to well... I feel we should discuss what—" Thomas didn't let Graces finish. Standing up he took her right hand in his and lightly kissed her palm, before taking both of her hands in his and kneeling to the floor on bended knee. He stayed there touching his forehead to her knuckles, trying his best to appear like more of an adult than he was. He was aware it was a very old gesture, but he didn't want to use words to tell Graces how he felt of her. His words were awful, but this told her everything without words. He pledged his devotion and unfaltering loyalty to her on no other basis than he admired the person she was.

"Your family is neutral, though," Graces whispered in disbelief. Thomas continued to keep his head bowed at her knuckles. He wasn't pledging his allegiance to the Dark Lord, he was pledging it to Graces, the girl that had made it possible for him to be something more than an embarrassment to his family. Also, since he wasn't the heir it would just be his own devotion to her, his family had nothing to do with it. "Thank you, Thomas."

He then stood slowly and went back to his desk taking back up his book not wanting the conversation to go on any further. He wanted the subject of Graces' trespasses against their culture dead and he wanted them both to forget all this nonsense. I especially want to forget what she had done. He felt her gently kiss his cheek, causing him to blush crimson despite of himself, before leaving him be.


	17. Chapter 17

Graces listened to the irritating Gryffindor professor prattle on and on about why her and Longbottom's behavior was unacceptable.

"You two will think about your behavior tonight as you transfigure these mice back into buttons, and stop rolling your eyes, Miss Malfoy. You should count yourself lucky that I did not involve your head of house." Graces briefly looked up at the tight-lipped woman for a moment before continuing to stare blankly forward. Professor McGonagall sighed, clearly exasperated, and headed towards the door. "I shall be back to check on the progress you two make for tonight."

"For tonight?" Graces questioned, turning around, now all of the sudden attentive.

"Yes, Miss Malfoy, for tonight," Professor McGonagall snapped as she strolled out of the room. "If not enough mice are transfigured I will be having you and Mr. Longbottom return until I appreciate the result. And I expect there to be no fighting while I am gone," she added before yanking the door shut as she departed.

With a low growl, the Slytherin girl whipped her wand out, and began to transfigure what looked like a button with three small paws and a tale. She had just accomplished getting the paws to disappear, and was furrowing her brow in concentration. She was trying violently to make the tail disappear as well, when she heard the very person she wanted to ignore.

"I'm sorry," Neville said quietly, his voice swimming with regret. "I... I didn't know."

The blonde just stood still for a moment letting the words wash over her. He was sorry? He didn't know? Well, that didn't change much of anything did it? He almost ruined her life. He walked away from her when she was trying to talk to him, and then ignored her in class. He gave her, Graces Bellatrix Malfoy, the silent treatment. And no, it wasn't the same when she did it to him. It was different. Very different. AND, to top all that off, he knew about her interests and he used them against her. It was something she would have never suspected from him. From other people yes, but not from him. That was probably what had angered her the most.

Angered? Or hurt?

She continued to work on the damn tail until it was finally gone. Then she moved onto a fully formed mouse, ignoring that Neville moved to stand beside her. "Graces, please. I am so sorry. I was just angry with you. You're not the easiest person, surely you realize that. It wasn't about Parkinson, or anything like that. I hated that you looked in my eyes and lied to me. After everything that happened between us you still couldn't even be open with me when we were alone." Graces continued to ignore Neville, picking up her finished button and dropping it in the box on the other side of him as though he were not there.

Neville sighed heavily. "I read the book because I thought you would have read it, and I wanted something to talk to you about that interested you," he confessed quietly, feeling defeated.

Graces stilled. He read the book for her? Nott would have never done that, even if it wasn't a muggle book. She couldn't even get her to take her to a concert if he didn't listen to the artist. Often times he would buy her a ticket, and then buy a spare one for Pansy or Draco, but he never actively tried to join her interests. Neville had read a whole book; a book she was sure he had to get help understanding. She felt her heart give an excited jump, and then she felt a whole new rage set on herself.

"Why on earth would you read that book for me!" She shrieked, no longer ignoring the boy beside her. Neville started a bit, and then frowned as though that was an insane question.

"You like it. I thought you would enjoy having someone to talk to about them."

Graces wanted to scream at how casually Neville said it all. Like taking interests in muggle books for a girl you're sleeping with was the most obvious thing in the world to do.

The blonde emitted a sound that was between a growl and a scream. "You're not supposed to do that kind of stuff for me! This is just about shagging. You don't have to do anything except fuck me! No talking. No reading books I may like. No trying to understand me. Nothing at all like that! All you have to do is make sure I'm satisfied in bed. Thats it! Why can't you just do that, and that alone?!"

Neville closed his eyes for a moment and prayed to any deity that was listening for patience. "Not to sound rude or vulgar, but," Graces just stared at the boy before her. She watched as his cheeks began to grow more scarlet and she could tell that what he was going to say next was quite a bit more embarrassing for Neville to say. "I want something more than just a way to get off. I can do that fine on my own. I'm sure you and your wand can take care of that as well... My point is I'm not saying let's be Romeo and Juliet and be absurdly in love or anything. I'm just asking to be—"

"Romeo and Juliet were not in love," Graces scoffed, rolling her eyes in disgust. Neville frowned unsure of what to say.

"Ummm... I don't think we read the same book."

"Didn't we?" Graces asked coldly, moving so that she was nose to nose with Neville. "A 17 year-old boy goes to a party because he fancies a girl named Rosalyn, and is hoping to get into her knickers before she becomes a nun. Instead, at the party, he gets distracted when he spots a thirteen year old girl who he finds to be more attractive. And then -BOOM- he decides that he is in love with this new girl. This new girl, Juliet, is promised to a man that she doesn't want to marry and, as I would imagine any thirteen year old girl to be, flattered by the attractive man that is now trying to win her affections. So, without even a decent conversation, Juliet decides she is in love as well. I think she was more in love with the thought of having a choice in the matter of who she would be spreading her legs for. Romeo and Juliet then in their infinite rationality decide to get married just a few days later! So then they are married, finally able to shag, when they get separated. Both adolescents proceed to have mental breakdowns and die. Not giving a single fuck about their family. Never once thinking of the pain they were causing. They didn't die for love, they died for lust." Graces spat the last words with so much conviction that she surprised herself. She paused for a moment in thought before looking up at Neville who was watching her with hesitation. "And I'm smarter than Juliet," she whispered turning away from Neville, and walking over to the box of half transfigured buttons. "I know better than to throw away my whole life for a good romp. Whatever is going on between us has to stop."

"What?" Neville whispered. "You can't be serious."

"You and I obviously want different things out of this, and—"

"That's a load of rubbish," Neville snapped, "Don't you dare put this all on me. If you just wanted sex you would go to some bloke that your parents and brother would approve of. You could just screw Zabini if thats all you wanted. At least be honest with me now."

Graces took a few steadying breaths, "It doesn't matter the reasons why now." Graces said quietly. "I can't allow myself to trust you." Neville opened his mouth to argue. "It doesn't matter what you say, Longbottom, I can't trust you. I already am uneasy around you because you have so much over me. The dagger, the night terrors, the books and music I like." Graces waved her hand around idly instead of saying the rest. She looked miserable as though the world was beginning to weigh down on her. "Today frightened me. Today could have hurt Draco."

Neville made to take Graces hand, but she moved away. The Gryffindor sighed. "Graces, look at me." Neville took a breath. "Today I royally fucked up, and I know it. I swear it will not happen again. Please, I just want us to at least be friends. The times when you have your guard down and we are together are amazing. Even you can't deny we have fun. This will not happen again, I understand how secretive we have to be now."

"It doesn't matter," Graces sniffed, shaking her head. "I just want to have an escape from my hell. I want to get a good nights rest without needing a damn potion. I can't have either of those though now, because you want me to open up. You want us to talk, be friends, and I can't do that with you. I can't let myself trust you. Its too much for you to ask me. What if I do what you want, and we continue, and then it ends badly? You could tell everyone in this school things about me Pansy and my brother don't even know."

"I would never—"

"I would!" Graces declared.

"I'm not you," Neville stressed, trying hard to convey to the girl in front of him that this was not an issue.

"I just can't take that chance, Longbottom. The person to be hurt more out of any sort of relationship with you is Draco, and I won't allow that. I'm sorry, but this has to end."

"Do you want this to end?" Neville asked, trying to ignore the dread he was feeling welling up in his chest.

Graces closed her eyes for a moment before she turned and started working on another mouse. "It doesn't matter what I want," She breathed, so quietly Neville had to strain to hear her. "This has to end."

Graces prayed that Neville would just let this go. That he wouldn't pester her any longer about the subject. But, when he actually turned away and began working, she just got a horrible knot in her throat, a knot that hurt whenever she swallowed, and a terrible feeling was growing through her chest.

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Neville clambered up to the Gryffindor boys' dormitory exhausted, but not from the work he had been doing, he was just mentally run down. Part of him missed his simple life, the one where he kept to himself and didn't go chasing after girls like Graces Malfoy. And yet another part of him felt more alive and happy than he had ever been ever before in his life. It was an odd feeling. He wasn't one for excitement really. He didn't enjoy mystery or crazy adventures, but he did enjoy Graces. Even on her bad days he enjoyed fighting with her, because he still had this feeling she was something worth fighting for. Now, all he needed was a way to show her that he wasn't going to expose her if she gave him the privilege of knowing her.

He entered his room to see that the rest of his dormmates were all still up playing exploding snaps and wizard's chess on the floor of the room, their beds surrounding them.

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed excitedly, abandoning his chess match with Harry. "I heard you and Malfoy had a row today in the hall!"

Harry, Dean, and Seamus all turned their heads towards him. It suddenly occurred to Neville that they may have all been waiting for him to come in for the night to ask about this. He felt his heart race at the attention, and nervously ran his hand through his hair.

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that!" Dean laughed. "Well come on, Nev, don't keep us waiting. What happened?"

"I was rude, and she shoved me," Neville dismissed with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You were rude?" Seamus asked skeptically.

Neville just nodded and began getting ready for bed, his mind still thinking of what to do to get Graces to try again.

"You're never rude," Harry pointed out, his voice an octave higher in surprise.

"Well," Neville began slowly, "today I was rude."

"What did you do? What does Neville Longbottom do to be rude?" Ron asked, making a joke of the situation.

"I am capable of being rude," Neville sighed, very much regretting his actions. While at the same time realizing how little his friends knew of him.

"I've never seen you be rude," Ron stated stubbornly.

"Today, I was rude." Neville maintained, pulling his nightshirt over his head, trying to prevent himself from letting out a frustrated growl.

"Were you staring?" Seamus asked, packing up the playing cards.

"Staring?" Neville repeated confused.

Seamus reddened a bit. "Uh, you know.. Ogling her or whatnot. She once hexed me when she caught me looking. It was at the Yule Ball, and she was wearing that black dress. The one that had a slit up the side showing her leg."

"Why were you looking at Malfoy?" Ron cringed, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Are you blind?" Dean exclaimed, looking at Ron with great surprise. "She's bloody gorgeous. How can you not look at her?"

"Because she's an evil, wicked witch," Ron muttered venomously, looking at all his friends as though they had all betrayed him.

"I wouldn't mind her doing some wicked things to me, mate," Seamus smiled, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making Neville's blood boil. "I mean, I'm not saying that I want to spend a moment talking to the girl. She's vile when she opens her mouth, but I could think of other things to do that would put that mouth to good use for a change."

"Will you shut up!" Neville snapped, causing all three other boys to look over at him. "You think she's vile when she opens her mouth? You should hear yourself."

"Woah," Dean said, putting his hands up defensively. "Someone is a bit touchy when it comes to Malfoy. Fancy her or something, Nev?"

"No way," Harry exclaimed. "Neville isn't into Malfoy, he has a thing for Abbott."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "They went on a date the other week. How is that going, Nev?"

Neville flushed, and moved nervously from foot to foot. "Uh.. well, it isn't."

"What?" Dean asked looking sympathetically up at his friend. "Did she break it off?"

"Uh... well no, but I well.. I want to. I didn't think I had to though, because it was just one date, but people seem to think we're an item so I'm going to have a talk with her."

"You better hurry on that, mate," Ron said slowly. "I mean, girls can get really upset over things like that."

"I know," Neville groaned. "It was only one date though, and it didn't even go that well."

"I heard you kissed," Harry said frowning.

"Hermione really needs to learn to keep her mouth shut," Neville muttered darkly, looking up at the ceiling. "She kissed me and I didn't want to... well, offend."

"I'm glad I'm not you," Seamus laughed, getting up and heading over to his bed.

"Says the boy that is currently snogging no one," Neville chided with a wicked smile.

"Hey! Totally uncalled for, mate!"

"He's right," said Ron smiling widely. "At least Neville here is snogging someone."

"I'm not snogging anyone," Harry broke in, offended.

"Yeah, but you kissed Cho last year.. AND.. you're the chosen one. You could snog all the girls in the school if you chose to." Harry thought for a moment before nodding his head and smiling. "See, so Seamus here is the only one that is currently not snogging anyone," Ron stated matter of factly.

Dean laughed exuberantly over this until Seamus glowered at him. "Well, at least I'm not currently snogging my roomies baby sister."

"OI OI OI!" Ron bellowed, covering his ears and shaking his head as though he could shake what he heard out of his head. "I don't want to hear that!"

"Despite what you want, it's happening," Neville reminded, enjoying the sight of his friend turning a sickly shade of green.

"Didn't you kiss Ginny 4th year?" Harry called over to Neville, a not so innocent smirk on his face.

The sandy haired boy sent Harry the darkest glare he could muster, until Ron eventually caught on.

"You kissed my sister too!"

Neville pinked and looked up at the ceiling."Umm..." He ducked as a pillow came shooting towards him.

"OI! I only kissed her once, and it was totally innocent! Dean over there is the one snogging her senseless any chance he gets!" Dean sent Neville a look before Ron sent over another pillow to hit him.

"You suck, Nev," Dean pouted, pulling feathers out of his hair.

"Yes, well I'm not sucking Ginny Weasley's face and sleeping next to her brother," Neville teased smiling. "I would sleep with one eye open, mate."

Dean shrugged his shoulders as though to say 'it was worth it' and quickly closed his curtains before Ron could throw something harder than a pillow at him.

"No one else in this room better kiss my sister," Ron proclaimed. "And, Nev, you're a great friend, but you better never be trying to kiss my sister again."

"I prefer blondes anyways," Neville smiled, turning towards his own bed.

"Hannah's blonde," Harry commented.

Neville rolled his eyes. "Yes, well I like other things as well. Blonde isn't the only thing I care about."

"Yeah, or he really might be into Malfoy," Seamus added. "She's as blonde as they get."

"Luna is blonde," Ron piped in.

"She's," Neville paused, "like a sister."

"She's not your sister though," Dean said frowning, while emerging a tentative head from his curtains.

Ron nodded in agreement.

"I know what he means," Harry murmured thinking of Hermione. "Wouldn't feel right and all. Right, Nev? You think of her as your sister, therefore she is."

"Yeah, exactly."

"Yeah, that's how I feel about Hermione," Harry related, heading to his own bed.

"You think of Hermione as your sister?" Ron asked frowning.

"Don't you?"

Ron pinked a bit. "Uh... no. Definitely not."

"You look at Hermione?" Dean questioned, his eyebrows raised.

Ron reddened so much he was almost purple. "What! No, of course not! I mean.. I'm with Lavender... and, well it's Hermione and no. Of course not."

"Methinks thou dost protest too much," Dean quoted with a wide grin.

"Careful, Dean," Ron warned, narrowing his eyes. "I still haven't forgiven you yet."

Dean's eyes widened and he disappeared once again behind his curtains. Everyone in the room laughed for a good five minutes before deciding to call it a night.

Neville couldn't help but smile a little as he made his way over to his own bed. He entertained himself for a bit imagining how Seamus would react if he knew what he had done multiple times with Graces.

He spent the rest of the night lying in bed until a solution to his problem finally came. Neville laid in the dark for a few minutes thinking over his idea. It could very well still not work. He thought, turning over his plan in his mind. Well it's still worth a shot, I suppose. Its not like she can do anything with it if there is no cause.


	18. Chapter 18

"What do you mean you're missing practice!"

"Exactly what I said, Draco," Graces said through gritted teeth with forced patience. "I have detention, and will be missing practice tonight."

"We have a game coming up! You can't miss practice! Go talk to Snape," the Slytherin commanded. "See if he can get the Gryffindor bat to let you come in another night."

"Draco," Graces growled, "I do not want to involve Snape. I have detention. You can live without me for one practice."

Draco stood flabbergasted for a moment, completely unbelieving that his sister could just dismiss a practice like this. When he realized that she was indeed not going to do a thing to even try and make the practice tonight, Draco stamped away from her with an irritated huff.

"He's in a mood today," Pansy mused, straightening her tie before they headed out.

"Tell me about it," Graces sighed.

"Why do you have detention again?"

"Longbottom and I didn't finish transfiguring all the mice back."

"You mean Longbottom didn't transfigure enough," Pansy giggled. "Let me guess, he tried the whole time to just transfigure one button back, and you ended up doing most of the work."

Graces chuckled awkwardly at the joke and followed Pansy out to the Great Hall. The rest of the day was much like any other. She listened to her friends prattle on and on about mundane things she didn't care for. She went to her classes, performed her prefect duties, and then snuck away to her room to study before her detention. Her day was just gray. That was the best way to describe it. There was nothing that she looked forward to anymore. She just felt hollow, which was stupid, because her and Longbottom didn't even break up. They were never an item to begin with. She only slept with him a few times, and it wasn't as though she actually fancied him or anything.

You're sure upset over the loss of someone you don't fancy.

Graces shook her head of such morbid thoughts, and began to write out her paper on one of the many Goblin wars. After an hour and a half of writing about Urg the Unclean, she decided she should pack up and head over to detention. Sighing heavily, she opened her rucksack to throw in her ink well when she saw a small, silver box laying at the bottom, a box that she was sure she had not put in there. Graces didn't dare touch it, not knowing who had given it to her. She stood up from the desk so she could better look around her area; wondering if the person who had left the box was still around.

Why on earth would they still be around? Clearly, they did not want you to see them.

The blonde stood still for a few moments, standing in the library, as if on the edge of a cliff. She took a small step towards her bag when she heard her father's steady voice sound from somewhere in her head. Never open a gift, Graces, if you do not know whom the sender is.

Graces worried her lip, thinking of her father's warning. He was right. There could be countless horrid curses placed on a gift. Deciding to just be cautious, she took out her wand and levitated the box up. It looked harmless enough, but her father had also driven it in her brain that looks could often be deceiving. She checked the box over for any nasty spells. She must have muttered a million different diagnostics, but nothing came back. Tentatively, she reached out and let the tip of her fingers touch the box. She waited for something to happen: her heart to stop beating, her body to feel as though it were being tortured, anything at all really. After a few moments of nothing, though, she reached out and removed the lid from the box.

A stunning, antique-looking pendent laid inside. Graces used the tip of her wand to lift it up slowly by its long chain. She watched it dangle in the firelight made by the torches, admiring the teardrop pendant made of white goblin gold that was etched with runes. There was a small window of glass on the front that displayed a green and gold looking substance shimmering around, like diamond dust shimmering around in a pool of water. It was beautiful. With all of the jewelry she owned she still couldn't help but admire how beautiful this piece was. And it hummed with magic, old magic. She wondered what it was, and if it was safe. She looked down at the box for more clues, and noticed that at the bottom was a note.

Graces,

I realize what I am asking is a lot. Even if you choose to continue to end this, that necklace will ensure that I will never betray you.. I don't want you living the rest of your life worrying that I will one day tell someone about you. It basically allows you complete access into my head in the event of my betrayal. All of my thoughts, memories, knowledge, everything would be at your disposal. You would have complete access to my mind until the day I die. Not one of your secrets could be exposed without me exposing all of mine to you.

Graces, if you still want this to end, I will respect that, but don't end it because you feel you can't trust me. Anything you tell me in confidence would be secured by that pendent. Trust, I know, does not come easily to you, I am hoping that this will help. Please, give me one more chance.

N.L.

Graces leaned against the back of her chair and took a deep breath. Well, this was unexpected.

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"How nice of you to join us, Miss Malfoy," Professor Mcgonagall quipped as Graces entered the room.

"Sorry," Graces muttered, taking the desk in front of Neville, pointedly not looking at him.

"Five points from Slytherin for being five minutes late to detention. Now, I expect you and Mr. Longbottom to finish today, or you will be back in here tomorrow. I'll keep the both of you for as long as I have to. You should have been able to finish yesterday," Mcgonagall scolded. "What you two were doing is beyond me. Do you understand?"

The two students nodded solemnly as their transfigurations professor left the room. Neville watched Graces in front of him for a moment, wondering if the girl would be turning around to talk to him, but she didn't. She just worked diligently on the assignment before her. Neville felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach, but left it alone. Graces had a choice in this matter, a choice that he wanted to give her, and he was not going to push for something that she didn't want.

He had tried. He comforted himself with the knowledge that at least she had security with the necklace. He hoped it would possibly allow her to think fondly of her time with him. Instead of worrying that he was going to expose her at any moment, she could think of the good times she had with him. She could live out her days with no fear of him, and that, to Neville, was a comfort. Graces already had so many things on her plate, and Neville did not want the thought of him telling people about her or what they had done plaguing her.

The room continued in it's silence for the most part; at one point Graces started humming a slow tune. Neville paused for a moment, listening to it. The tune moved lazily through his head as her sweet voice carried it through the room to drift around in a hushed tranquility. It reminded Neville of being home with the gentle morning light streaming through the kitchen window, as homely smells filled the air. He wondered if it was a muggle tune. He knew some muggle music, but not a lot, having grown up in the wizarding world. He longed to ask her what it was, but he remained silent continuing to transfigure the mice as though he didn't hear her at all.

At the end of the hour Professor Mcgonagall came in and inspected their work. Neville couldn't see Graces face, but judging by his head of house's pinched expression, he imagined that Graces was giving her a very bored look.

"I expect that I will not have to see you two in this room again?" The Professor asked sourly, looking at both students. Neville nodded his head respectfully, while Graces just lifted her eyes up and gave the Professor an impatient stare. "You two are dismissed," the elderly Gryffindor sighed, no longer wanting to deal with the attitude of a teenage Malfoy.

Graces swept out of the room and disappeared before Neville even pocketed his wand. Neville spent a few moments regaining himself in the classroom before dragging his feet toward Gryffindor Tower. It was an awful feeling to know it was all over, to never have the opportunity to discover what could have been between Graces and himself.

Probably nothing would have come of it anyways, he thought pessimistically, pulling his curtains back and flopped onto his bed, not even bothering to look at where he was falling, or rather what he was falling on, which was definitely a mistake, considering that the moment his back hit the bed, he felt something struggle beneath him, digging something sharp into his back. Neville gasped in surprise, and jumped up, entangling in himself in his curtains, ending with him falling with a loud thud to the floor.

He fought the curtains off himself and looked up to see Graces' owl screeching at him repeatedly, swiping his talons at his face any time he tried to stand up.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Neville exclaimed, throwing his hands up defensively. "How was I supposed to know you were there?"

Loki gave another last swipe at Neville's arm, which caused a rather deep scratch, before he went back to the bed, still glaring at him. Neville cursed, and moved to get his wand to mend the scratch, but the bird made a lunging movement towards him and he took it as a sign he had better not dare attempt to do so.

"You're a nasty piece of work, aren't you?" Neville muttered, standing to his feet. As he stood, he heard the dorm door open and Harry came in.

"I heard some noise. Is everything alright?" Harry's eyes widened at Neville's arm. "Neville, what happened!"

Neville continued holding his arm, and motioned his chin grudgingly towards the bed where the owl was.

"Is that Malfoy's owl?"

"Yeah..." Neville said through gritted teeth. "Evil little thing."

"Well, look at the owners," Harry pointed out offhandedly. "What did it deliver?"

Neville looked down at his bed and saw a package with a letter. He hesitated not wanting to open it in front of Harry, but decided that it would look more suspicious if he hid it. It looked like Graces was going back to pretending nothing was happening with them, so it must be like the last letter where she merely wanted to set up a time for potions.

He opened the package first, and the title "Potions for Beginners" gleamed up at him in gold letters from the cover of the green book. Despite what Neville knew, he was still disappointed. With a heavy heart he opened the letter.

Longbottom,

I expect you to have read this by tomorrow. I will see you at seven sharp.

Regards,

G. Malfoy

"Well, what is it?" Harry asked. Neville handed him the letter and held up the book for him to see. "She's a piece of work isn't she? Giving you a first year's book and all."

"Yeah..." Neville murmured hollowly, taking back the note.

"Tough luck, Nev. You should have asked for something else for your life debt, like for her and her bother to stop being such evil snakes or something." Neville gave Harry a small smile that in no way reached his eyes. "Well, I better leave you to reading that book if she is only giving you a day to read it," Harry mumbled awkwardly, feeling like he should leave the room.

Neville nodded and watched Harry and the bird leave, before taking a seat on his bed and opening the book. But "Potions for Beginners" was not what he saw on the inside cover. Instead, he stared down at the title "Hamlet" by William Shakespeare; and right to the left of the title, on the inside cover of the book, was familiar handwriting.

"Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice."-Hamlet

Don't make me regret this, Longbottom.


	19. Chapter 19

Neville stepped into the silent classroom once again. It was odd how this room was beginning to feel to him; it made him nervous and excited all at once. Each time he entered this room he had no idea what he should be expecting. Granted, often times it was far from what he would have wanted, but today, for the first time ever, he felt like his meeting with Graces was going to be wonderful. He looked to the front of the room to see Graces staring hesitantly at him.

"I really liked the book," Neville began, nervously pulling the object out of his bag and walking towards the girl. "It was a lot better than Romeo and Juliet, in my opinion. I really liked that one quote.. umm.. 'Brevity is the source of wit.'" Graces nodded solemnly, and Neville, unsure of what to make of the nod, continued. "I can see why you particularly would like it: revenge, corruption, questions of morality, of death." Neville was now standing so that he was directly in front of Graces. Her back was pressed hard against the desk as though she wanted to escape from him, but refused to move. He continued to look at her, willing her to say something, but she didn't. She just stood against the desk. "One quote in particular reminded me of you though."

"Oh?" Graces was trying to sound casual, but her voice broke at the simple phrase.

"'God hath given you once face, and you make yourself another.'"

"'One may smile, and smile, and be a villain,'" Graces said breathlessly, as she turned her face away from him. Neville watched as her throat moved and she swallowed the emotions she must have been holding.

"Do you think I'm a villain?" Neville asked quietly.

Graces didn't answer, but her body began trembling. Neville, bent down so that he was now the one looking up at her silver gleaming eyes. "It can't easy, pretending to be someone you're not."

"Maybe this is who I am," the blonde said tightly, making to move away, but being stopped by Neville's hand taking hers.

"I don't believe I have seen half of who you are," Neville surmised, now standing tall again, but still clinging to the Graces hand. "And I don't believe anyone else has seen even that. Please Graces, let me know you. If not for me, that at least for yourself. Don't you want someone in this world to know who you are?"

There was a brief pause as Graces seemed to be actually turning Neville's words in her head. As Neville held on to her hand, he began to have this gleam of hope that Graces would let her guard down and accept what he was offering, but as quickly as the hope came, Graces whipped it and her hand away.

"Draco knows who I am," she proclaimed defiantly. "Draco knows me."

Neville held up the book. "He knows about this and the music?"

Graces' face pinked, and her eyes moved around nervously. "I think he knows... he just chooses to ignore it," she admitted quietly, no longer meeting Neville's eyes.

"I won't turn away, Graces," Neville promised, stepping closer to her, gently grasping her shoulders. "I won't ignore anything about you to make you more appealing, because I truly want to know you."

Neville could tell it was taking Graces a great amount of effort to not run away at that very moment. He could feel her body trembling in protest to his touch, and see the immense amount of fear that she had in her eyes as she looked up into his. "I'm not good at this," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"At being seen?" Neville asked, caressing her face, before moving his hands down and wrapping them securely around her. Graces nodded and closed her eyes at the touch, clearly not ready to let her guard down yet. "I know it's scary, but just try."

He felt Graces bring her hand up to the middle of her torso and clutch something there. Neville had a feeling it was the necklace he gave her. "I can't betray you without betraying myself... and my friends," Neville added, still a bit unsettled. " Should I ever betray you, you would learn everything I knew about Harry and Ron."

"I would?" Graces questioned, now taking the necklace out and looking down at it.

"Yeah," Neville sighed, "You would. I almost didn't give it to you for just that reason."

"What made you give it to me, then?" Graces asked frowning, still clutching the necklace tightly in her hands.

"I know I will never betray you," Neville vowed, trying to put as much conviction as he could muster in that one word.

Graces stood quiet for a long while after that; Neville tried to remain as still as possible afraid that any movement might scare her away. There was tangible tension in the room. Everything was hanging in the air around them. If Graces just made a slight effort to let her walls down it could open the gates of heaven, but if in this moment she chose not to, Neville knew she never would and he would forever be cemented just right outside.

"I am going to be a Death Eater."

Neville ignored the sick feeling that welled in his chest at Graces' statement. She said it as such a fact that he had a feeling that this was something that was already decided, something that was already in the process of becoming true.

"I figured as much," he said, trying hard to sound as though the thought of her bowing to that man did not make him want to be sick.

"Then why—"

"Because you are so much more than a pawn that is being played by a psychopath, and I can remember that."

"You can remember that after I slaughter your friends?" Graces asked, moving away from Neville, her face showing her own bitterness. "You can think of me as you do now, with the knowledge that I was the one that ripped them away from you? Or even when my own wand is pointed at you? No one else's life holds more meaning to me than Draco's. I would kill you without a moments hesitation if it meant my brother's heart would beat with life for an hour longer."

There would have been a time where Graces' proclamation would have done exactly what she wanted it to do. Make him think she was nothing more than an evil, vile girl, or frighten him into leaving her alone, but Neville knew that Graces was telling him all this to frighten him. This was her way to try and wake him up from whatever delusion he might have of her. Neville knew that there was some truth in what she was saying, but not in all of it. While she would be willing to kill for Draco, he doubted it would come so easily for her. The whole time she ranted he saw her hands were shaking and he had a feeling that it was not from the rage she was trying to present to him.

"Will you cry at my funeral, Miss Malfoy?" Neville asked, smiling, reminding the girl in front of him of their first night together in the greenhouse when he had asked that very same question.

Graces stared at him for a moment, and Neville saw her barriers slowly come down.

"This is mad." Neville felt as though he were standing on the edge of a cliff about to fall, waiting for Graces to say more. "I'm still not your girlfriend, but I suppose we can try at a friendship. Not a normal friendship though," she added quickly. "It's still mostly about sex, and we're only friends in private. When we are out in front of people, I hate you. No one can know, Longbottom, do you understand?"

Neville couldn't even hide his excitement. He grinned broadly, and before Graces could start listing off more rules of their relationship, he lifted her up and was kissing her. Graces let out a small eep of surprise, before demanding to be put down.

Neville, still grinning widely, obliged, setting Graces down softly on the stone steps. "Gryffindors," she muttered, rolling her eyes and patting off imaginary dust. "Can never contain yourselves, can you? No self control."

"Yes, it is one of our most charming qualities." Graces gave him a glare, and turned away towards the desk, but Neville still caught the small smile she hid.

"Is Hamlet your favorite?" Neville asked, walking over to where Graces was pulling supplies out of her bag.

"No, not my favorite," Graces said, taking out her cauldron and setting it down on the fire. Neville stood, looking at her, waiting for her to elaborate. "I suppose I like a A Midsummer Night's Dream."

"What's that one about?"

"Longbottom," Graces growled, "we do have to work on potions today. I have barely taught you anything as it is."

"We can talk and work at the same time," Neville shrugged, taking out his parchment and quill.

"No, we really can't. You're awful at this, so you need to concentrate." Graces gave Neville a scolding look. "We're making a boil potion today."

Neville narrowed his eyes at Graces for a moment. "You're kidding me." Graces just smirked as she took out dried nettles, snake fangs, and horned slugs.

"Do you remember what the last ingredient is, Mr. Longbottom?" she asked sweetly.

"Porcupine quills," Neville deadpanned sorely, remembering the last time he had made the potion.

"Exactly," Graces chimed smiling, "and when do we add the porcupine quills?"

"After the cauldron is taken off the fire."

"Very good," Graces praised, her voice sounding like overly sweet honey. "And what happens, Mr. Longbottom, if the brewer should add the quills before taking the cauldron off the fire? Oh, Longbottom, don't look so piqued with me. I'm trying to help."

Neville huffed and closed his eyes; trying hard not to look as humiliated as he felt. "The cauldron will melt, and the potion will explode, causing anyone who comes into contact with it to have very painful boils. It also smells awful."

"Perfect!" Graces cried, actually jumping with excitement at his answer.

"Enjoying my humility, are you?" Neville asked impassively, as Graces took out the quills.

She smiled, but ignored the question. "And what, Mr. Longbottom, are the characteristics of the potion when brewed correctly?"

Neville frowned for a moment. "Uh... I... I don't know..."

"Exactly, because you have only brewed this potion incorrectly," Graces chided. "Today you are going to brew it correctly, and you will tell me after it is brewed what you noticed about it's characteristics."

Neville nodded and began to work on the potion. "This is a first year potion."

"I am aware," Graces said. "That isn't a fine enough powder, Longbottom, the fangs need to be crushed more with the pestle."

Neville nodded and continued crushing the snake fangs. "You're starting me on first year's work?"

"It's not to humiliate you," Graces promised, examining the powder more before nodding at Neville to continue on to the next part. "While you botching this potion remains, to this day, one of the funniest things I have ever witnessed, I am not making you redo this to bring up sore memories for you. It's so that you can see where you go wrong. Potions takes a lot of patience and preciseness. It's an art, you Gryffindors are much too impatient for it most of the time. For example, right now you should be paying close attention to your cauldron and not to me. The instructions say heat to 250 for ten seconds. TEN seconds, Longbottom. No more, no less. Your potion is about to reach 250 so pay attention before you miss the time slot."

Neville did as she said, and waved his wand muttering the stabilizing incantation exactly ten seconds after the potion reached 250. "It says to wait 33 to 45 minutes now," Neville read, checking his watch. Graces nodded and looked down at the greenish potion.

"Great, during that time you should detail everything that you have done so far; along with everything you notice about the potion."

Neville nodded and began dictating out loud his description of the potion thus far."It's bubbling and is green....like a bogey."

"You sound like Draco," Graces giggled. "He said the same thing to me first year when we made this potion. He had me giggling all through class."

"And here I thought you two were just giggling at me being tortured by Snape," Neville smiled.

"Well, that too," Graces admitted offhandedly.

"It's odd hearing you talk about your brother," Neville said shyly. "Like, I see why you talk about him so much, but it's hard to hear about him being this warm kind person, when he's usually the biggest—"

"Careful, Longbottom," Graces chided, a playful smile on her lips. "We're edging on a friendship here, but if you say something rude about my brother, I'll be forced to kill you."

The Gryffindor chuckled at the threat. "Your brother is a git." Neville jumped as a Graces sent a stinging hex on him, but still couldn't help but laugh. Even Graces seemed to find the situation amusing judging by the small smile on her lips.

"Draco isn't a git. He's a very different person in private, and I couldn't have asked for a more devoted brother."

"He does seem to watch you like hawk," Neville commented, thinking of how many times he had seen Draco look over at Graces during the day. It was as though he felt if he didn't keep an eye on her something dreadful would happen. "It's a bit odd, Ron is a protective brother, but he seems to give Ginny more space than Draco gives you."

"Draco was raised differently," Graces said simply. "While Ron was raised as just a son, Draco was raised to be the heir to our family. Part of being an heir, as you know I am sure, is taking care of your family. I think my parents used me as a tool to teach him that. I, from the day we were born, have been Draco's responsibility, as well as my parents'."

"How does that work?" Neville asked frowning.

"Oh, simple things at first," Graces mused. She then grinned and began imitating, what Neville assumed to be her father's voice. "'Watch your sister, Draco,' 'Hold your sister's hand, Draco,' 'Don't let her out of your sight, Draco,' 'Draco, you shouldn't have let her do that,' 'Don't be so rough when playing.' As we got older it became more serious. My father would tell him about how as the heir he was responsible for me. That it would be his job to ensure I was always taken care of. "

"That sounds awful," Neville frowned.

"Oh, Draco loved it. He always liked acting like a big boy and telling me what to do, but not in a super bossy way. He's always been a loving brother. I was his to take care of, his living, breathing doll. He would fly under me when we got our first brooms incase I fell, and would always hold his arm out for me when our parents had banquets, never leaving my side. You should have seen him when I started dating!" Graces exclaimed. "For the first year I was with Nott he insisted on chaperoning anytime we were together!"

"And you didn't throw a fit over that?"

"No of course not," Graces said laughing. "I love Draco. He just wants what's best for me, and I love spending time with him."

Neville just chuckled. "Well, I am glad he isn't chaperoning you nowadays."

"Are you now, Mr. Longbottom?" Graces asked, moving closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. Neville nodded as he felt a familiar heat start to spread through him. Graces moved her hands to his chest, and began running them up so that she was now hanging on his neck, pulling him down so he was close to her delicious mouth. "And why would you be glad about that?"

"So I can kiss you," Neville murmured, before pulling Graces into him and doing just that. Neville loved kissing the girl in his arms, his whole body seemed to come alive from just touching his lips to hers, and the sounds she made were enough to drive everything else out of his head. He groaned loudly in protest when she gently pushed him away and reminded him they had a potion to finish. He grudgingly released his hold on Graces, and continued to add the horned slugs and removed the cauldron off the fire. Graces then handed him the two quills which he tossed in half heartedly, before he started stirring.

"STOP! You're left handed." Neville frowned and nodded, still not motioning to do anything more with the potion. "No wonder you mess up so often. You're about to stir counter clockwise, you have to stir clockwise. If the potion doesn't specify counter clockwise then it is assumed you will stir clockwise, but you're left handed so you just read stir five times and don't even think about it."

"You know, Hermione and Snape have seen me do potions before and none of them have ever explained that to me. I don't even know if Hermione knows it matters. She's right handed, so she never has to think twice about it, I suppose."

"Snape should have noticed," Graces frowned, watching Neville finish the potion correctly. "He's your teacher and he watches you like a hawk in class. He should have seen why you were making the mistake. You assumed it just meant stir when it gave no direction and, being left handed, you stirred in the direction that was comfortable. He should have caught that first year."

Neville was about to make a nasty comment about Snape, but stopped himself. People tended to love their head of house. He wouldn't allow anyone to say anything awful about McGonagall, and he imagined Graces wouldn't want anything said about Snape.

"Maybe you're a better teacher."

He was relieved to see Graces smile at the comment and not go defensive. "I am. Snape is a true potions master, he is brilliant, but he isn't big on teaching unless the student is as passionate as himself. Now, what do you notice about the potion when done correctly?"

Neville looked down into the cauldron. "It's blue and there is pink smoke."

"Gold star for you, Mr. Longbottom. That is how you brew a boil potion correctly."

They both smiled at eachother for a moment, before Graces cleared her throat awkwardly and turned to pack everything up. "I should go now, Draco will be waiting for me."

Neville nodded and helped her clear the table. "Thanks again, for tutoring me and all," he said pulling his bag onto his shoulders.

Graces shrugged. "You're not supposed to thank me for a life debt, Longbottom."

Neville shrugged, and started walking with Graces to the door. "You can call me Neville, you know."

Graces flushed, and played with the strap of her bag. "I prefer Longbottom."

"But we are friends now, aren't we?" Neville asked, pausing at the door.

"I guess," Graces admitted, continuing not to meet Neville's eyes. "I don't know. Not yet I guess, but I am willing to try to be. Even then we're only friends in private though. It's not like with Blaise and Pansy... Higgs and I are friends, and I still barely use his given name. It's a bit too intimate for me I suppose."

Neville nodded, not wanting to push Graces too much. "Oh!" he exclaimed, going back in his bag and pulling out the book. "I should give this back to you now that I've finished."

"Oh," Graces blushed, and gently pushed the book away from her "It's yours... I, umm, got it for you... That's why I was late to detention; I was waiting for Loki to deliver it..."

"I see," Neville surmised, a bit shocked that Graces went to all that trouble. "Thank you."

Graces nodded passively. "It's nothing."

Neville frowned. "It's not nothing, Graces, it's—"

"It's not like the necklace you gave me," she interrupted, looking down, her hand going to the spot where the trinket was lying under her blouse. "I really appreciate that you did that," she said softly. "It's lovely too. I... I can't even imagine how you afforded it."

"Family heirloom," Neville shrugged. "No one has worn it in ages. It's supposed to be used for alliances, but I figured I'd like you to have it."

When she looked up Neville was smiling tenderly at her; she felt her cheeks flush and wished that he would stop. "I need to go, I'll see you in Herbology." She moved to go to the door, but before she could exit Neville had pulled her back and was gently kissing her. He lingered for a moment, his lips hovering near hers while she stared up into his hazel eyes.

"Tomorrow then. Goodnight, Graces." And with that he whisked out of the room before Graces could say anything to ruin the moment. He could tell that she was starting to retreat away from him, that the intimacy was getting to be too much for her Malfoyness to tolerate. So when he decided to kiss her softly, in a more romantic than carnal way, he knew that he should book it out of that room as fast as possible before Graces said/did anything to ruin it.


	20. Chapter 20

"I think you shouldn't get involved," Ron muttered, as Hermione sat down in the common room and looked up the stairs leading to the boys dorms.

"I'm not getting involved," Hermione snipped agitatedly. "I'm just reminding Neville that he should talk to Hannah. It's been over a week, and Neville hasn't said anything to her."

"'Mione," Ron groaned, "Just let it rest. He's going to. Neville's a good bloke, he just doesn't want to hurt her feelings."

"And it was only one date," Harry added. "Why does he have to say anything at all. He doesn't fancy her, its obvious. Hannah will eventually realize."

"He must fancy her a bit though, he did kiss her," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

Ron and Harry both exchanged looks behind their friend, each boy remembering the conversation with Neville the other night.

"I believe Nev mentioned that Hannah kissed him," Ron said sheepishly, not at all liking to talk about his friend's private life.

Harry nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it really sounds like he doesn't at all fancy her."

"Yeah," Ron scoffed, "it sounds like he has more of a thing for Malfoy then it does Hannah."

"What do you mean?" Hermione questioned, turning around and glaring at the two boys in front of her. "Why would you think he likes Malfoy?"

"It was just a joke," Ron said rolling his eyes. "Just leave Neville alone. He seems really happy this morning, which is a nice change."

Harry groaned and elbowed Ron hard in his side. Ron at first didn't realize what he had done to deserve such treatment, but then he saw Hermione's face.

"Why has Neville been unhappy lately?"

"We don't know," Harry sighed. "Maybe Malfoy is giving him a hard time with tutoring. She sent him a book for beginners the other day. Honestly, 'Mione, we don't know, but today he seemed really happy. He was even humming in the shower."

"Why didn't you ask?"

"Neville's a pretty private person," Ron shrugged. "He really isn't the sort to talk about himself much, and we just figured if he wanted to tell us he would."

"Maybe—"

"Hermione," Ron wined, "leave the poor bloke be. Now can we please go to breakfast?"

Hermione looked as though she were about to continue arguing when Neville started to stroll down from the stairs. Both other members of the trio groaned loudly as she started towards him.

"Neville, can I talk to you?"

"Yeah!" Neville exclaimed enthusiastically. "I actually wanted to talk to you too about something. Do you think you could recommend me more muggle books? Like ones other than Shakespeare. Not that I don't like the ones by him, I just was thinking that some more variety may be nice and—Oh! I forgot to tell you, I read Hamlet the other day, and—"

"You read Hamlet?" Hermione asked surprised.

"Yeah, I did. It was really great," Neville smiled, "Much better than Romeo and Juliet in my opinion. Not that it wasn't good," he added, worried he might have offended Hermione. "Anyways, could you recommend me more muggle books?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione said, a bit daunted by Neville's demeanor.

"Great!" Neville cheered, clearly excited over Hermione's promise. Hermione just continued looking at her friend. Neville seemed so different to her now. She was used to soft-spoken, shy Neville, but not this. Neville on occasion could be this exuberant, like when he got a new plant or during games, but there was always a reason. "Ummm... you wanted to talk to me about something?" Neville reminded, growing increasingly nervous the longer Hermione was staring at him like that.

"Oh! Umm yes, I'm sorry I was distracted by... uh, nevermind. Anyways, I wanted to talk to you about Hannah."

"Oh," Neville sighed, deflating at once from his good mood.

"I really think you need to talk to her, Neville. It has been over a week now, and she really has no idea."

Neville blushed and rubbed the back of his neck as he stared up at the ceiling. "Okay, I'll talk to her," he murmured, still avoiding Hermione's gaze.

"This morning," Hermione added for him.

"'Mione!" Ron exclaimed, deciding to no longer just listen in on the conversation. "Why does it have to be this morning?"

"Because," Hermione stressed, giving her friend the dirtiest of glares. "It's been long enough, and Hannah should know as soon as possible. The poor girl shouldn't have to go through another day of obsessing over whether or not Neville here is going to ask her out. You know she's been going over every aspect of their date, wondering if she did something wrong? She's even going over their kiss, she thinks that maybe she was a lousy—"

"Hermione!" Neville interjected, not at all liking that his and Hannah's personal life was being exposed.

The bushy haired girl blushed, but nodded in agreement.

"I'll talk to her," Neville promised, his hands playing with the strap on his rucksack as he looked to the side.

"Good," Hermione nodded, "Though I don't understand why you waited so long, Neville. You could have told her the night of your date, or anytime after that."

"'Mione," Ron scolded, "Will you let off him? He said he would talk to her."

"I'm just saying, for future reference," Hermione said defensively, turning back to Neville. "It's not that I'm mad at you or anything, Nev. I just think that you handled this wrong."

"It was one date!" Ron exclaimed, putting a friendly arm around Neville. "Why should Neville have to say anything at all? Merlin's pants, Hermione!"

"It's fine," Neville sighed, not wanting Ron and Hermione to be in yet another fight. "I'll talk to her. I'm going down to breakfast."

Neville hurried out of the common room before Hermione or anyone else in the trio could walk out with him. He knew that he needed to talk to Hannah, Hermione had done a brilliant job of pointing it out, but it was still something he dreaded. Hannah was his friend, and though he didn't want to be with her like that, he also didn't want to have an awkward discussion with her on the reasons why.

Maybe she won't ask any questions, Neville prayed, turning on the staircase and entering the Great Hall. Hannah was eating her breakfast with Susan. He saw her look up at him when he entered, but he quickly looked away and headed towards the Gryffindor table. Oh Merlin, I'm such a coward.

More out of habit than anything else, Neville looked over to the Slytherin table. To his surprise Graces was looking over at him, and if he wasn't mistaken she actually looked concerned. She was frowning slightly, and her face had this certain amount of tenderness to it that he usually never saw her display in public. Neville raised his hand slightly on the table, in a subtle wave and offered her a small smile. Graces coyly looked around the table, making sure everyone was distracted by something else, before she returned a brief little half smile.

It was more than Neville had ever received from her before when he smiled at her in public, and he probably would have enjoyed the moment more if he didn't see Hannah over at the Hufflepuff table from the corner of his eye. Neville tried to distract himself with a piece of toast and marmalade, but no matter how long he chewed the toast he it took ages to go down his throat and seemed heavy in his stomach. Still, he attempted to eat his breakfast before continuing with the day, it wasn't until Hannah smiled over at him that he dropped the toast dejectedly on his plate.

Deciding that there was no better time than the present to talk to her, he rose from the table and headed over towards her. The gleam on Hannah's face sent snakes in his stomach as he approached her.

"Hey, Nev!" she called, as Susan Bones giggled next to her, making Neville flush even more.

"Hey." Neville could barely stand to look at Hannah, but he gave her a wry smile. "Listen, Hannah, could we ummm talk?" He looked over at Susan for a moment before meeting Hannah's eyes. "Privately."

Hannah's green eyes immediately lost their luster while her face fell as she took in the weight of Neville's words. "Yes, of course," she whispered, glancing at her friend a moment before standing up. Susan gave her a sympathetic look which Hannah turned away from, clearly embarrassed.

Neville decided to wait until they were outside of the castle to speak. He wondered if there was a proper way of doing this. I should have asked Hermione, he thought sullenly.

"Listen, Hannah, you know I think you're a wonderful girl, and I really enjoy your company, but—" Neville stopped mid-sentence as he heard a cross between a choke and a sob from Hannah. Her face was screwed up and unruly tears were already starting to fall from her eyes. Neville closed his eyes for a moment, unsure of what to do. "I'm so sorry, Hannah," he apologized solemnly, which caused the girl before him to begin crying more freely into her hands.

Unsure of what to do, but not willing to do nothing, he gently pulled his friend into his chest letting her weep against his robes. "I don't understand," she cried into him, her voice muffled by his clothes. "I thought everything was going so well."

Neville swallowed hard and ran, soothing circles into Hannah's back. "You are a wonderful friend, Hannah, and bloody gorgeous too, but I just am unable to think of you in that way."

"But...but maybe if we went on a few more dates you could," Hannah suggested, looking up at Neville hopefully. Neville's heart clenched as he looked into his friend's puffy eyes, but he knew that he couldn't give her what she must have read his answer on his face, because she broke down again and whimpered as she clutched him tightly to her.

"I'm so sorry, Hannah. I truly am, I feel horrid about all of this."

"You-you didn't give me a ch-chance," Hannah wailed, as she tore away from her friend.

Neville didn't even argue her point; which caused Hannah's tears to turn to tears of rage. "You didn't even try! We only went on one date, and you were distracted the whole time! You didn't even try!"

"Hannah," Neville said carefully ,"wouldn't you rather be with someone that doesn't need to try to see you that way? Wouldn't you rather be fancied and chased by a bloke? Have someone who is mad for you, that can't get you out of their head even for a moment?"

Hannah collapsed in on herself in another fit of sobs, before turning around and hugging her middle, as though if she couldn't see Neville then he wouldn't see her heart break. Students were starting to emerge from the castle all unable to stop themselves from glancing over at Neville and Hannah. Neville moved to shield Hannah from their offensive stares.

"I wanted you to be that bloke," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

"I know you did,"Neville sighed morosely, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Hannah turned away from him, and headed towards the greenhouse. Neville waited for her to enter the class before he started over. The moment he entered the greenhouse he wanted to hide. Everyone was looking over at him and whispering. He looked over to see Hannah talking to Hermione looking as though she was on the brink of breaking down and crying inconsolably at any moment. The other girl nodded her head and held her hand sympathetically as Hannah continued to confide in her.

Neville turned away from the scene and went over to his desk where Graces was staring contemptuously at the scene before them, her face not hiding her condemnation.

"Don't stare," Neville said, taking his seat.

"I'll do whatever I like, Longbottom," Graces said coldly. "She's being pathetic."

"She's heartbroken," Neville defended.

"There's no excuse for showing such weakness in public," Graces scoffed, finally turning away from the scene as Professor Sprout walked in and headed over to Hannah, clearly worried about one of her students. "She's an embarrassment."

"Don't act like you never cry," Neville said under his breathe, so no one could hear.

"I don't cry in public. Crying is acceptable when you are alone, but that is the only time and place for it." Graces looked over her shoulder to see Professor Sprout leading Hannah out of the class, gently holding her across her shoulders in a motherly manner. "I would not allow for a boy to turn me into a blubbering fool. Especially one that didn't hold such feelings for me."

Neville sighed, realizing that this was not a game he was going to win. Today just isn't my day. He looked around and made sure no one was listening before subtly leaning in towards Graces. "Please, Graces, just don't. I get that I can't ask you to be nice to Hannah, heaven forbid, but please at least for today don't be cruel."

Graces didn't respond, Neville supposed he didn't expect her to, instead she continued to meticulously set up the desk to her liking. Two quills to the left, tools lined at the top of the desk, parchment in front of her, previous class notes to her right, ink well to the-

"Why is your inkwell in the middle of the desk?" Neville asked confused. "You always put it in the upper right corner of your parchment."

"It's not always there," Graces argued, reaching in her bag for her herbology book.

"Yes, it is. Two quills to the left, tools lined at the top of the desk, parchment in front of you, previous class notes to her right, ink well to the right of the paper in front of you," Neville stressed slowly, " and your herbology book in the upper left hand corner; after you open it to the chapter the class is on. And that is without mentioning that you space everything evenly apart."

Neville blushed as Graces stood gaping up at him, a look of pure shock on her face. "How—you can't—I mean—" The Slytherin seemed to realize she was babbling, and blushed a violent red before regaining control of herself. "Longbottom, how is it that you consistently can forget to bring your inkwell to class, but you can remember how I order my desk?"

It was now Neville's turn to blush. "Repetition?" he offered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Packing your inkwell should be repetition," Graces muttered irritatedly.

"I did pack it today," Neville chimed, taking out his inkwell and placing it in front of him.

"Oh," Graces muttered quietly. Neville frowned at Graces response, she seemed, well, upset. Why would she look upset about me remembering my inkwell.

"I decided to just keep two in my bag. That way when I lose one I will have the other and I felt bad that I was always knocking your arm or hand when we go to dip our quills. Though, I suppose I am always knocking your arm when I write, you started taking the left side of the desk. Which is odd, you used to take the right. Not that I mind, it's fine if you prefer the left, it's just as you know I'm left handed and you're right so it leaves us elbow to elbow the whole period. I just figured with you not liking to be touched that you would—"

Neville suddenly realized why Graces took that side and why she seemed disappointed by him remembering his inkwell. His face must have shown that he figured it out, because when he looked over at Graces her cheeks had turned bright red.

"You—"

"I can move," Graces interrupted heatedly, moving to get her things.

"No!" Neville exclaimed, reaching out and holding her arm preventing her from moving her stuff. "No, please don't it's fine."

"No, you're right," Graces clipped, tearing her arm away and moving to set her thing to the right. "It would be best if I was on the right."

Neville watched as Graces began fumbling with her herbology tools. He knew she was upset, he was unsure if she was just embarrassed that he had realized she liked being near him or if she was mad about it. Either way, he knew she was building up those walls of her's. I guess I'll have to knock them down.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Graces could feel the heat from her cheeks spreading to the back of her neck. She had never been so embarrassed. No, embarrassed isn't the right word, she was mortified.

I'm so pathetic. Merlin, he must think—

Wait. Why do I care what he thinks? I shouldn't, this is all so stupid. I'm so stupid. Stupid. Stupid Stupid. Stu—

"I like touching you too," Neville whispered in her ear. Graces flushed even more at his hot breath caressed her neck.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Graces mumbled taking a step away.

That didn't deter the Gryffindor though, instead he moved with her. "I really do," Neville continued, bending his head down so no one could hear him. "I look forward to days where Professor Sprout has us do book work, just so I can have your arm touching mine the whole time."

Graces chanced a glance up, and immediately regretted it. Neville was so handsome, it was easy sometimes to ignore it, but not when his face was bent so near to hers, his jaw firm and his eyes alive with determination.

"Also, considering the arrangement we have, I would rather you enjoyed touching me," Neville paused for a moment and Graces watched as a blush began to creep along his neck to his cheeks. "And... erm... I certainly don't mind you touching me in areas other than my arm," he whispered.

Graces couldn't help, but note that his voice seemed much more husky at his last confession and even through his blush he seemed to be looking at her like... like—

Like he wants to take you right here on this table.

Graces swallowed hard and tried to rid her mind of the images that were now floating through her head, images that were definitely having an effect on her.

She awkwardly cleared her throat and began placing her things back to where she wanted them. Neville went back to his side of the desk and Graces watched from the corner of her eye as he placed the inkwell back into his bag, a small smile on his lips as he did so. When Professor Sprout reappeared with Hannah trailing along behind her, the blond's eyes puffy and red from crying. Graces watched as the smile disappeared from Neville's face and she hated Hannah in that moment. She forced herself to look away from the Hufflepuff and faced the front of the room, patiently waiting for Professor Sprout to begin.

"Today we are going to prune Fanged Geraniums. I know that you all have worked with them last year, and some of you are a bit nervous to be around the plant again." Professor Sprout glanced over at Graces for a moment, clearly remembering when her fanged Geranium almost tore her throat out last year. Luckily, Pansy had moved Graces right before the plant got a hold of her neck. " Remember to be cautious in your movements around the plant, and to be careful with what you are removing from the shoots. Pruning allows your plant to direct its energy into blooming more beautifully and maintaining healthy shoots. It is also vital if you want to have healthy buds. I will be going around to see all of your work."

Graces reached out for her notes on pruning and her shears; she was about to head over to her and Neville's plant when she realized Professor Sprout was in front of her desk looking at her. The plump woman seemed uncomfortable, which to Graces seemed odd.

"Miss Malfoy," Professor Sprout started cautiously, clearly still unsure of what she was about to say.

"Professor Sprout," Graces greeted, not bothering to hide the suspicion in her voice.

"I realize that you are not the most... talented herbology student in the class." Graces felt her cheeks warm and glared at the woman before her. "Not that you don't try," Professor Sprout added quickly, "or that you don't understand the material. I think it could be argued that you almost understand the material as well as Mr. Longbottom here, but the fact remains that—"

"Plants want to kill me," Graces interjected coldly, "Go on."

The head of Hufflepuff blinked a few times, still clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. "Yes, well, anyways, I just felt that I should remind you that in order for me to pass you in this course you need to be able to prune a Fanged Geranium; as well as a Venomous Tentacula."

"What?! She can't!" Graces turned to see Neville staring at the Herbology Professor as though she were insane. "Professor, those plants could kill her. They will try to kill her. She can't prune them. Do you not remember what happened last year with the Fanged Geranium? Or this year with the Devil's Snare? I've never seen plants react so violently towards someone. No, she can't do it."

Professor Sprout was completely taken aback by her favorite student's behavior, she stared at the boy in front of her unsure of how to explain that her hands were tied on the matter, but Graces got to it first.

"That won't be a problem, Professor," Graces declared, not even looking at Neville.

"Gra—Malfoy, I don't think—"

"It doesn't matter what you think, Longbottom," Graces drawled, "You are not my teacher."

"No, but I'm—"

"AND I am sure Professor Sprout does not appreciate you telling her how to run her class," Graces added, giving Neville a scolding look.

Neville looked over at Graces with the most despondent of looks. The blond girl just glared at him though, angry that he was being so obvious about his concern for her.

"You'll be hurt," he emphasized, looking imploringly at her. "You could be severely hurt."

"That is not something you should be concerning yourself with," Graces replied coldly, turning away and heading to the plant. She was in the middle of the room when she felt Neville grab her arm.

"Don't touch the dome," Neville pleaded slowly. "Don't do a thing to that plant, Malfoy. I'm serious."

"Fuck off," Graces gritted, wrenching her arm away.

"Just wait," Neville continued, ignoring how she was glaring at him. "You shouldn't be working without me anyways, so just wait."

"Maybe you didn't understand me the first time, Longbottom," Graces sneered, "but I said fuck off."

"It's her own funeral, Nev," Ernie called over, as Graces headed towards the plant. "If Malfoy wants to get herself killed, let her."

"Malfoy!" Neville called, pretending that Ernie did not just make a comment about his, well, about Graces. "Isn't self-preservation a Slytherin trait?"

Graces paused at the glass dome encasing the plant, the plant that was already lunging against the glass towards her, and—to Neville's great relief—turned, folding her arms. "You had better hurry, Longbottom."

Graces watched with a cold glare as Neville scurried over to Professor Sprout, and though she would never in a million years admit it out loud, she thought it absolutely adorable when he fell over two stools rushing over to the Professor. Deciding that she did not need to be staring over at Neville, she started organizing the work station. She was just examining her pruning shears when a looming shadow distracted her. For a moment she thought Neville had returned, but when she looked over Hannah was standing beside her looking the other way. Graces continued to darkly glare at her, and she was sure Hannah noticed despite the fact she hadn't once looked at her, because the blonde fidgeted with her braids and seemed to shift from foot to foot. Graces scowled at the foolish girl, and was about to make a scathing comment, when she remembered what Neville asked earlier.

He asked me not to be cruel, that isn't a huge sacrifice on my part. I'll just ignore her. Graces closed her eyes and let out an inward sigh before going back to examining her sheers. Finally, deciding they were sharp enough, she started reviewing her notes.

"What are they talking about?" the hufflepuff wondered aloud.

Graces placed her notes down and turned to see Neville heatedly arguing with Professor Sprout. Both girls stared in awe as the usually shy boy quarreled animatedly with his favorite Professor. Graces was so glad that everyone around was in too much shock with Neville's behavior to notice her. Because she was sure if anyone was looking at her they would see how obviously turned on she was. Neville was standing tall, for once, his face stern and ascetic as he continued to point his finger down demandingly at the ground and then towards Graces. Making it obvious to the room that the argument was about her, though no one could hear what was being said. One of them must have put a silencing charm around them.

Neville had just finished what seemed to be a very long rant, a rant that Graces was sure was going to earn him a detention or at least a harsh scolding, but to her surprise Professor Sprout put a motherly hand on his shoulder instead. Graces wished she could hear what it was the Professor was saying, it seemed that she was apologizing, and being very nice about it, but Neville just seemed more upset though he didn't say anymore. The sandy haired boy gave her a brief nod and started walking towards the work station.

"I—I have to go," Hannah said shakily, and turning towards Graces, "Will you just give this to Neville?"

Graces eyed the piece of parchment warily, debating if she would take it.

"Please, Malfoy, just hand it to him."

"He's almost here, you could just—"

"I can't," Hannah interrupted impatiently, as she wiped the newly born tears from her eyes. "Please, Malfoy, just hand it to him."

Graces groaned, but held out her hand for the note. Hannah left just before Neville arrived at the desk, he was still frowning, but his face softened a bit as he watched Hannah walk away.

"What happened there?"

Graces shrugged and flinged the note to Neville. "For some reason she wanted me to give you that note."

"And you actually took it to give to me?"

"Obviously," Graces drawled rolling her eyes.

She watched as Neville looked over to where Hannah was, it was clear that he did not want to read whatever the note said, but he took in a deep breath and unfolded the piece of parchment.

"Should you be doing that?"

"Doing what?" Neville muttered, reading the note.

"Just opening a note from a girl you have hurt, she might have cursed it."

"Hannah wouldn't do that."

"You never know."

Neville looked over the piece of parchment at Graces for a moment, before continuing on reading. Graces stood there awkwardly, not sure why she was standing there like a lost puppy and not doing her own work. Because you want to know what that note says.

"Right," Neville concluded, pocketing the parchment and turning to the plant at the desk. "Stand by me, the whole time, and don't even move towards the plant without me telling you to, okay?"

"You seem mad," Graces commented. Not moving or liking the fact that Neville shared no detail on the letter with her, and that he was being so bossy towards her.

"I am mad," Neville affirmed, sharpening his sheers. "Now, will you come here so I can show you how to prune this plant?"

Graces moved slowly over to him, unsure of how to react to this new side of him. Sure, Neville had been mad at her before, but this was very different. He wasn't mad at her, he was mad at someone else on her behalf. It was odd.

"You shouldn't be mad at Professor Sprout," Graces commented. "She can't do anything about it. It's the curriculum. Her hands are tied."

"When did curriculums become more important than students' lives?" Neville asked bitterly.

"Forever and a day ago," Graces shrugged. "It's part of living in this world; dealing with dangerous magical things. We get to be magical, but we are put in dangerous situations in order to teach us. My father feels it is a good reminder of responsibility and respect. He would give Draco and I dangerous items all the time to teach us early on to respect magic and be responsible with it. He also wanted to prevent us from being frightened of it. Something muggle raised children are not exposed to. My point is don't be upset with Professor Sprout over this. I was well aware of what I was going to do in this class."

"It's not right," Neville maintained, clearly not ready to let go of his anger.

"'Fair is foul, and foul is fair,'" Graces recited, a little smirk playing in the corner of her lips.

Neville frowned at the riddle, but decided the more pressing thing to focus on was the project. With a heavy sigh he admitted that they better get started. Graces watched as he cautiously started to lift the glass dome covering the Fanged Geranium. "Don't move," he ordered as the dome was almost off.

Graces raised an assessing eyebrow at Neville's assertiveness, but did as she was told. In truth she sort of liked this take-charge, angry Neville. He's sexy when he is mad. I wonder if he knows that? Graces thought idly, as she waited for the rest of Neville's instructions. He had just finished taking the dome completely off when one of the Geraniums shot out towards Graces neck. Before Graces could react though, Neville had her wrapped in his arms, exposing his own back to the plant.

"Are you okay?" Neville asked, staring down at her, one of his hands checking her neck for any marks.

"Yeah, I'm fine, " Graces assured, taking in a deep breath and moving away.

"I told her you couldn't do this," Neville fumed, "that the plants are abnormally aggressive to you. This is a mistake, I'm going to go talk to her again."

"Longbottom."

"I mean, you could have been killed, If that plant tore your jugular out then—

"Longbottom."

"—you would be dead! It's outrageous for her to ask you to do this, Well, I'm not going to—"

"LONGBOTTOM!" Graces shouted, gaining the sandy haired boys attention. "The plant, why didn't it bite you?"

Neville frowned for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "They're used to me, I'm around them all the time. It's really rare that any of the plants in here attack me. I helped Professor Sprout grow these Fanged Geranium, so it's really rare that they will feel threatened by me and attack. You don't bite the hand that feeds you sort of thing."

"They don't have eyes though, they attack my scent, so that means they know your scent," Graces elaborated, becoming more excited as she began to think up a plan.

"Yeah," Neville agreed, confused to as to why this was making Graces so excited.

"Don't you see?" Neville shook his head impatiently, just wanting Graces to get to the point. "If we can mask my scent to be like yours I should be able to prune the plant without any problems! I'll pass the class, and we can continue this for the other plants as well, so I can be more useful in the practical part!"

The sandy haired boy didn't answer, instead he was just smiling down at Graces fondly.

Graces scowled, "What?"

"Nothing," Neville lied, "would you mind going in my rucksack and getting my spare shirt? I'll stay with the plant, I don't really want to leave you alone with it."

Graces nodded and went over to Neville's bag. She opened the bag, and was about to accio the shirt to herself, but then stopped. I wonder what he keeps in his bag. Graces turned to make sure Neville wasn't watching, before peering inside the magically charmed bag. Immediately she was disappointed. Neville's bag was mostly filled with books, old inkwells, broken quills, and crumbled up parchment. There really wasn't much in there to give her insight about him. Other than that he is messy... really messy.

Seeing the spare shirt, she reached her arm out for it, but upon removing it she saw a small wooden box laid neatly underneath with the name Frank Longbottom burned into the wood. Graces gently opened the box, making sure as to not take it out of the bag. She knew that she should probably leave it, that Neville probably wouldn't like her looking through his personal belongings, but she couldn't bring herself to let this opportunity go. Graces frowned when she saw the contents, there was a funny looking coin, what she assumed to be Neville's broken wand, and empty wrappers upon wrappers of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

"What are you doing?"

Graces jumped when she heard Neville's voice behind her. She made sure to keep her hand in the bag, completely covering what she was looking at, as she very carefully closed the box.

"I'm looking for your scarf," Graces lied cooly, bringing her hand out of the bag."I thought I would be safer if I had something covering my neck."

"Yeah, you probably would be," Neville admitted, "but I lost my scarf last week."

"Oh well, it's fine. I'm sure we'll be fine." The Slytherin stood up to go back over to the plant, she did feel slightly guilty for lying to Neville. Especially because she knew how he felt about lying.

"Malfoy, wait." Graces stopped and her heart leaped in her chest. Did she not put the box back exactly how he had it? Did he know she was lying? Graces turned slowly and did her best to act natural. "I think it would be best if you put my things on here."

Graces let out a relieved sigh and walked back over to Neville, who was holding his shirt out for her to move into.

"Why do you have an extra shirt in your bag?" Graces asked, hoping to get her mind off the fact she lied to Neville.

The sandy haired boy just chuckled as he rolled up the sleeves on his shirt so it fit Graces better. "I tend to need an extra shirt most days, I'll spill something on it, Seamus will set my sleeve on fire, or I'll just get it too dirty to wear after volunteering to help Professor Sprout put dragon manure down."

Graces thanked Neville for the shirt and started to head over to the plant. She didn't really like Neville dressing her. She allowed it because she didn't want to put her own scent all over the shirt and get killed, but the act itself was too intimate, too familiar, and she was worried out of her mind someone would see. Well, people did see, but she doubted they saw anything in it. Especially because she made sure to look annoyed whenever she saw someone looking over.

Graces stopped a few feet from the desk and stared at the menacing plant before her. The flower was moving like a cobra in the glass dome facing her, as though enticing her to come near.

"It can't see you," Neville reassured.

"I think it still senses me," Graces dead panned crossing her arms, as though she wasn't worried about getting her throat torn out.

"Face me," Neville ordered. Graces raised an eyebrow at the boy beside her, but did as she was told. Neville was removing his own tie.

"I can't wear that!" Graces exclaimed scandalized.

"Malfoy, again isn't self-preservation a Slytherin trait?" Graces gave Neville a dark look, but didn't protest as he wrapped his tie around her and began tying it. "I think it would be best if you put your hair up; like in that bun you do for potions."

Graces began putting her hair up, while Neville fidgeted with the tie, trying to get it to cover her most vulnerable part of her neck. When Neville began undoing the tie for the third time Graces spoke up. "Longbottom, it's fine." Neville ignored her and continued to try to redo it. "It's fine," Graces stressed, uncomfortable with Neville being so close with so many people around.

"I just want to be sure," Neville said, continuing on.

"Longbottom, stop. This is ri—"

"Graces," Neville whispered. "Please let me do this. I—I care about you. Go ahead and roll your eyes, but I do. I really care about you, and when you were attacked by the Devils snare, I—" Neville sighed. "It really frightened me, so please just let me do this. At the worst we waste a few minutes, but it makes me feel better."

Graces stared down at Neville for a moment. He was still kneeling down holding the tie, but he had stopped doing it up. He was just waiting for her to allow him to continue. Unsure of what she could say she nodded and let him continue on. She watched as his eyes focused on only her neck, and his lips pursed in concentration, a small frown playing on his forehead. He cared so much. She wished he didn't. She didn't deserve it.

"I lied to you," she admitted, quietly. Unable to bare the thought of Neville caring so much for her when he didn't know her.

Neville paused for a moment, before slowly looking up at her. Graces had expected to see his face darkened in anger, especially after what happened the last time she lied to him, and was utterly surprised when she saw a patient face staring up in her eyes waiting for her to continue.

"I wasn't looking for your scarf, I was just... looking," Graces blushed.

"I see," Neville murmured, going back to the tie. "Is there a reason you were 'just looking'?"

"I don't know... I guess I just wanted to know more about you. Sometimes it feels like you know more about me than I do you."

Neville hummed his agreement and continued to focus on the tie. "So do you know more about me now?" Neville asked calmly, still not giving any hint to whether he was angry or not.

"No," Graces concluded. Neville looked up at her for a brief moment, but remained silent. Graces could feel her anxiety peak more and more as Neville didn't say anything. "Well... I guess I realized how messy you were, but I sort of already had an idea of that."

Neville gave a slight chuckle and stood up, finally done with the tie.

"Are you mad?" Graces asked, in a small voice.

"No, Graces, I'm not mad," Neville gently reassured , looking down at her. "I'm disappointed that you don't feel comfortable enough to just talk to me, but I'm not mad." The sandy haired boy paused for a moment. "I am hoping, though, that one day you will feel you can."

Graces knew Neville was being sincere, it was written all over his face that what he was saying he meant, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything back. If anything Neville's proclamation just reminded her of all that she could not have with him. It was so easy for him to offer this, he didn't seem to realize what it was he was offering. Graces knew that she could never take it, though. No one offered this sort of intimacy without wanting intimacy back in return.

"We should start on the plant," Graces reminded awkwardly, not wanting to be standing here like this any longer with Neville. It was too intimate, too real, and just altogether too confusing. They had agreed that this was just supposed to be about sex. It wasn't supposed to be anything else, but every time they were together things just got, well, confusing.

Because it's not about sex. Graces ignored the nasty voice in her head and took her position in front of the plant as Neville stood behind her lifting the glass casing up.

"Don't move your hands out until I say to," Neville instructed as he placed the dome down. Graces listened and kept her hands close to her sides, holding the sheer tightly in anticipation.

"Why are you standing behind me?" Graces asked panicked, realizing that she was directly between Neville and the plant.

She felt Neville's hands move out onto her arms until they were placed over her own. "I have nothing to cover your hands with," Neville explained, "you can't wear my gardening gloves, they're too big for you, and if you fumbled with the sheers and nicked the stem the plant will not hesitate to kill you. I'm going to keep my hands over yours as you work. Now, move slowly and prune starting at the base."

Graces nervously started to move forward. The plant in front of her moved closer, causing her to flinch. "It's going to bite me," she worried aloud, her hands now starting to tremble.

"It won't," Neville murmured quietly in her ear, not taking his eyes off the bud moving closer, "not as long as my hands are over yours. It's just checking for a threat, I have you, you're safe."

Graces nodded, but still could not bring herself to move her hands forward towards the plant.

"Do you want me to hold your hands as you do it?" Neville asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Graces hissed.

A few students looked over, and Ernie offered Neville a sympathetic look when he saw Graces scowl.

Neville blushed at all the attention, but didn't move away from Graces not wanting to leave her vulnerable to an attack. "Graces," Neville whispered quietly, tilting his face slightly so no one could see him speak. "I know you are frightened—"

"I'm not frightened!" Graces said, offended. "I'm just... nervous. That's all, but I am not frightened." Graces felt Neville tighten himself around her. His arms were still over hers, but they were no longer hovering over her. They were pressed skin to skin with her and his body was pressed closer to hers.

"I have you," Neville murmured against her hair so no one could hear. "Just trust me."

"Is everything alright?" Professor Sprout asked moving towards the two students.

"Everything is fine," Neville clipped cooly, focusing his attention back on the plant as though the Professor wasn't there. "Malfoy, start pruning the base."

Graces looked over at the professor and back at the plant, clearly now more nervous with an audience. "Malfoy," Neville pressed taking her hands in his own now and moving them forward.

"Neville, what is it that you are doing exactly?" Professor Sprout asked, concerned as Graces hands reached out.

"Working."

"Yes, but why are you hovering over Miss Malfoy?" the professor asked cautiously, staring at her two students.

"Masking her scent with mine, in the hopes that the plant will be tricked and not rip her throat out," Neville explained in a monotone, still focusing all his attentions on Graces. "Make a thinning cut, just above that dormant bud. Make sure to angle the shears properly. Good. Very good." Graces was slowly pruning the base of the plant, she chanced a sideways glance to see how the professor was reacting to her favorite student's new temperament towards her. She just seemed uncomfortable, maybe even a little guilt-ridden.

"That was a wonderful idea, Neville," she complimented quietly. "How did you come up with it?"

Graces turned her head to see how Neville would take the peace offering. He seemed torn about it. His lips were still pursed, eyes still forward not looking at the woman, but they were softened.

"Eyes on the plant, Malfoy," Neville ordered briskly. Graces did as she was told, and continued to tentatively prune the plant. Neville let out a small sigh. "The plant attacked her, like I said it would, so I blocked her with my body to keep it from tearing out her throat."

"And the plant stopped mid attack?"

"Yeah," Neville confirmed softly. "Graces here was the one that figured out the plan to mask her scent with mine. She's pretty excited to be able to be more active in the practical part of the class." Graces turned and gave Neville a dark glare. "Malfoy! Eyes forward."

"I'll let you two get back to work," Professor Sprout smiled. "Oh, and Neville I almost forgot. There is some gillyweed that I am going to need to harvest soon, and I was wondering—"

"Yes, of course," Neville broke in, glancing over at Sprout and offering her a smile. "Just let me know when."

Graces waited until Sprout was gone before commenting. "You are very forgiving."

"Mmm," Neville hummed, concentrating on Graces hands. "That's too rough, ease up on the blade... Too light, you want to remain firm, but gentle. Better."

"Why are you so forgiving?"

"There was no reason not to," Neville shrugged, angling his arm so it was more over hers as the plant came closer. Graces knew that she should be frightened that a lethal plant was moving so close to her wrists, but the only thing she could think of was how wonderful Neville smelled and how handsome he looked when he was concentrating.

"You keep becoming a little rough with it," Neville pointed out gently. "That's why it is moving closer now. Try to maintain the same pressure on the blade." Graces could feel her heart rate go up as Neville took her hand in his and applied the correct pressure as she cut. "Do you feel the difference?"

No.

"I'm unsure," Graces breathed, trying desperately hard to concentrate on what Neville was trying to teach her and not his warm breath caressing the side of her neck. She had heard the term weak in the knees before, but this was her first time ever experiencing it firsthand. She felt as though her whole body was vibrating with anticipation, and so much of her effort was just being placed in trying to hide the effect from Neville.

"Graces?"

Bloody hell, Graces thought as a shiver, an actual shiver went down her spine from Neville just whispering her name in her ear.

"It's okay, here lets just move back from the plant. I'll prune for a little bit, then if you feel up to it you can continue."

Graces didn't know what was worse: Neville thinking she shivered because she was frightened, or him knowing the truth.

"No, it's fine," she said softly. "I can do it. Maybe if you just could show me again what pressure to apply?"

"Here," Neville said, moving her palm so it was facing upward, and pulling her sleeves back. "The plant has a sensitive stem, not all plants do, but this one in particular does. It's much like how your skin is sensitive in certain areas," he lectured, moving closer to Graces and leaning his head over her shoulder slightly. "Now, if I run my finger over your palm like so, you don't feel much." Neville was gently dragging his finger along Graces palm towards her. "But notice if I continue upward and move to the side of your arm, with the same pressure and speed, you begin to feel more."

Graces wondered if Neville knew the effect he was having on her as he ran his finger up side of her arm. It didn't seem like he did. Neville was still telling Graces about the plant, explaining how its stem was incredibly sensitive and how the way she touched it could either ease its nerves or make it more agitated. He didn't seem to notice that her face had become incredibly flushed. Or that the skin he was touching was slowly becoming heated. Or that she couldn't seem to take her eyes of his lips as he talked.

"Malfoy... Malfoy... Graces."

"Oh, what?" Graces asked, wondering how long she wasn't listening.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to bore you," Neville apologised awkwardly. "I sometimes just get carried away talking about plants."

"No, no it's fine. It wasn't that. Anyways, I think I got it now. Shall we?"

"Yeah, go ahead and take the shears again... That's much better. Make sure to keep the cut straight... Wonderful. By the way," Neville started as Graces applied the correct technique, "I never did thank you for earlier. You know, for not being cruel towards Hannah. I really appreciate that you took the note. I don't know how to thank you for that. You didnt have to do that."

"I can think of a way for you to thank me," Graces purred seductively. "Say, tonight after dinner?"

Oh my Gods. Did I seriously just say that? Graces' whole body was starting to flood with panic when Neville made no reply. She could not believe she had been so forward. She wondered if she sounded slutty for making such a brash suggestion. In her worry she forgot to pay attention to her movements and her hands slipped outside of Neville's arm barrier, allowing the plant to lunge towards her arm. When she jumped back to avoid a bite, she was pressed right against Neville and was even more surprised to feel something hard against her lower back.

When she looked up at the sandy haired boy, he was blushing violently and was pointedly looking up towards the ceiling his lips tightly pursed.

"After dinner is fine," he confirmed, his voice higher than he meant. He coughed a bit out of embarrassment, before continuing. "I'm free before though... If you.. well, if you wanted."

Graces smiled up at him, relieved to see that he didn't answer her right away from shock and apparently images that were jumping to his mind. "I can't earlier. Draco and I have plans."

"Right then," Neville nodded, clearing his throat again. "Lets finish the plant."

Graces didn't move though, she knew Neville wanted her to look away from him at the moment so she wouldn't see how flushed he was, but she didn't care she quite enjoyed him so unnerved.

"You can let go of me now," Graces pointed out, rather enjoying herself.

"Oh! Sorry, right," Neville sputtered letting go of his hold on her. "I just, well—"

"It's fine," Graces giggled. "Now, shall we get back to work?"

"Uh, yeah."

Graces continued to work, keeping in mind everything Neville had told her before hand, while at the same time becoming increasingly excited for their meeting tonight.

"So... ummm... Do you have anything specific in mind for how, uh, you want me to thank you?" Neville asked, pretending to be casual, but in actuality sounding nervous.

Graces would have dropped her shears if Neville hadn't had his hand around hers supporting them. Is he... is he trying to talk...

"I, uh, well," Graces blushed, "I liked that thing you did our first time," she whispered, making sure no one was paying attention to them.

"...what thing?"

"You know," Graces muttered, blushing. "That thing you did.. the thing with your tongue..."

"Oh," Neville said slowly, now understanding what it was Graces wanted.

"Of course you don't have to," Graces added hurriedly.

"Are you kidding?" Neville chuckled, pressing himself closer to her. "I have no complaints over that."

Graces was glad Neville was still behind her as she was smiling like a fool, and even more glad that there were branches from other plants hiding both her and Neville's face at the moment.

"I'll of course make sure to thank you as well for helping me pass this class."

"Will you?" Neville asked huskily, rubbing her arms with his fingers.

"Almost done?"

Graces and Neville both jumped back startled from the voice behind them. Professor Sprout was just standing there smiling, clearly not realizing that she was interrupting such a private moment.

"Yep," Neville confirmed quickly. "We're actually done I think."

"Wonderful," Professor Sprout clapped. "I wanted you to know that both of you passed. I don't need you to do it, Neville, since I've seen you with the plants so many times. I'm really happy you were able to participate, Miss Malfoy."

Graces nodded, still a little shaken from the Professor sneaking up on them. When Sprout walked away she let out a relieved breath.

"We should start packing up," Graces observed, moving towards the desk.

"Yeah," Neville agreed, noticing that most of their classmates seemed to be finishing up with their plants as well. "It looks like we did more pruning than the others, though."

Graces nodded, placing her book and other personal items in her bag.

"What's your next class?" she asked swinging her bag on her shoulder.

"Muggle studies."

"You would take that class," Graces sneered, but Neville noted there was no actual venom to her words.

"It's actually a very interesting class," Hermione commented, coming up to the desk. "We're studying electricity at the moment."

"Mmmm.. Granger, I actually have a question for you about the muggle world, that is if you wouldn't mind answering," Graces asked silkily.

Hermione seemed a bit surprised, but brightened considerably. Neville however was watching the two girls cautiously, not at all liking how sweet Graces' voice was. He knew that nothing sweet would likely come from a poisoned smile like that.

"Yes of course, what is it?"

"Do they not have any form of etiquette in the muggle world? I mean here in the wizarding world we know better than to just interrupt a conversation. It's rude and uncouth, but I suppose since muggles are so barbaric in other ways, medicine and dentistry being only two examples, is it possible that they have just not evolved enough to know to be polite?"

Hermione gave an indignant huff, ignored Graces' comment, and turned to Neville. "Are you ready to go?"

"Umm no, not yet. I'll just meet you in class," Neville said, feeling uncomfortable with both Graces and Hermione being so near one another.

"Don't be late tonight, Longbottom," Graces clipped, heading towards the door. "I despise waiting." Graces then looked darkly at Hermione. "Almost as much as other things."

"She truly is vile," Hermione growled as Graces left the Greenhouse. Neville didn't comment back. He had a feeling much of what Graces did was for show. While he believed she was irritated at the interruption Hermione had caused, he didn't think she actually meant any of the scathing comments towards her. "I really don't mind waiting, Nev," Hermione offered still standing beside him.

"No, it's fine. I wanted to talk to Professor Sprout, and I would prefer to be alone for it."

Hermione nodded, though she looked curious about what Neville wanted to talk to the professor about, she decided not to ask. Much to Neville's relief.

"Okay, see you in a bit." And with that she was gone.

Neville went over to where Professor Sprout was examining a very upset fanged geranium that clearly had been cut too deep. She was in the middle of putting on a special paste when Neville joined her in holding the stem.

"Neville," the professor exclaimed in surprise, "What are you doing here? You have class."

"I wanted to apologize," Neville murmured quietly, taking some of the paste and gently applying it so that it seemed inside the cut of the plant. "I know I was a bit... crass with you, and I may have stepped over some lines."

"It's alright, dear," Professor Sprout said kindly, putting a motherly hand on the boy beside her. "You were worried for her. I understand that. I was worried for her as well, I really didn't want her doing this project either."

"Then why didn't you just exempt her from it?"

"Like I told you earlier, my hands were tied. She needed to be able to do it to pass the class. If she wasn't able to do it here, I wasn't sure how she would do it for her N.E.W.T. exams. Also," Professor Sprout smiled, "I trusted that you were going to be able to help her. I didn't know how exactly, but I assumed you would think of a way. You truly are brilliant in this class, Neville, and I was thinking that maybe after you graduate you would like to enter an apprenticeship under me."

"Really?" Neville awed. "I'd love that. It's what I was actually hoping for. I was going to ask you about it next year."

"Well, as long as you continue to do well in the class, just consider it yours."

Neville was unsure of what to do, he wanted to actually hug the professor in front of him, but was unsure if that would be appropriate or not. Luckily he didn't have to decide, because Professor Sprout pulled him into an embrace on her own.

"You're really gifted, Neville," she cooed, still holding him close, "and so good natured. You're like your mother in that way."

Neville felt something clench in his stomach at the mention of his mother.

"I should get to class, before I'm late," he said awkwardly, breaking away from the embrace. "Thank you so much, Professor, I swear I'll continue to earn it."

Neville was practically walking on air as he turned down the lonely corridor to class. Most of the other students were all scrambling to not be late, having only three more minutes, but Neville just continued strolling, a smile still planted firmly on his face. He was about to enter the last hall, where his class would be, when someone pulled him into an empty broom closet.


	21. Chapter 21

The last thing Neville expected when he was in the dark broom closet was for Graces to have thrust him up against the wall, kissing him feverishly. He had only a moment to realize who it was before she was pressed up against him, hungrily kissing his lips and weaving her hands through his once nicely parted hair. It didn't take him long though to begin passionately kissing her back.

As the snogging became more heated, Neville pulled Graces closer and turned her so that she was now the one against the wall. The blonde let out an excited giggle as Neville began trailing kisses down her neck, his hand wandering up from her hip to her rib cage.

"Something funny, Miss Malfoy?" Neville grinned against her mouth.

"Of course not, Mr. Longbottom," Graces stated with false seriousness, moving her hands down his chest towards his belt. "I was just thinking of how extremely sexy it is when you take control."

Neville closed his eyes as Graces' hands went farther than his belt, barely caressing him over his trousers, causing his breath to hitch and a low moan to admit from hi, as she then began nibbling at his ear.

"You like it when I take control, huh?" Neville asked, his head swimming from the things he was feeling.

"Mmmhmm," Graces hummed against his neck, where she began planting open mouth kisses. "Nothing is hotter than a man who knows what he wants."

Unable to take the teasing any longer, Neville captured Graces' lips in his own and kissed her in ways he was sure told her exactly what he wanted. And to make his point come across crystal clear, he pressed her hand more firmly against himself before moving his own up her skirt where he teasingly began caressing her bare hip.

"Two can play that game, Mr. Longbottom," Graces purred, moving her hand away from where Neville wanted it and to his hip where she slipped her finger under his belt. Teasing him as she moved it from side to side.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Neville smiled, moving the end of Grace's underwear down, and slowly making his way between her legs.

Graces closed her eyes and let out a delicious moan as Neville began his endeavors. He watched as her head tilted upward and her breathing quickened, making him—if possible—more turned on by the experience. Even in the dark he was could see her face: her pink lips moving in silent moans, her skin beginning to glow from a mixture of heat and sweat, and her cheeks pinking in excitement.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, in awe of the creature before him. "So beautiful," he whispered, now kissing the side of her mouth and moving towards her collarbone. He felt Graces' hand move from his side to the inside of his pants. He now was the one whose breath was increasing as she began stroking him slowly.

Neville was just about to begin taking the rest of Graces clothes off so he could properly enjoy her, when the blonde stopped kissing him and moved her hand out from his trousers.

"We better head to class now," she decided, pulling her panties back up and grabbing her bag.

"Wh-what? You're joking, right?" Neville cried, not at all liking that idea at all.

"We're already late," Graces giggled, smoothing her hair.

Neville didn't have a clue what to say, he just stood there mouth open, completely astonished at what Graces was doing.

"But... but..." Neville sputtered, "what was the point of this, then?"

Graces raised an elegant eyebrow and smirked. "I wanted to make sure you were thinking about me today," she shrugged, "and I had been dying to kiss you all through class."

"There should be laws about doing this sort of things to blokes," Neville groaned. "You can't seriously be leaving me like this."

Graces giggled and moved closer to the Gryffindor, kissing him longingly on the lips. "Girls do this all the time to blokes," she said seductively against him, "The difference is that I am going to let you have me as many times as you want tonight, whereas many guys just have to settle for snogging sessions and heavy petting with their girls, going back to their dorms sexually frustrated for months before getting further."

Neville pulled Graces in closer to him and began kissing her heatedly. "Skip class," he begged, "Let me thank you now. I swear I'll make it worth your while."

Graces gently pushed Neville away, giving him an apologetic smile.

"Can't," she maintained. "Tonight, I promise."

"You're wicked," Neville groaned, rubbing his palms down his face. "Never believed you to be pure evil until this moment, but the rumors are true."

Graces laughed vibrantly at the statement before kissing Neville on the cheek and heading towards the door. "Tonight, I promise. I'll show you all kinds of wicked things," she teased with a wink, before heading out the door.

"Minx," Neville called out playfully as the door shut.

Despite Neville's new level of sexual frustration, he still found himself smiling when he entered his next class, though he entered it extremely late. Luckily, he wasn't in trouble as Hermione had taken it upon herself to tell their Professor that Neville had to talk to Professor Sprout for some reason after class. As Neville left Muggle Studies, he still had no idea how electricity worked. Graces had accomplished exactly what she set out to do. He thought of her the whole time, as well as fantasized continuously of what he planned on doing later that night.

Throughout the rest of the day Graces Malfoy had been the inadvertent cause of him daydreaming in Transfiguration, almost walking off the moving staircase in the halls, leaving his bag in the library and heading over to the wrong class. Luckily, most people just chalked all his mistakes up to his personality and not to the real reason, which was that he was edging beyond smitten with a girl whose father wanted to kill him just a few months ago.

Part of him, the annoyingly logical part, said that he needed to slow down, that fancying Graces and... and doing what he was doing were two very different things. One was harmless, and the other one was... well, was. Point being that at the moment he felt like he was falling down an abyss. An abyss that he had chosen to fall down, one that he had stood on the edge of and consciously decided to step off. The problem was that when he had stepped off that edge, he had thought he would have a long ways to fall, but the more Neville got to know Graces the more he realized the ground was closer than he thought. The mad part of all this was, Neville couldn't wait to hit the ground.

"Well, I better be off," Neville declared, excusing himself from the Gryffindor table.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked, looking at Neville's practically full plate of food. "You barely ate."

"I have a potions lesson with Malfoy," Neville shrugged, more focused on gathering his bag which he had taken to dinner.

"How is that going, Neville?" Hermione asked, curiously.

"She gave him 'Potions for Beginners' and set her owl on him again," Harry announced, clearly not at all happy with the way his friend was being treated.

"That's insulting!" Hermione declared, outraged. "Neville, why didn't you tell me? I could just go back to tutoring you."

"She's really not bad," Neville defended. "Honest, she's not. She's actually a very good tutor. She even gave me this test that would allow her to see how I learned."

"Are you saying you like Malfoy tutoring you?" Ron asked, scandalized.

"Yes," Neville blurted, and then upon seeing everyone's face quickly added. "I mean, no." More looks. "I don't know. She's not that bad."

The group looked over at the Slytherin table where Graces was talking to her brother. Upon seeing their stares, though, both twins gave identical glares before turning their noses up at them.

"Yeah, she seems lovely," Ron deadpanned.

Neville sighed. "She's good at tutoring, at least. Anyways, I better go."

Neville, despite the fact he had seen that Graces was still at dinner, practically ran all the way to the classroom. He could not have been more excited if he was at the Quidditch World Cup. Ever since the closet he had been imagining being in this room with Graces, picking up where they had left off. Neville had never been more happy to wear wizarding robes through the day, or he would have suffered some extremely embarrassing teenage moments.

As the time ticked by, Neville found himself growing increasingly nervous. He had been with Graces before, but he had never know he was going to be with her like this time. The other times just sort of happened, one minute they were drinking the next they were rolling on the floor with one another. One minute they were practically screaming at one another, the next he had her up against the wall and then was taking her on a desk. These things between them were never really planned, they just happened. Now that he was expecting it though, he started feeling nervous. Neville anxiously moved his hands to his hair, making sure it was still parted neatly.

I wonder if she even likes it parted, Neville thought. Thinking of how other boys did their hair. He certainly did his more traditional. His gran always seemed to insist on that, not being one to want his hair unkempt, but Neville wondered if Graces had a preference.

I think we have bigger things to worry about than just hair.

As that nasty thought entered into Neville's mind, he suddenly became greatly aware of his looks. It wasn't that he didn't tend to think of how he looked, but now he realized that someone else was paying attention too. He ran his tongue over his front teeth, that were buck toothed and gapped. He remembered how he had begged his gran to allow them to be shortened and pulled in when he was younger, but she always refused. Neville suspected it was because it reminded her of his father when he was younger. While he still wanted them shortened, he didn't press the matter any further when he realized this. Losing a father you never knew wasn't anything compared to losing the son you always wanted.

But things were changing for him now. He no longer wanted to just please his gran and try to make up for the son she lost. He had spent years of his life trying to be as good as his father for her, and for years he had always felt he was a disappointment. Graces didn't make him feel that way. She never seemed to want him to be anyone else other than who he was. Still, he found himself wanting to appear more attractive to her.

Neville began thinking of the boys he had seen around Graces, and suddenly started to feel a bit sick. All of them were devilishly handsome. It was like the Slytherin house just pumped out models. Most of the boys there didn't seem to have any odd pubescent look, it was as though they just one day transformed into ravishing men. Even Higgs, as young as he was, had this dashingly handsome look about him.

Plus, he has that whole mysterious thing going for him since he rarely talks, Neville thought bitterly.

She's not with them though, she's with me, Neville told himself firmly, trying to comfort himself and draw away from such thoughts.

She's not really with you, the snide voice continued. She said she wasn't your girlfriend. She really has only been with Nott.

And as though the fates had heard his inner monologue, Graces then entered the room with her ex-boyfriend trailing behind her.

Neville, who had been leaning on a desk, immediately sat up. This was the last thing he had expected to happen. Graces, as she entered, shot him an apologetic look, before continuing her conversation with the tall Slytherin following her.

"I really can't, Nott. I'm sorry, but you will have to find someone else to tutor you," Graces said irritatedly as she placed her bag on the desk Neville was standing in front of.

"Come on, Gray," Nott pleaded gently, moving his hands and taking hers with a handsome smile. "I really could use the help, and you seem to find time to tutor everyone else."

"That's different," she quipped coldly, yanking her hand away from Nott. "I have a duty to the younger years, and a life debt to Longbottom."

"It could be argued that you also have a duty to me," Nott persisted, moving closer to Graces. "Our families are trying to reach an alliance together."

"That responsibility falls on Draco," Graces drawled, now stepping away from the table and walking away from her ex. Nott's hand shot out though and he was gripping her by the wrist preventing her from moving away.

"Oi!" Neville bellowed, moving forward and shoving the Slytherin. "Don't touch her like that!"

"Mind your own business, Longbottom," Graces hissed, pushing Neville away and stepping between the two boys so her back was facing Nott. "I don't need your stupid Gryffindor heroics, so leave it be."

Neville was about to argue, but Graces looked up at him imploringly with her silver eyes and mouthed 'please'. Neville had no idea what was actually going on, but he backed off at her request.

"You can't be here, Nott," Graces continued, turning and facing the other boy. "This is Longbottom's life debt, and I doubt he wants to give up his tutoring time for you. If you really want I can tutor you with the younger years."

"I refuse to be tutored with children," Nott scoffed, before grinning predatorily. "You could always tutor me after you finish with Longbottom here though."

Neville moved more to the side to see Graces expression.

"Absolutely not," she stated firmly. "Draco would never allow it, given our history. He would say that is completely inappropriate. "

"Then don't tell him," Nott shrugged easily. "Draco does not need to know everything you do." Graces opened her mouth to argue more, but Nott cut her short. "Also, I think that he has grander things to worry about. For instance, if this alliance between him and I doesn't pan out, I imagine he could be in some awful predicaments in the future."

Neville watched as Graces face immediately lost it's ferocity and looked fearful. He suddenly realized that Nott must have some way to hurt Draco, because he had never seen Graces' look falter so fast.

"He can stay," Neville decided aloud, causing both Slytherins to look over at him in surprise.

"You're going to let me stay?" Nott asked slowly. "Why?"

"Gryffindor chivalry," Neville explained simply, moving over to his bag and taking out his things. "It would be discourteous for me not to allow you to stay. Especially when not allowing you places a girl's virtue in a questionable position, so you get to stay."

"It's settled then," Graces declared, before the Slytherin could say anything else. "Longbottom, start getting your things out, and Nott you do the same. I'll give Longbottom here his assignment first, and then come over and see what you need help with."

Nott didn't move from his spot, instead he just glared at Neville, who—despite his earlier words—couldn't help but be slightly intimidated.

"Nott, the longer you stand there glaring at Longbottom, the longer it will be before I can help you," Graces scolded.

Nott gave Neville one more contemptuous look before retreating to the desk in front of him, where he angrily started unpacking.

"Thank you," Graces murmured quietly, as she stood next to Neville and flipped through his potions book. "I'm so sorry, he followed me after dinner and—"

"It's fine," Neville whispered gently, placing a reassuring hand on hers. Graces moved her hand away quickly, and gave him another apologetic look.

"If he turned around and saw..."

"Sorry, you're right, " Neville apologized, taking a deep breathe to gather himself.

"He doesn't even need help," Graces growled lowly, as she took out the ingredients and tools that Neville would need and organized them neatly on the desk . "He's extremely talented in potions."

"Then why is he here?" Neville asked, impatient, himself, with the boys' presence.

Graces looked at Neville for a moment and bit her lip. "Promise me you'll leave things be."

"Wha—"

"Promise me, Longbottom. No matter what, you will not say anything. Just stay here at your desk, don't come over, don't yell at him, and certainly don't shove him again... or hit him," Graces added hastily. "Just stay here."

"Graces, I can't pro—"

"You can," Graces stressed. "I'm a big girl, I can handle this. If you don't promise me, I'll tell him I can see him after you, which would be much worse for me. So, promise me you will stay here and not say a word."

"As long as he isn't hurting you, I promise," Neville said grudgingly, now more fearful of what was going on.

"Graces," Nott sang impatiently.

"Just a moment," Graces requested, "Longbottom has a few questions before we begin."

Nott rolled his eyes, and turned back to his own desk, clearly irritated that Neville required her longer. Graces flipped open the book and searched the pages for a moment before finding what she was looking for.

"Here," Graces said handing Neville the open book. "It's just a simple cough potion, super easy. Not that I think you can't handle a more complex potion," Graces quickly added, seeing Neville's face. "I'm giving this to you so there will be no mistakes that could cause injury; and also so you won't need my help. Even if you mess this up there won't be any consequences other than it being a wrong color."

"Graces," Nott called again impatiently.

"Coming," Graces exclaimed over her shoulder,,flustered. "Remember your promise," Graces reminded Neville quietly, before leaving.

Neville watched her make her way to Nott, who upon seeing her coming gave Neville a goading smirk. It wasn't the smirk that got to Neville though, what got to him was how the Slytherin placed his hand on Graces lower back as he guided her to the table, and the look of deep shame on Graces' face when she turned and saw he had seen.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Graces continued to read over the instructions to make the Draught of Peace, all the while trying valiantly to ignore Nott's hand around her waist.

"It says to add powdered moonstone until the potion turns purple," Graces read shakily. Nott hummed a reply, clearly not at all interested in the potion. "This is important No-"

"Theodore," Nott interjected, bending down so that his face was in the crook of her neck. "I think it's about time we were back on a first name basis, don't you?"

Graces gritted her teeth and tried to repress the shudder going through her spine as Nott's hot breath violated her neck.

"No, I don't. Nott is fine for me."

"Graces," Nott purred, moving closer and wrapping his other arm around her now. "Let's stop this now, huh? You know I am sorry, and I am willing to spend the rest of my life making up for the betrayal."

Graces jerked away, and pushed the jar of moonstone against Nott's chest. "Add the powder. You don't have enough hellebore syrup for the potion; I need to get my vial out of my bag."

"That is a sufficient amount," Nott asserted, placing the jar Graces handed him down.

"No," Graces objected slowly, clearly at the edge of her patience. "It is not. This potion requires everything to be measured out and done perfectly. If not done correctly, there are any number of possible severe consequences. The Draught of Peace can place a person in a deep sleep; a possibly irreversible sleep," Graces stressed. "Too much of certain ingredients and too little of others is dangerous. Hellebore syrup is used in potions to treat paralysis, not using enough in this potion can cause the taker to become paralysed for a long period or permanently. The syrup is needed to cancel out some of the side effects of so much moonpowder.

"Merlin, Nott, you should know this," she hissed. "Only using that much syrup can cause the drinker to be paralysed for hours! And not just certain areas, completely."

"Graces," Nott began taking his face on a dark look, as he moved her hair away from her face. "Have I ever made a mistake in potions?"

"No," Graces admitted quietly, taking a step back as a something in the back of her mind told her she was in danger.

"That's right. I think it is fair to say that, when it comes to potions, I know what I am doing," Nott bragged, something sinister etching along his face. "So if I am choosing to not put enough syrup it must be purposely."

Graces looked over at the bubbling potion on the desk and felt a sickness begin to clutch her stomach.

"I won't help you," she breathed, now looking up at the boy in front of her with as much defiance as she could muster.

"Gray, you're a smart girl. Surely you realize, I don't actually need your help with this potion," Nott cooed, stepping so that he wedged her between the table and himself, like an animal cornering his pray. Panicked, Graces made to move, but the bigger boy leaned his body against hers, a playful chuckled escaping his lips. Graces tried to think of a way to get Nott to back off.

"Longbottom—"

"We're not doing anything," Nott interrupted, not allowing Graces to use another person in the room as an excuse. "We're just talking intimately. Longbottom over there will just assume we are two ex-lovers getting back together. He can't hear a thing from this distance, with us talking so low."

Graces closed her eyes and tried to stop the panic that was spreading through her. There was no way out of this situation, she had to be compliant.

He's not hurting you, he's just touching and talking. Just calm down. You're okay, Neville won't let him hurt you. Just get through this.

Graces gripped the desk behind her tightly as Nott ran his thumb along her neck, and pressed himself against her.

"I've always wanted you," Nott divulged, admiring Graces. "I never understood why you always seemed to cower away from physical intimacy. I had thought at first it was me. I was pretty lanky, up until 5th year. I worked all summer to be more physically attractive to you, and while other girls noticed, it seemed as though you didn't care."

Graces gasped as Nott's hand shot up from her waist and held the back of her neck firmly.

"You were my girlfriend," he gritted bitterly, not bothering to be gentle any longer. "I worked out every day all summer for you, and you didn't even seem to notice. You were always wrapped up in Draco or school. It never seemed to matter to you what I did for you, you never took notice. Is some physical affection and attention really too much to ask of a girlfriend? Was it really that impossible for you to give?"

"I should have given you more attention," Graces admitted shakily, "but physical affection was never my responsibility. That is a duty for a wife, which I was not."

"You were supposed to be," Nott murmured, easing his hand slightly.

"If you wanted that, you shouldn't have slept with another girl," Graces clipped coolly, her eyes not wavering from Nott's.

"Tell me something, Graces, would you have married me had I been faithful?"

"Yes."

"You didn't love me though. Why would you have married me if you didn't love me?" Nott implored.

"I had assumed love would come with time," Graces explained, now realizing how foolish she had been. "I was never one for silly romance, as you know. I thought with marriage and a family I would grow a fondness for you that through the years would bloom into love."

"And now?"

"That soil has been poisoned."

"And what if you had never grew to love me?" Nott continued, only his eyes showing his anger.

"I would have had other things to keep me happy: children, Draco, a career and the usual comforts of life."

"Maybe I don't care if you ever grow to love me now," Nott said, his eyes boring into hers. "Maybe I am willing to be married to a woman I know will never love me, so long as she gives me an heir and acts the part of a dutiful wife."

"Maybe I want love now," Graces professed, not knowing herself where that confession had come from, but realizing that that was indeed what she wanted.

"You have love though," Nott pointed out slyly, nearing Graces face. "Don't you?"

Graces frowned, unsure of what Nott was talking about. Did he know she was sleeping with someone? But that most certainly did not mean love. Nott should know that sleeping with someone definitely did not equate to love.

"You have Draco," Nott smiled, his face directly in front of hers, "and I know how much you love your brother, Graces."

Graces could feel her face drain of color, as her heart began pounding violently in her chest. Nott grinned at her sudden understanding.

"Tell me, though, Graces," Nott purred, running his hand through her hair and leaning forward as though he were going to kiss her. "How much do you love your brother? Would you say you would be willing to do anything for him? Because right now your brother could do with someone in the Dark Lord's circle being on his side. Our Lord grows impatient everyday waiting for Draco to complete his mission. I could put in a good word: say Draco is plotting constantly for his mission. It would do well for him to have me on his side, reassuring our Lord about him. The question is, Graces, what would you be willing to do for me if I did?"

"Malfoy?"

Nott emitted a low growl at the sound of Neville's voice, but did sit up so that his face was no longer in front of Graces', though she was still wedged between the desk and him. Graces was looking up at the man in front of her, unsure of what to do.

"You should probably answer him," Nott stated, staring down at her menacingly.

"Yes?" Graces called, her voice shaking slightly.

"I can't seem to find the vial of honey water," Neville sighed.

"I placed it at the front of your desk."

"...It's not there. Would you mind coming over?"

Nott's jaw tightened at the request.

"I'm sure it's there, Longbottom." Graces promised. "Just take another look. I wouldn't have forgotten. I remember distinctly laying it out. It should be the third vial over from the left. I placed it between the African sea salt and rose oil."

"Malfoy, it's really not here," Neville persisted.

Graces took a deep breath and moved to go towards the desk.

"Excuse me, No—Theo," she corrected quickly. "I have to handle this."

While Nott did not seem at all happy by the interruption, he did seem please about the use of his given name.

"That's a good girl," he chided, caressing her cheek.

It took all of Graces' self-control not to flinch at the touch. She started over towards the table, not even able to look at Neville. She felt so ashamed, and being near Neville just made her feel even more so. She felt... dirty. Like Nott touching her had in some way seeped into her skin, and brandished her.

"I could have sworn I left it right here," Graces murmured, touching the space where the vial should have been, still not looking at Neville. "There's even a big gap between these vials."

"Maybe I lost it," Neville offered. "I tried to summon it though, and it didn't come forth. I'm not that great at charms, though."

Graces nodded her head, and took out her own wand. "Accio honey water," she cast, her hand out waiting to catch the vial.

When nothing happened she frowned, she had always been able to do that charm. It was one of the first she learned with a training wand at the manor. She had been performing that charm since she was five.

"Maybe it's stuck under something," Nott suggested, striding over to the table.

Graces looked under the long broad potions table. It was pitch black underneath, she could barely see anything. Wand still in hand she muttered "lumos" and started pointing her wand under the desk looking for the vile. After a few moments she saw it. The glass winked over at her from the corner of one of the legs.

"I see it," she grumbled, getting on her knees to crawl over to where the vial was, but when she tried to pick the vial up from the floor it wouldn't budge. She was just about to call out that it had a sticking charm or something placed on it. When Neville bent down and pulled her completely under the table just as a large boom shook the class.

Graces gasped from the noise, and could hear Nott yelling all sorts of profanities from above.

"Are you okay?" Neville asked tightly, as the Nott continued in his groans.

"Wha-what?" Graces asked, shaken and confused from what was going on.

"Are you hurt?" Neville elaborated, examining her under the table.

"No, no, I'm fine. Wha—"

"Good." Before Graces could ask what was happening, Neville stood up. "Oh, Merlin. I'm so sorry. I-I have no idea what happened. It was just simmering and—"

"Longbottom, you idiot!" Nott bellowed. There was a loud bang against the desk and Graces knew that Nott had just slammed his fist down. She peeked out from under the desk and saw murky steaming green liquid all over Nott, a great portion being on his face that looked to be sprouting very painful boils.

"I-I'm sorry," Neville apologized nervously. "I don't know what happened."

Graces came out from under the desk just as Nott lunged forward and tackled Neville to the ground.

"You bloody idiot! I am going to kill you!"

"Theodore!" Graces called now trying to pull the boy off Neville, but making sure to avoid the potion. "Stop! It was an accident, stop it!"

Nott pushed Graces away effortlessly though, causing her to fumble against another desk. Neville seizing the opportunity of not having both hands upon him, reached up and decked the other boy right in the face where a cluster of boils were bubbling up. Nott doubled over in pain, clutching his face.

When he had regained himself Neville was standing up his wand in hand.

Nott glared at the Gryffindor before him, slowly standing up and brandishing his own wand dangerously.

"You have no idea who you are messing with, Longbottom." he threatened tightly, not flinching as more boils began to spring up on his face.

"Theo, it was an accident," Graces pleaded, moving over and holding Nott's other arm. "Please, don't make this into a big deal. You know Longbottom here is always messing up, if it is anyone's fault it is mine for not checking on him. I'm so sorry, please stop."

Neville and Nott were still just glaring at one another, neither paying attention to the girl in between them.

"Like I said," Neville began slowly, his wand still pointing menacingly towards the other boy. "It was an accident."

There was a dead silence in the room for a long period, and Graces thought for sure hexes were about to be thrown, when Nott hissed in pain as a cluster of boils exploded on his face. Leaving half the skin from his bleeding profusely along with puss.

"Oh Merlin, Theodore," Graces cried moving her hand to the wound. "Let me fix this, I have some potion and we can-"

"I don't want your help!" Nott bellowed, slapping Graces hand away and rounding on her. Graces gasped as Nott's hands gripped her shoulders tightly and he pushed her against a wall."You don't get to play healer on me anymore. I'm not that same pathetic guy that would allow you to fix any minor injury on me just to be touched! I want a real healer, not some silly girl with big dreams of being one."

"What the hell is your problem?" Neville interjected pushing Nott away from Graces, and standing as a wall between them. "She's bloody trying to help you. You ungrateful git."

"Longbottom," Graces hissed. "Keep out of this, you've done enough I think for today."

"Don't you dare touch her," Neville continued, ignoring Graces. "I mean it, Nott. Don't you fucking lay your filthy paws on her like that again."

"Got a bit of a crush there, Longbottom?" Nott sneered, his face looking more feral as blood trickled down and burn marks started to appear.

"Of course not," Neville protested, his face starting to pink. "I just—"

"You fancy her," Nott snickered nastily. "I can tell. Who wouldn't? She's a pretty thing to look at. I bet even when she is being particularly nasty and cruel to you, you still end up getting hard."

"You're vile," Neville spat.

"Vile or not, it's the truth. Just remember, Longbottom, girls like her don't go for bucktooth pudgy idiots like you."

"You better head over to the hospital wing," Neville warned coldly. "Pureblood society isn't the most forgiving of imperfection. You wouldn't want any of your wounds to scar."

Nott sneered and made his way to the door leaving Graces and Neville alone.

Neville, no longer having an audience other than Graces in the room, hissed in pain and clutched his ankle. Graces gasped realizing that it was covered in boils, as well as the hand he had used to deck Nott.

"Oh, Merlin! Sit down, sit down," she exclaimed, rushing over to her bag and summoning the boil cure potion she and Neville had made the other day. Before Neville could protest she was on her knees in front of him lifting up his pant leg.

"Graces, it's-"

"It's badly burned too," she interjected, biting her lower lip. "Shit, shit. I don't have burn-healing paste. We have to go to the hospital wing. Here, I'll help you walk. You should have a proper healer anyways. Pomphrey can fix this in no time though, I'm so sor—"

"Graces, I don't want to go to the hospital wing,"Neville said gently, taking her hand in his. "I don't want you any where near Theodore Nott, and I certainly don't want to be away from you right now."

"We have to go," Graces protested. "If we don't get the paste you'll be scarred. I don't have any..."

"I have burn-healing paste," Neville said calmly. "When you share a room with Seamus it's one of those things you keep on hand. It's in my bag." Graces moved to go fetch the paste from Neville's bag, but the Gryffindor didn't let go of her hand. Confused she looked back over at him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Graces reassured. "Really, Longbottom, I'm fine."

"How often does that happen?"

Graces knew what Neville meant by that. He wasn't just asking about Nott being forceful with her, he was asking about they way he had been touching her as well. Ashamed, she looked away.

"It has never happened before," Graces shrugged, still not meeting Neville's eye. "You know old boyfriends they forget and—"

"You don't seem like the type of girl to just let old boyfriends forget," Neville commented. "What's going on, Graces? What was he saying to you? Was he threatening you?"

"Longbottom, drop it. I don't want to discuss this with you."

"You know I wouldn't tell a soul. Why can't you—"

"It's not my secret to tell. Please, don't ask me anymore. I can't tell you. This is not something that has happened before, and I will talk to Draco about it. You do not need to get any more involved. Do you understand?"

Neville really didn't want to let the subject go, but he knew there was no way Graces would tell him anything when her face was set like that. So, realizing arguing would be futile, he nodded. Graces ran over to his bag and got the paste and immediately set to work on his ankle.

"I don't understand what you did to that potion," Graces murmured. "I can't think of one thing you could have done to make it explode like that."

"I didn't make the cough potion. I made the boil potion. I'm surprised you didn't notice, considering we reviewed it just the other day. I made it the same way I did first year, only I was careful to add the porcupine quills after I got you under the desk.I didn't want you getting hurt."

Graces looked up at Neville completely aghast.

"Don't look so surprised," Neville chuckled. "Unfortunately, when I pulled you under the desk, I wasn't able to get my ankle out of harms way. Too tall."

"You planned this?"

"Well, yeah," Neville blushed. "I couldn't let that slimy git continue touching and intimidating you, could I? And you had made it very clear I was to stay at my desk, and not say a word to Nott."

Graces sat there on the ground still stunned by what Neville had done for her. It all was so obvious now: How he called her over, why she couldn't move the vial, how he pulled her under the table.

I shouldn't be surprised, she thought. Neville's a good guy, a good guy who is growing to be a good man...

"You should have stayed out of it," she said quietly, gently taking Neville's hand and beginning to apply the potion and paste. "You have no idea what you have just done. You've made an enemy out of a boy who is growing up to be a very dangerous man."

"I can handle Nott," Neville scoffed. Graces looked up at Neville for a moment, and he could see in her eyes that she didn't feel as confidently about the situation as he did, but she returned to his hand and after a few minutes of meticulous work, and pregnant silence, she finished.

"There, all better," Graces said, looking at Neville's wounds as though she now planned on just watching the healing process. "Maybe we should go to the hospital wing just to be safe."

"It's fine," Neville comforted, standing up.

"It may still scar," Graces argued, not seeming to like that Neville was so ready to dismiss his injuries.

"Then I'll have a really wicked scar," the Gryffindor winked, holding his hand out to Graces to help her up.

Graces rolled her eyes, but took the hand. "You're such a Gryffindor," she scoffed.

"Thank you," Neville affirmed proudly with a playful smile.

"Though," Graces began with a secretive smile. "it would seem you have some...Slytherin traits too."

The smile that had been playing on Neville's face dropped. "You take that back."

Graces erupted in a fit of giggles at Neville's offended look. "No way, Longbottom. Your plan was completely Slytherin: finding a loophole in the promise you made and actually making a calculated plan instead of just jumping in. All very Slytherin," Graces complimented.

"Mmmm," Neville hummed narrowing his eyes at Graces. "I think it could easily be argued as Gryffindor-ish too."

"The act was Gryffindor, the way you implemented it was Slytherin," Graces teased.

"Ugh! You're rubbing off on me," Neville groaned.

"Your gran will be so proud," Graces mused, clapping her hands together.

"You're such a prat. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Just Draco," Graces smiled. "I really would feel better if you let Pomfrey take a look at that."

"Graces, I just said—"

"Please, Longbottom."

Neville sighed, knowing he couldn't say no to Graces when she looked at him like that, with genuine concern. Graces quickly packed the room rushing around as though she thought if she didn't hurry Neville would change his mind.

"It's almost curfew, so we should hurry," Graces instructed pulling her bag over her shoulder.

As they walked down the corridors to the hospital wing a thought crossed Neville's mind.

"I already have scars on my hand, do those bother you?"

"No," Graces replied simply.

"Then why are you insisting I see Pomfrey?"

Graces gave Neville a quick sideways glance for a moment before answering.

"I don't want you having any scars because of me."

Neville frowned at the statement and was going to ask her what all she meant when he heard his dorm mates' voices sounding from around the corner.

"I mean Neville's nice and all, but I never imagined seeing some girl balling her eyes out over him," Dean stated.

"Yeah, I know," Seamus agreed. "I can't believe Neville Longbottom has some girl crying her eyes out over him and I can't even get a date."

"Neville's a great bloke," Harry said defensively.

"No one is saying he's not," Ron pointed out, "but come on Harry even you have to admit he isn't that handsome of a fella. And... now I like Neville and all, you know I do, but he isn't the most... popular of blokes. Remember fourth year when you and me were convinced Hermione just made up having a date for the Yule ball so she wouldn't have to go with Neville?"

"Yeah, I know," Harry admitted. "I really feel bad for him most of the time. He's always forgetting this, or fumbling with that, and sometimes it's funny, but others it's just kind of yeah.. He can't help that he's so... Neville-ish though."

"Neville-ish?" All the other boys asked laughing.

"That's brilliant," Dean said laugh. "I suppose it's the best way to describe it. Like back when he was always losing that toad! I swear I think the toad was just trying to escape from him."

"Yeah," Seamus chuckled, "Remember third year in divination when Professor Trelawney "predicted" he would break his cup? Jesus, that was funny. He really thought she was a real seer! I mean anyone could have predicted Neville would break the cup. He's so clumsy."

"At least he doesn't cry all the time now," Ron added. "Merlin, he used to get teary eyed all the time!"

Neville all of the sudden wished he was back in the classroom with Nott punching him. Or in the barn after Graces had accidently poisoned him. Hell or even being crucioed by Bellatrix at the ministry again, because while all those things hurt they didn't hurt nearly as bad as this.

"They don't see him," Graces whispered clutching the shoulder of her bag strap and looking out into nothing.

"What?" Neville asked, unsure that he had heard Graces at all.

"Nothing," Graces whispered shaking her head.

"Come on, we should go the other way," Neville murmured, turning around. He stopped when he realized Graces wasn't following him.

"Malfoy," he hissed, jerking his head to indicate for her to follow him. Graces didn't move though, she just shaking her head slowly and before Neville could stop her she turned the corner.

"That's right he did cry a lot didn't he?" Graces asked cheerily turning the corner, causing all four boys to jump from surprise. "Pansy used to call him a fat little cry baby. Do you remember the time in potions when he—"

"Shut it, Malfoy!" Ron hissed, whipping his wand out.

"Why don't you make me, Weasley," Graces challenged her eyes glinting dangerously.

Ron raised his wand and was about to call out a jynx when a familiar voice entered the hall.

"Expelliarmus!"

All eyes turned to see Neville standing in the hall now. His wand out and Ron's wand in his hand. He was staring at all the boys with a look of deep betrayal. Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean all couldn't even maintain their gaze on him.

"My gran always said real men don't raise their wand, or hands, against women," Neville murmured quietly, placing Ron's wand down on the ground. "I imagine your mother told you something similar, Ron."

"Neville, we—"

"I don't want to hear it," Neville said tightly, raising his hand.

"Oh, it's like Christmas came early," Graces giggled gleefully. "I wish Draco were here for this. Tell me, Longbottom, are you going to cry?"

"I said shut it, Malfoy," Ron gritted, turning a deep shade of red.

Graces raised and elegant eyebrow, and began walking towards Ron.

"Why?" she asked silkily, taking her wand and raising Ron's chin so that he was no longer staring at the floor but looking into her eyes. "Do you think that anything I say could hurt him as much as you and your friends already have?"

Ron didn't answer. He seemed to have had a silencing charm placed on him, and his skin began to glisten from perspiration. Graces took a step back to see that all the boys had similar looks of shame on them.

"Nev," Harry rasped, "I—we didn't—"

"Mean it?" Graces offered, "Or know he was there?"

Silence ensued over the Gryffindors once again, the only noise to be heard was of Graces' continued laughter.

"Come on, Longbottom, it's late and we still have to get you over to Pomfrey," Graces called nonchalantly, heading towards Neville.

"No," Neville said moving away from everyone. "I... I want to go alone, thanks."

"Why are you going to Pomfrey?" Seamus asked concerned.

Neville didn't answer, he just turned and left towards the hospital wing. Graces stopped and turned to face the boys that Neville called his friends. The boys that she knew he would do anything for. The boys that she saw now didn't see him for all he truly was.

"He was being Neville-ish," she proclaimed, turning back around and heading towards the dungeons.


	22. Chapter 22

"Did you forget the password, dear?"

Neville stared at the portrait hole with the fat lady. There had been so many times he had forgotten the password and been forced to sleep outside of his common room on the steps with the fat lady, but never had there been a time when he wanted to until today.

"No... I remember it," Neville said quietly, wishing he didn't.

"Well, then do hurry up, dear," the fat lady ordered. "It's late and I need my beauty sleep."

"Dillgrout..."

For a brief moment Neville considered cozying up on one of the couches by the fire and sleeping away from his bed, but the thought of how awkward that would make the morning stopped him.

_And I don't want them to think I cried all night or something,_ he thought bitterly, opening the door to the 6th year boys room.

Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean were all up, waiting for him. They must have all been listening for him too, because they each were standing in front of the door still in their clothes from the day. Apparently, none were willing to go to the loo to dress for bed, too afraid they would miss his entry. Neville stared at them from the doorway. He knew they were sorry, it was written all over their faces how sincerely contrite they were, but he still found himself unable to forgive them at the moment. Looking away and pretending he didn't see them, he made his way over to his bed.

"Malfoy's bird is there," Dean informed, right before Neville opened the curtains. "We couldn't get it to leave. We each tried, but it gave us all a good gash on our arms."

The only sign Neville made that he heard Dean was the brief moment of hesitation before he opened his curtains. The bird was indeed there, perched in the middle of his bed with the usual stationary Neville had come to know so well.

"Hello, Loki," Neville greeted quietly, not making any move to take the envelope, still standing clutching the curtains. "Sorry you had to wait."

"It wouldn't have had to wait if it let us just take the letter for you," Ron muttered darkly. "Hell, it could have just dropped it off, but it insisted on wa—"

Ron stopped talking when he noticed Neville staring at him. It wasn't that Neville was being outright mean, or rude, but his expression made it very clear that Ron's comments were not welcome.

When the room was again silent, Neville walked over to his nightstand and opened the drawer, taking out a chocolate cockroach cluster and offering it to the bird. Loki cautiously reached out a talon, never taking his eyes off Neville's face as though he suspected the boy to do something stupid or cruel, and took the treat. As Loki delicately nibbled on the chocolate, Neville gently removed the letter.

_Meet me in the barn, where the thestrals are kept._

_-G. M._

_Also, if I were you, I would storm out of the room, so no one questions why you are leaving... Just a friendly Slytherin suggestion._

"Neville, we—"

"I don't want to hear it," Neville said coldly, now looking at the boys in front of him. "There is nothing you can say to me to make this better right now."

All four boys fell silent as a chill seemed to set in the room.

"You're all supposed to be my friends," Neville said, unable now to hide the hurt in his voice.

"We are your friends," Seamus protested. "Neville, we are so sorry. You have no idea how sorry we are."

Seamus moved to put an arm on Neville's, but the sandy haired boy stepped away from the gesture.

"I know what people think of me. I know I am the school idiot, clutz, nerd. I realize I am not that handsome, and that I'm not anyone's first choice to hang out with, that half the time I'm just embarrassing to be seen with."

"Neville, that's not true, we enjoy hanging out with you."

"Third year, I asked you if you wanted to hang out together while everyone was out on a Hogsmeade trip, Harry," Neville reminded coldly. "You were alone in the hall and I asked if you wanted to play a game of exploding said you had an essay to write, so I offered to go to the library with you. Then you said you just remembered and that you already wrote the essay. It took me a bit, but I eventually realized you just didn't want to hang out with me. What you didn't know, Harry, was I didn't accidently bump into you in that hall. I was looking for you, because I knew you didn't have a form signed, and I didn't want you to be lonely."

Harry had never felt more deplorable. His stomach felt as though it had snakes wiggling around in it, and it was taking all of his effort to not look away from Neville. He knew he wasn't really trying to avoid Neville. That he was only trying to sneak out for the Hogsmeade's trip, but now that he thought about it, he could have snuck Neville out with him. He could have considered how lonely he must have been, not being allowed to go.

"Neville," Harry began morosely.

"Stop talking," Neville hissed angrily, the lump in his throat growing more with every second he had to look at all of them. "I thought things were going to be different this year. I thought that after the ministry, and what you said on the train about me being your friend..." Neville paused and closed his eyes, clearly trying to get a hold of the turmoil of emotions he had raging inside him.

"Tomorrow, I am going to forgive you all, because I know you didn't mean to hurt me. And despite everything that has happened, you all have been good friends to me: helping me with classes, telling me to stand up for myself, defending me, and comforting me even at times. I really am happy to call all of you my friends, but right now I can barely look at all of you."

"Where are you going?" Ron exclaimed as Neville headed towards the door.

"Out," Neville snapped, the door came slamming down behind him.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Graces had been waiting in the barn for what seemed forever. Part of her worried that Neville had thought what she said in the hall with his friends was how she felt, and that he wouldn't come.

_He'll come,_ she reassured herself for the hundredth time.

A low creak sounded and Graces' head shot up from behind a thestral to see Neville enter the barn. Graces' heart sank as she took in Neville's appearance. Even in the dim light of the barn and Neville's head hanging low, she could make out every aspect of Neville's face. He was hurt. After a few moments of her just staring at him, Neville let out a sigh and broke the silence.

"Hi."

"Hi," Graces greeted back somberly.

"You wanted me here..."

"Yes, I..." Graces took in a long breath and moved the thestrial back in the stall, before walking over to Neville and taking one of his hands in her's. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not going to cry, if that's what you mean," Neville muttered, still not looking her.

"I didn't mean that," Graces gasped and reassured urgently, "Surely, you realize I didn't mean that."

Neville raised his head slightly so that he was now staring into Graces' eyes, it seemed as though he were searching for any hint of insincerity.

"I believe you," he murmured, looking back down.

"Your friends are all idiots," Graces proclaimed venomously.

Neville sighed, and ran his hand nervously through his hair.

"They're sorry; they didn't mean it. They're really not that bad of blokes, they made a mistake and they—"

Graces had heard enough of Neville's defense for his friends, so before he could utter another word, she silenced him with a kiss.

"I didn't understand before when you told me you were lonely," she said quietly, pulling back from Neville's lips as he looked down at her confused. "You were surrounded by a house where you could be yourself, and it always seemed like you had friends, but now I see what you meant."

"And what is that?" Neville asked, not taking his eyes off Graces. Wondering if she truly understood.

"They don't see you," Graces said sadly, placing both her hands tenderly on Neville's face.

"And you do?" Neville questioned, silently praying that she did.

"I'm starting to," Graces answered honestly, leaning up and kissing him softly again. "You said you would take away my pain if I took away yours," she whispered, kissing Neville's lower lip sensually and moving her hands down his chest. "I know what it's like to hurt so much that you need something, anything, to make you forget and feel better. Let me take away your pain."

Graces waited for Neville to say something, but he just stood looming over her staring at her as though he still couldn't figure if she were there. It was unsettling, but she maintained herself and didn't move away. It wasn't until Neville reached his hand out and caressed her face, sending a shiver down her spine, that the moment broke.

"You must be freezing," Neville fussed, now realizing that Graces was wearing a silk night gown and nothing else. "Here, take my cloak, you'll catch your death out here like this."

The blonde just shrugged off the cloak though, letting it fall down her body and back to the floor. Neville frowned, and made to reach for it again, but Graces moved closer to him preventing him from bending down.

"Then, why don't you keep me warm."

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Neville could feel his heart pounding in his chest. It was like a dream having Graces here like this: so open, so caring, not being at all closed off towards him. He still didn't understand why she was here like this, how she could want him after hearing all that his friends had said about him, but she was. She was there, standing before him in a silk nightgown, wanting to give him the comfort he so desperately needed. That familiar falling feeling suddenly became more pronounced the longer he stood looking at her.

Tentatively, he reached out and brushed her soft hair from her shoulder, letting his warm hand roam along the exposed skin before moving the straps of her gown down. It rippled down her like water going over the rocks of the creek, and he was left winded by the image presented to him. He was almost afraid to go farther, to take what he so desperately desired from her.

"You were there for me," Graces said gently, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I can be here for you too."

"How long will you be here, though?" Neville asked, fearing for the time when she would be gone, when having her here with him would be nothing but a memory.

"I'm here now," Graces said simply, leaning up and kissing him gently, all the while, carefully removing his clothes. "Isn't that better than nothing?"

Neville didn't answer. He was too busy trying to maintain his own thoughts as Graces pulled his belt away and dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. He could still feel how much his friends' betrayal hurt him, and now he wondered what kind of pain it would be when Graces was gone. He wondered if he could stand such pain, because any longer with her and he knew he would be in love with her. Could he allow himself this comfort from her, knowing that it would bring him that much closer to loving her? Was that sort of pain survivable? Right now it would be. He fancied Graces, and cared a great deal for her, but if she left it would not be devastating. He did want to be in love with her, just not before she started falling in love with him. _She won't even say my bloody given name yet._ He closed his eyes and fervently tried to ignore the swimming feeling in his head, and consider what taking comfort like this from Graces would do to him. However, all self-preservation seemed to slowly leave his mind with ever kiss she planted on his chest.

"Take me in the now, feel me in the present, and only miss me in the end," Graces murmured against his skin. "We both know eventually this will end, but it isn't ending now. Right now, I am here, and I want to be here. That's the most we can both ask of each other."

Graces was now looking up at him, her silver eyes and milky skin glowing in the darkness like a night star. Neville leaned down and kissed her tentatively, as though he were asking permission, and the moment he saw her close her eyes to the kiss he deepened it forcefully. He had never needed someone the way he needed her right then. He continued kissing her mouth greedily, he felt like a man that had been dying of thirst that had just found water. He was ready to just drown in her, self-preservation be damned. Kissing Graces reminded him all over again that there were things worth being devastated over.

He hurt so much, and the thing he didn't even realize about his pain was how dull it had been. It was as though he lived his life in chronic pain, but it wasn't until he heard his friends talking about him did it flare up to the point where it was unbearable. Hearing the conversation in the hall was like having someone confirm that all the things he thought about himself were true. And while Neville had always thought those things, hearing it like that was like a million knives stabbing him in the gut.

But kissing Graces made it all go away. Breathing her in, tasting her skin and feeling her body mold into his, it made every ounce of pain slowly leave him. He held her tighter, not caring that she was already pressed skin to skin with him already. He yearned to be closer to her. If Graces minded how tightly he was holding her she didn't let on, instead she was kissing him with just as much urgency and clinging to him in much the same way he was to her. Somehow they ended up against a stall door that opened almost at once from their weight.

Both students toppled down into the stall, sending hay flying through the air and Graces into a fit of giggles. As Graces laid in the hay laughing and trying to pull the straw out of her hair, Neville wondered if she realized how powerful she was, if she understood that she was closing wounds that he never thought would heal.

"Longbottom," Graces cried, still giggling, "be a gentleman and help me, don't just sit there smiling at my sufferings."

Neville chuckled, and moved to start extracting a piece of straw from Graces' long hair, but ended up kissing her instead, returning to how he was kissing her before they tumbled down to the hay.

"My hair," Graces protested breathlessly, as Neville moved to be in between her legs.

"Don't worry about your hair," Neville muttered huskily, his hot breath caressing her neck as he nibbled down to her collar. "I plan on messing it up anyways."

"Well, what about my skin?" Graces continued, pushing Neville away with a smile. "Do you want me all scratched up? Or being bitten by ticks?"

"Uh," Neville started confused. Graces giggled and walked out of the stall, giving Neville a view of her leaving that had his heart hammering against his chest. When she returned she was holding a soft blanket and, after shooing Neville away, proceeded to cover the hay.

"Hay is actually very dangerous. It may look like the perfect setting for a good romp, but it isn't. It is filled with dust, mold, and ticks, AND the only reason why it is warm is because of bacterial fermentation," Graces lectured. "It's disgusting, and yet in every sappy romance novel there is this cliche scene with the lovers falling in the hay and making love. Like being in a book somehow magically makes it so the straw isn't scratching and tearing up your back. Also, it can cause Hypersensitivity pneumonitis **.** Do you know what that is?"

Neville did not know or care what that was; however, he was enjoying the scene of watching Graces bending down and fixing the bedding over the hay, her breasts swaying as she reached up and over here and there, trying to cover the pile of hay completely.

"It's this inflammation of the lungs. Nasty thing, it—"

Before another word on the subject could be uttered, Neville's lips were once again encasing hers. Graces let out a slow moan as his tongue caressed her lower lip, begging for entry. When Neville was sure that Graces' mind was now far away from hay, he pulled back.

"As much as I am enjoying your dirty talk," he joked warmly, laying Graces down on the blanket, "I'd much rather be enjoying you."

Graces hummed an agreement, clearly still drunk off the kiss, and enfolded Neville into her arms. As they laid on top of the makeshift bed kissing, Neville could practically feel himself being pulled away from the world. It was as though he and Graces were far away from all reality, as though they somehow left the earth and were now in a world all of their own, a world where he could talk to her, tease her, kiss her and make love to her and no one would interfere, a place of no war, no loss, no anything, but them.

"You make me so happy," Neville whispered against her skin, pulling Graces into him and caressing her, sending a shiver down her spine as his soft touch went like lightning through her every nerve. "I can't remember a time when I was ever so content."

"You're just saying that because I'm naked underneath you," Graces breathed.

"Trust me, Graces, while having you naked underneath me makes me happy, it doesn't make me feel content." Neville leaned in close and whispered gently in Graces ear, his words tenderly tickling her skin, "You talking about hay makes me feel content."

Graces wondered if what Neville was saying was true, or just some sort of attempt at making her feel secure, but as Neville began kissing down her neck, and she felt him move her legs apart, she realized that what he was saying was sincere. She let out a small gasp as she felt him enter her, a gasp that was at once muffled by Neville's hot lips possessing hers. He was kissing her unabatedly, while readily moving himself with in her. Letting out slow moans, she began moving her hips upward to meet his, relishing in the noises he made for her and wanting to hear more.

Sex with Neville was like nothing that she ever thought possible. As he moved his body against hers, she shook with the realization that Neville, despite his, as Harry put it, Nevillishness, was the only man she had ever been able to imagine herself being able to let go with. The thought almost immediately sent her into a panic. Neville was one of the last men in the world she should be letting her guard down with. Her mind was just about to start listing the reasons she should not allow herself to become comfortable, when Neville laced one of his hands with hers.

It was such a small gesture, a meaningless gesture to any outsider, but Graces could feel all that was in it. The security he was offering, the silent plea for her to stay with him, for her to not retreat away from this and continue to be there alongside him. Knowing how much Neville needed this, and how much she too even needed it, she tightened her grip on his hand and let go.

She had never expected nights with Neville to be like this: fear, excitement and joy burning so intensely in her that she felt like a tightly wound bowstring, barely being able to hold back. Her fingers dug into his shoulders to anchor herself, as his mouth loitered along her chin saying her name again and again, biting gently all the while, urging her closer with his arm and body. And before she could think of what she was doing her hand was pressed to the back of his head and she was arching under him moving her hips to meet his wanting so much more of him than she knew she should.

"Say you want me," Neville demanded huskily, thrusting deep into her, purposely eliciting long moans from her mouth.

"I want you," Graces breathed. "I want you. I wa—"

Neville's mouth closed over hers hungrily, and his breath grew more and more uneven as he continued to satisfy his own compelling need for her. Graces let him take everything he wanted. Deep and fast they took one another. Passion and pleasure running through their veins to a point where they felt they would burn alive from it and neither caring if they did.

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"We have company," Graces giggled, staring up from their bed of hay.

Neville looked up and saw that two thestrals had popped their heads over the other stalls' walls and were staring down at them. Graces smiled and reached her hand up high in the air to meet the closest one's face.

"Hello, Aeron," Graces cooed, petting the thestral lovingly.

Neville watched her hand dance in the air with the ominous creature's face, its white, murky eyes staring down at them both.

"In fifth year you said you didn't see them. You and Draco said you couldn't see them," Neville pointed out.

"Draco doesn't. I, however, did lie," Graces shrugged. "If I didn't lie then Draco would know I saw them, and he would want to know why."

Neville turned on his side and watched Graces for a few moments.

"Why do you see them?" he asked gently, hoping the memory wouldn't be too sad.

Graces peeked over at him from the side for moment, before slowly putting her hand down. It was clear she was debating whether or not to tell Neville, but he had a feeling she was going to tell him. Her hand was twirling the long chain of the necklace he gave her, while its pendent danced just below her chest.

"You first," she asked hesitantly.

Neville raised an eyebrow, but decided to give into Graces' demand.

"I saw my grandfather pass away," he said simply. "I was seven, and he had dragon pox. At his age there wasn't much for the healers to do."

"My grandfather died from it too," Graces said sadly staring up at the ceiling. "Do you miss him?"

"Yeah," Neville admitted quietly. "It was really hard on my gran after. Me too, I suppose, but definitely harder for her. My great uncle Algie moved down soon after though. You know, to help her raise me, and to take on the role of patriarch. I think having him around really helped Gran. She complains about him a lot, he's a bit more eccentric, but I think she's really grateful for him."

"Eccentric how?"

"Like holding me upside down over the staircase railings to scare the magic out of me," Neville chuckled. "He was trying to prove I wasn't a squib."

Graces laughed at the image. "Yep, that would give you the title of eccentric. Did it work?"

"Yeah, it did," Neville smiled, "he dropped me on accident and I ended up bouncing. My gran was so happy she cried."

Graces opened her mouth to ask another question, but Neville stopped her "Oh, no you don't, Malfoy, it's your turn to share now. Why do you see the thestrals?"

"I was very young when it happened. I think six, or seven at the most. Everything is very fuzzy," she began turning on her side so her and Neville were facing one another. "I remember being in my room in the middle of the night, and something waking me. There was this dark figure looming over my bed with a dagger and then my father's voice followed by this flash of green light. I was still half asleep at the time, but I remember it feeling real. When I sat up though, my father was at my bed. I told him there was a man in my room, and that he had just fallen down on the floor, but my father insisted there was no one there."

"I knew there was though," Graces whispered, clearly alone in her thoughts. "I knew there had been a man and a green light. I wanted to look over my bed, but when I moved to do so my father climbed into my bed with me."

"My father never did that," Graces said looking Neville in the eyes. "He would let Draco and I sneak in his and mum's bed when we were frightened, but he never climbed into our bed. I think he was just blocking my line of vision from the edge of the bed. The man's body must have been just lying there."

Neville tried to imagine Lucius Malfoy climbing into a girl's pink bed. He didn't know the man that well, but it definitely didn't seem like something the Death Eater would do, unless he was indeed trying to hide something from his daughter's eyes.

"He told me I had a bad dream, and that I should go to sleep. Then he lifted his wand and tapped my head." Graces held her hand to where her father had charmed her to sleep, as though she could still feel it there. "When I woke up the next morning Draco and I were in our parents bed between them and they were holding hands across our bodies... That was odd as well. Don't get me wrong, my parents love eachother very much, but displaying affection like that is usually rare. Still, I didn't know for the longest time if what I remembered was real. Until I came to hogwarts and saw the carriages. I knew what a thestral was, so I knew the moment I saw them that what I always wondered was true."

"Did it frighten you?"

Graces frowned at the question.

"I don't understand."

"It didn't .. you know upset or frighten you that your father killed that man?"

"Why would that frighten or upset me?"

Neville shrugged, unsure of how that wouldn't frighten someone.

"It made me feel loved," Graces explained. "My father loves me enough to kill for me, and protect me from it."

Neville imagined his expression must have said exactly what he was thinking because Graces took a deep breathe before divulging more.

"My father has never been the outwardly affectionate type. He wasn't the kind of father to greet me at the door with showers of kisses and embraces. Even his time was giving sparingly..."

"I remember there was this one time period where I hadn't seen my father in a long time. He was never at breakfast, during the day he was at work, and then in the evenings he and my mother were either at some event that Draco and I were too young for, or my father was distracted all through dinner."

"I missed him." Graces gave a sad half laugh before continuing. "I missed him so much that I owled his secretary asked when his next lunch opening was and then sent him an invitation for a tea party three months in advance."

"You had to wait three months to have tea with your father?"

"No, no of course not. The next day when I came down for breakfast, I had the reply letter beside my toast. It said that he agreed to tea, but needed to change the date. Tea was changed to that afternoon. My father sat there the whole breakfast reading his paper, and I was just bubbling with silent excitement at the idea of having tea with him later. For the rest of the day I was just in a frenzy. I wanted everything perfect. I wore my nicest dress, asked my mum for the elf made china, insisted that there be four different types of biscuits, and decorated my room. My father even showed up in his nice formalwear. I think my mother must have told him about me wearing my party dress."

Neville snickered, unable to hide his amusement over Lucius Malfoy at a child's tea party. Graces smiled, and Neville could see emotion beginning to glisten in her eyes.

"It is silly, but you know... I'm a sixth year at Hogwarts and one of my best memories was my father coming to my tea party."

"So how was Lucius Malfoy at the tea party?" Neville asked playfully.

"Awkward," Graces scoffed. "He transfigured my tea party table so it was bigger, which upset me because I wanted to feel like a big girl, so he grudgingly transfigured it back. He must have been so bored, my father isn't one to hide that kind of emotion well, but I was just happy as can be. I told him all about my day, and mused about if Draco was going to let me play with his dragon figurines after know the normal four year old drama."

Graces face took on a sad expression, and Neville watched her on baited breath waiting for her to continue.

"I think of that day a lot," she admitted quietly. "Mostly of what my father said to me. He had been really quiet during the whole affair, but at one point he put down the tea and actually talked to me. He said that he wanted me to know, and always remember, that everything he did was for our family, for my future and that sometimes that required him to be away from me for a while."Graces sniffed and when as she continued to speak Neville could tell that she was straining over emotion in her throat. "He told me that every minute he was away he missed me, Draco and our mother, and that he thought of us always." A few tears escaped from her outer eyes, and Graces quickly wiped them away. "He's been so absent since the end of 4th year. I feel like I have not had my father they way I used to. Like he was being taken away from me, and now he is truly gone and... and I just keep thinking of him in a cell missing us."

"I'm sorry," Neville said gently taking her teared hand in his. "I can't imagine how much you must miss him."

Graces frowned at the statement.

"Don't you miss your parents?"

Neville blushed, and shook his head.

"You can't miss someone you don't know," he said quietly, turning on his back to face the ceiling not wanting to look at the girl next to him any longer. Graces waited for Neville to continue, but then realized that the boy laying next to her was not going to.

"But, surely you visit them, and—"

"I visit shells," Neville stated bitterly. "How can you know someone when they don't even know themselves?"

Graces laid in the hay quietly watching Neville. He seemed so deep in thought, she was afraid to breathe. She wondered what he was thinking of. Obviously, he was thinking of his parents, but she longed to know what he was thinking of them.

"Wha—"

"I really don't want to talk about it," Neville said briskly, turning back so he was almost nose to nose with her and brushing her hair behind her ears gently. "I just want to be here with you right now."

"I told you about my father," Graces protested, wanting to know more.

Neville gave her a small half smile. "Another time, I promise. Just not now."

"Why don't you tell me things about yourself?" Graces frowned pensively.

"Graces, I—"

"No, I- I've noticed things," she maintained sitting up, putting her arms around her chest to hide herself. "You never talk about yourself."

Neville leaned up and stared at Graces for a moment.

"Are you saying you want to know me?"

Graces blushed and gave some sound of exasperation before excusing herself to put on some clothes.

"I rather like you without clothes," Neville called as Graces shut the stall door and threw him his clothes in response. Rolling his eyes, Neville dressed. "Are you avoiding my question?"

Graces didn't answer and after a moment Neville gathered his Gryffindor courage and pulled her back in with him.

"Longbottom!" Graces shrieked, losing her balance and falling back in the hay with him. "I'm still getting dressed!"

"I'm being an ass," Neville proclaimed. Graces stopped her fussing immediately.

"Well, I like the start of this," she said, waiting for him to continue.

"I told you that all you had to do was ask." Neville sighed heavily and thanked the gods that Graces just held him tighter in response. "This is really hard for me. I don't talk about my parents. Most of my house assumes they are just dead, and I... I don't correct the presumption. Honestly, the only reason Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione know is because they went to St. Mungos and saw my parents last christmas."

"They saw your parents?" Graces asked astonished. "What did they say?"

"Nothing," Neville said quietly. "I think they understood I didn't want them to know about it, so it would be best of them to not bring it up."

Neville waited for Graces to have more of a reaction than just a pensive stare, but when none came he continued.

"I don't talk about them. Not to anyone, and if I am being honest I don't really allow myself to truly divulge my feelings about them. You asked if I ever miss them; the simple answer is I don't."

"And the more complicated one?"

"I miss the people I imagine that they used to be everyday."

"And the people they are now?"

Neville looked away, and swallowed some sea of emotion that was gathering in himself.

"Graces, believe me when I say that I want to talk to you about this. That there is no one else I would feel comfortable divulging this to, but right now I can't. I'm not ready. When I said all you had to do was ask if you wanted to know something, I meant it. I just...I... I didn't" Neville let out a deep sigh. "I didn't think it would be this hard. This has nothing to do with you, I want to talk to you. I personally am the one who isn't ready. Can we please change the subject?"

To Neville's immense relief, Graces nodded her head. He kissed her softly on the head, thanking her for being understanding and held her close as they laid in the hay. They laid there in the barn for a few hours neither saying anything, just lazily drifting in their own thoughts. Neville was just starting to nod off when Graces asked.

"How are you planning on dealing with your friends?"

"Just talk to them tomorrow I suppose," Neville murmured, closing his eyes again to let sleep claim him. Unfortunately, Graces was not going to allow that.

"Talk to them?" She asked scandalized, sitting up. "What do you mean talk to them?"

The sandy haired boy groaned, but sat up in the hay.

"I mean—you know—talk to them. Let the apologize, and then forgive them."

Graces was looking at Neville as though he had just declared his love for Snape.

"You're not going to hex them, or anything?"

"Why would I do that?" Neville asked patiently, causing Graces to go a little pink in the face from frustration.

"Because they were total wankers and they deserve it!"

Neville laughed heartily at Graces venomous announcement.

"They are!" Graces wined. "Longbottom, can't we hex them?"

"Oh, so it's we now?" Neville snickered.

Graces smiled. "Well, you're not very used to the whole revenge aspect of life, so I am willing to offer my services."

"Are you now?" Neville asked, both his eyebrows raised in mock surprise.

"Yes," Graces nodded enthusiastically. "This is going to be sooo much fun. I was thinking we could make Ron throw up slugs again. Do you remember first year when that happened? It was glorious! I've always wanted to have Weasel do it again! And for Scarhead we could—"

"I'm not going to let you hex my friends," Neville chuckled.

"Why?" Graces whined.

"Because they're my friends," Neville laughed.

Graces proceeded to pout on the subject, and Neville just smiled at how utterly adorable it was when Graces Malfoy pouted.

"I bet you always got what you wanted growing up," he commented, unable to hide how adorable he thought she was.

The blonde looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, before smiling.

"I'm a Malfoy, we always get what we want," Graces smirked, causing the both of them to laugh good naturedly. It was then that Neville saw her Malfoy-ness come back up. Graces awkwardly became aware of herself, and before Neville could distract her she had already began talking. "I better go, it's late."

"Do you? We could just stay here," he suggested, hoping that Graces would agree to stay the night with him.

Alas, the blonde awkwardly shook her head.

"No, I-I can't," Graces maintained, worrying her lip."I'll see you tomorrow. Good night."

She offered Neville a small, apologetic kiss on the cheek, and promised to see him the next day again before she swept out of the barn. Neville knew that he should probably leave to, that he should go back to the castle and climb into his own bed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wasn't ready yet to see his friends, and he would much rather lay in Graces' makeshift bed and enjoy her familiar scent around him.


	23. Chapter 23

"How was your day today?"

Graces looked over at her brother. He looked so worn these days. The childishness that had once played along his face was gone, replaced with the shadowed look of a man that had an ocean of woes.

"It was a day." She shrugged, looping her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder as they strolled along the sleeping castle, attending to their prefect duties, a content hum musing from her as Draco placed a hand over hers while they walked arm in arm. Graces loved this part of her day, the part where her and Draco could be alone together. These days there was usually a lack in conversation, but both her and Draco enjoyed the comfortable silence and the unspoken words just fine.

"I never did thank you for doing so much of my homework," Draco said quietly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Graces said innocently, "You did your homework, remember? We were originally going to study in the library, but you wanted to study away from so many people so we found an abandoned classroom and worked there. That's why you and I have been absent so much from the common room."

"Oh, yes that's right," Draco chuckled, playing along with Graces' story and giving her hand an affectionate squeeze. "How I ever could forget is beyond me. If I keep going on like this people will start calling me Longbottom."

Draco was so busy laughing at his own joke, he didn't notice the uncomfortableness it caused his sister.

"Did I tell you I pruned a fanged Geranium the other day?"

Draco frowned and looked down at his sister, clearly examining her face for some hint of this being a joke. After finding none, his eyebrows went up and he had a faint hint of delighted surprise to his voice.

"I'm impressed. I honestly thought there would be no way for you to pass that part of the class. How did you manage it?"

"Longbottom," Graces shrugged coolly. "He's very talented in Herbology."

There was silent for a moment as the strolled along the corridor, their steps echoing off the stone walls.

"How did Longbottom help you?" Draco asked frowning.

Graces casually told him about the situation, making sure to keep out anything that would give Draco the slightest hint that her and Neville were involved, but glancing at his face to see his reaction to Neville's finer points.

"I suppose even a maggot has use for something," Draco sneered, pulling Graces tighter to himself.

"He did save my life," Graces reminded, still maintaining an indifference in her voice.

"You are in more danger now than ever because of him and his friends," Draco muttered darkly, thinking of the ministry and their father being gone. "Fucking blood traitor. I hate that you have to tutor that idiot."

Graces, realizing that bringing up Neville was a mistake, quickly changed the subject.

"Speaking of tutoring, I was wondering if you could tutor Nott in potions."

"Nott?" Draco asked in surprise. "Why would I need to tutor Nott? He's very skilled in potions."

"Well, apparently he needs some help." Graces shrugged. "He asked me if I could aid him, but unfortunately I don't have much time these days."

"When did he ask you? I don't recall him ever asking you that."

"He approached me after dinner in the halls yesterday."

"Alone?"

"Yeah, he asked me when I was walking to tutor Longbottom."

Draco sent a sideways look at his sister. There was something too casual in her voice, and while he liked to believe the matter was this simple he had an odd feeling that there was something she wasn't telling him.

"What's going on with you and Nott?"

"Nothing," Graces lied cooly. "I just don't want to be around him."

Draco, remembering his last conversation with Nott, scowled.

"You would tell me if he was doing anything right?"

"Doing anything?" Graces repeated questioningly.

Draco growled in frustration, and moved away from Graces embrace so he was standing in front of her both hands on her shoulders and looking her directly in the eye.

"Don't. Don't you dare play coy with me. If something is going on I want to know about it. I'm not a bloody idiot. I know that Nott is trying to get you back, and I realized he was trying to frighten you during that meeting. So tell me right now, is there more I should know?"

Graces knew by the look on her brother's face that all she had to do right now was tell Draco what Nott had done and he would storm into the dungeons and kill him. There was just this glint in his eyes and a tightness to his jaw that told her that he would gladly rip Nott to shreds. _Ripping Nott to shreds will only get him killed by the Dark Lord._

"It's nothing like that, Draco," she lied quietly. "He is just so pushy about us being together, and it makes me uncomfortable."

Graces tried for a face of innocence as Draco stared at her. After what felt like eternity, Draco stood up and moved out of her space, though he was still frowning and had this look of displeasure to him.

"You are not to be alone with Nott, no matter what the circumstances. Do you understand me?" Graces nodded, and made sure not to smile or show any signs of pleasure at the order.

"You don't think you are over reacting a bit?" she asked, wanting to maintain a perfect facade.

"Nott has changed a lot since his father was sent to Azkaban," Draco whispered darkly. "I don't know if he is dangerous, or just playing the part, but I don't want you around him until I know for sure."

"What makes you think he is dangerous?" Graces asked, still tempted to divulge to her brother what had really happened with Nott.

"Just the conversation we all had together mostly," Draco admitted grudgingly. "Still, I don't want you two alone together."

Graces nodded her head in agreement. "Of course, Draco. Whatever you say," she said hollowly.

"It's just to be safe," Draco gently reassured. "There's no need to be frightened. I just... I just want to be sure."

Slowly, Graces nodded her head, keeping her wide eyes on her brother's matching pair.

"I need to go," Draco said somberly. "It's late, you should go to bed."

"I could go with you," Graces suggested hopefully.

Draco gave her a sad smile and pulled his sister into him. Holding her tightly against his chest as he kissed the top of her head. "Absolutely not."

Graces stood in the empty hall, watching her brother leave, trying to decipher how she felt. She knew what her brother was leaving to do, and though she did not know any of the specifics, she wondered if he was going to be able to do it. At the beginning she had felt an array of emotions about her brother's task: fear, horror, worry, anxiety, misery, and a very present sensation of hopelessness. But now, she didn't feel any of that. She just felt... numb.

It was an empty sort of numbness. Not like the kind of numbness you get from a few good stiff drinks, where your mind let go of what was going on and you eventually fell asleep. It was the sort of lack of emotion that you have to acknowledge, because it felt like a void inside your soul. Immediately she began to think of Neville, wanting him with her.

She had seen him earlier in the day during class and they had talked a little, but that was sadly the extent of them seeing one another. He had asked if she wanted to meet, and while she did, she had declined. It wasn't that she was trying to run away from him, it was just that she needed a little time to gather herself. Neville had this ability of getting her to talk, and that was beginning to become more and more out of hand. She had told him yesterday that her father had killed someone. And it wasn't even until she had woken up the next morning that she realized what she had done.

She had never told another living soul about that night. Draco wasn't even aware. Draco who shared her blood. Draco who she loved unconditionally. Draco who she would gladly give her life for. She had kept this secret since she was a child from her own brother, and yet she had told Neville all the details of that night with only a moments pause. She didn't even want to think of what kind of betrayal that was on her father.

_I'm a poor excuse for a daughter,_ Graces thought morosely, her numbness starting to disappear as a guilty sinking feeling began to well inside her stomach. _Dear Gods above, just don't let me be a poor excuse for a sister._

The echoing of another person's steps awoke her from her thoughts. Not wanting anyone to see her so late out past her rounds, she moved to behind a suit of armor. She had expected to see Flinch or even one of the other professors prowling the halls, and her heart gave an excited leap when she saw a head of familiar sandy hair.

"Longbottom?"

Neville, startled, turned to face her clasping his hands over his mouth.

"Grasheesh?"

Graces stepped out from behind the armour, frowning at Neville's odd behavior.

"What are you doing?"

"Uh..."

"Why are you covering your face like that?" Graces was now moving forward with her hand out stretched as though to take Neville's hand away. Neville; however, seemed very determined not to allow that and he quickly moved away from her.

"Naw- naw- naw. I hine."

"I don't even know what you are saying," Graces said irritatedly, still moving to take his hand away from his face.

"I hine," Neville stressed, still managing to keep Graces off him. Silently thankful he was taller, and a bigger build than her, but beginning to worry that she may use her wand.

"Oh, yeah?" Graces asked, now thoroughly annoying with the boy in front of her. "Then why won't you let go of your mouth?" When that didn't work, she made an indignant noise and took out her wand. "Okay, Longbottom, last chance to remove your hand yourself."

Graces watched as Neville turned a deep shade of maroon. He obviously didn't want to tell her what was going on and she felt herself becoming more and more enraged as the time ticked by. She was just about to turn and go, leaving an empty threat, when Neville slowly removed his hand. Graces, despite herself, gasped at what was revealed. Neville's two front teeth were elongated past his chin and they were twisted around themselves in what looked to be very painful. It looked like Neville wasn't even able to close his mouth. Closing it looked like it would pose the risk of damaging his lower lip or chin. After a moment of shock, she slowly started to regain herself, and a whole different kind of rage began to set in on her.

"Who did this?" she asked darkly, tightening her grip on her own wand.

"O on," Neville stated hurriedly.

"Oh, so you just woke up in the middle of the night and your teeth were like that? They just started growing and twisting with no aid from anything?"

"Ot exacly..." Neville said coyly, his hands now back over his mouth. Graces persisted in her glare, waiting patiently for him to continue. "I id it ta iselb." The look on Graces face must have said it all because Neville quickly added what could only be contrived as the word accident onto his poor explanation.

"Did a spell backfire?" Graces asked, hoping that Neville wasn't stupid enough to be playing with his teeth. When Neville tentatively shook his head she felt something inside her snap.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING!" Graces shrieked, losing all of her composure as she took her wand and hit Neville over and over again on any part of him she could reach. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW DANGEROUS THAT KIND OF STUFF CAN BE! HAVEN'T YOU EVER HEARD OF NERVE DAMAGE! IF YOU'RE TEETH WOULD HAVE WENT UPWARDS AND NOT DOWNWARDS YOU COULD HAVE RUINED HALF THE NERVES IN YOUR FACE! IMAGINE DRINKING AND STUFF ALWAYS COMING OUT OF YOUR NOSE! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS TO YOURSELF AND-"

Graces ceased her ranting at once when she noticed a shadow dancing along the corridor walls. She turned to see Mrs. Norris staring at her. The cat's yellow canary eyes staring at her maliciously, clearly proud of finding her and Neville in such a predicament. Graces knew that where Mrs. Norris was Filch wasn't far behind, so in an instant of panic she took her wand out and before the cat could dart down the hall for her owner she exclaimed, "Stupify!"

Neville was now making some noise behind her that sounded like he was asking if she was insane, mad, and a few other things, but Graces just pocketed her wand cooly.

"Sorry? What's that? Can't seem to understand you, sorry," she chided with a smirk. Neville stopped his rant, and just glared silently at the girl before him.

"Longbottom," Graces whined, "we would have gotten caught. It's an annoying cat anyways."

"Ow e eally are oing oo be in ouble," Neville moaned.

"Only if we get caught," Graces retorted, beginning to run away from the scene as she heard the footsteps of Filch approaching.

Neville, not wanting to be anywhere near when Filch found his beloved cat stupefied in the hall, quickly joined Graces in her flee, however he wasn't nearly as fast, from a combination of the shape he was in, and him holding his hand to his mouth. He was immensely grateful though that Graces, upon noticing this, just laughed and grabbed at his arm pulling him forward with her. Soon they could no longer hear Filch in the distance using a rather large assortment of curse words, that both Graces and Neville guessed were directed at them. It seemed just to amuse Graces more, though she did not stop her running to enjoy the names that Filch was calling. After a few sharp twists and turns both students ended up barging through an empty classroom door.

Neville clutched at the stitch in his side and leaned against an empty desk, while Graces continued in her laughter.

"I always wanted to hex that cat!" she giggled. "Did you see Filch's face? It was glorious! He really had no idea what was going on! Good thing he didn't see much of us! I think he would kill up both if he knew. That was so much fun! We should hex his cat more often!"

Neville, still leaning on the desk, looked up and gave Graces an 'are you mad' look, that didn't really help her little fit. Upon seeing his face still messed up from his teeth Graces gave a rather undignified snort and proceeded clutching her sides, now laughing at him. Neville quickly put his hands up against his mouth, and was about to turn and leave when Graces held his arm.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she apologized, still laughing. "You must admit though, it is a little funny."

Neville blushed, but made no attempt to move away.

"Sit down," Graces ordered, smiling. "I can fix this for you."

Neville was a bit skeptical at allowing Graces to fix his teeth for him. Not because he was worried about her skill, but because he was worried about her seeing. Graces, seeming to sense this, put on a more somber expression.

"I promise I won't laugh again," she vowed, patting the seat, gesturing for him to sit next to her. "Come on, Longbottom, let me help you."

Neville, deciding that he couldn't possibly embarrass himself any further, took the seat. He could feel the heat of his embarrassment rise up along his collar and spread throughout his neck, but he tried to maintain as much dignity as possible while he waited for Graces to proceed. The blonde took her time examining his mistake. She nudged parts of his gums with her wand, poked his teeth here and there, before eventually giving a confirming nod to herself and tilting his head back.

"I'm going to numb you, but it will still probably hurt," she informed, rolling up her sleeves. "First I am going to untwist your teeth, that is going to be the most painful of the procedure, then I will shrink them back to size."

Neville gave a short nod, and Graces moved so that she was standing over his lap. For a brief moment Neville thought of a completely different scenario with Graces standing over him like this, but that fantasy was ripped to shreds when he felt his teeth begin to unhook from one another. He was so surprised by the pain that he hadn't even realized that he had reached out both hands and was clutching Graces' hips.

"This is what happens when you don't see a healer," Graces sang, before continueing to mutter the incantation to untwist Neville's teeth. "Really, Longbottom, how could you have thought for one second this was a good idea. You really were being daft. You're lucky I am not my father. When Draco and I did silly things like this to ourselves our father would insist we stay that way for a week, or that whatever injury we caused upon ourselves was to heal the muggle way, just to teach us a lesson."

Neville groaned as she untwisted his teeth closer to the base, but Graces just continued on.

"Draco, I think, got the worst of that rule. I'm sure as a guy you can guess why."

Neville frowned unable to think of a reason why him being a guy would make that rule worst, and then it suddenly dawned on him. Suddenly the pain he was feeling from Graces fixing his teeth didn't seem nearly as bad. The blonde, sensing where his thoughts were, giggled softly.

"Yeah, I suppose it could always be worse," Graces mused. "I would have been much more angry with you, had you spelled yourself in that particular area. Definitely would have put a damper on our fun, now wouldn't it?"

Neville physically cringed at the suggestion, but Graces just continued to laugh.

"Okay, they are now separated," Graces proclaimed, examining her work and moving so that she was now sitting right above his knees, one leg on each side of him. "I need to shrink them now, so keep your head facing straight and even. This shouldn't hurt at all really, just feel uncomfortable."

Neville nodded, but his thoughts were very far away from his teeth. Graces, on the other hand, seemed completely absorbed in what she was doing. She was muttering incantations after incantation and had a small frown as she hunched down to have a better view of Neville's mouth. Neville should have been feeling quite awkward with Graces paying so much attention to his mouth, but he didn't. He was too busy admiring her talent at healing to be thinking of the awkwardness of the situation.

Neville imagined Graces could be many things. She was smart, talented, charming, and had enough money and power to allow her into any profession, but it was so obvious she was destined to be a healer. It wasn't just the talent that made it obvious, it was the way she worked towards the goal and how her face lit up whenever she had the opportunity to practice her healing skills.

"I think I got it," Graces smiled, placing her wand back in her robes and taking out a small compact mirror for Neville to see.

Neville smiled and looked into the mirror, but immediately was disappointed. Graces had returned his teeth to exactly how they had been before.

"Is something wrong?" she asked worriedly.

"No, no, everything is fine," Neville assured, giving her a small smile. Graces didn't return the smile, she just sat looking confused.

"They're exactly as they were before," she pointed out, ignoring Neville's smile.

"They are," Neville confirmed, kissing her on the cheek in thanks.

Graces sighed at Neville's response. "If you tell me what it is, I can fix it."

Neville sat there for a few moments debating whether or not he wanted to tell Graces what it was he wanted, but after some internal debate decided to say it.

"I... I don't like my teeth..." he said quietly, pinking a little from how vain it sounded out loud. "I had tried to fix them myself, but... as you saw, that didn't work out."

"I see," Graces said slowly, now narrowing her eyes at him. "Is this about what your friends were saying? Or what Nott said?"

"No, it's because I don't like them." Graces gave Neville a sceptical look. "It really is because I don't like them. I've wanted them fixed for some time now."

"Have you?" Graces asked suspiciously. "And yet, here you are in your 6th year at Hogwarts, patriarch to your family, and you have never seen a healer to cosmetically alter them."

Neville blushed, and looked upward. "It's complicated," he muttered.

"I'm a smart girl," Graces quipped coldly. "Explain it."

"My Gran likes them as they are," Neville murmured quietly. "It reminds her of my father."

"I've seen photos of your father; when our mother was telling us about your family." Graces admitted. "He was very handsome, perfect teeth."

Neville raised an eyebrow at the girl sitting on his lap, not sure how he felt about her pointing out his father was _very_ handsome.

"He was..." Neville acknowledged slowly. "But his teeth were not always perfect. He didn't get them spelled till he was a first year."

"Then why weren't yours fixed first year?"

"My gran wouldn't let me," Neville shrugged. "As you probably realize I don't favor my father in looks; I favor my mother. I think my gran wanted me to keep my teeth as they were because it was the one thing about me that reminded her of him."

"And you just went along with this?"

"She lost her son," Neville sighed. "I can't imagine how much pain that would cause... I just wanted to ease some of that grief. I think she had always hoped that I would be like my father, a way of having him back, but I've disappointed her. I'm not really anything like my father. Keeping the teeth was the one thing I could give her."

"I'm sure you have not disappointed her," Graces argued, not at all liking the things she was hearing.

"I have," Neville said patiently.

"She seemed proud of you in the newspaper article about the ministry came out," Graces frowned.

"She was very proud of me," Neville nodded. "She said I was finally starting to act like my father's son, but she made it very obvious it was only a start. She expects a lot more from me than a few hours fighting at the ministry. She wants me to-"

"Uphold the family honor," Graces deadpanned, remembering a howler Neville had received earlier in the year.

"Errr, yeah," Neville blushed.

"So why now?" Graces continued. "Why change your teeth now? Don't you still want to make your gran happy?"

Neville leaned back in his seat and evaluated Graces for a moment before answering.

"I do," he started slowly, leaning his chin down so he was eye level with the girl in his lap. "I care very deeply for my gran. She's done a lot for me, and I know it couldn't have always been easy. But I feel it is time for me to be my own man, and stop allowing myself to live in my father's shadow. As much as I love her, I've decided I can't spend the rest of my life trying to please her."

Neville sat there trying to figure out what Graces was thinking. She had yet to make any comments about the information he had given her, instead she sat in silence, her face devoid of any emotion, staring at him. It took all of Neville's willpower not to fidget, but eventually it paid off and Graces took her wand out of her robes.

"Look forward and don't move," she ordered.

Neville did as he was told and only flinched once as his two front teeth were being pulled together. After that initial procedure was finished it only took Graces a few seconds to shorten his front teeth. He had thought that she would have stopped there, but the blonde continued muttering spell and after spell straightening the rest of Neville's teeth all the way back to his molars. Neville watched as she seemed to be scrutinizing every tooth in his mouth, before nodding her head and holstering her wand in her robes.

"Have a look," she said, handing Neville the silver emerald jeweled compact.

After a few moments of fiddling with the compact, Neville finally had it open and Graces sat patiently back waiting for the results of her hard work. She was not disappointed, Neville smiled widely at seeing his perfectly aligned teeth. And Graces, despite herself, couldn't help but flush when he turned his smile towards her.

It wasn't as though Neville's smile hadn't affected her before. On the contrary his smile was one of the first things she ever noticed about him, but now rather than his smile just being something she enjoyed because of the warmth it held, it added something to his face. Leaving the result not just handsome, but-

_Sexy, hot, roguish, dashing. Need I go on?_

Graces took a deep breath and suddenly became very aware of how she was seated on Neville. She awkwardly cleared her throat and moved her hair behind her ears. She was about to make to subtly move off Neville, so she was no longer straddling him, when the Gryffindor pulled her close to him and kissed her.

"Thank you," he whispered against her mouth, both his hands wrapped in her hair.

"You're welcome," she breathed, forgetting why she wanted to move in the first place.

"You were distant today," Neville murmured, his forehead resting on hers.

"Was I?" Graces asked, her voice to high to sound casual.

"You know you were," Neville said sadly, pulling her closer breathing her in. "Is it because I forgave my friends?"

"No," Graces reassured, closing her eyes and letting Neville hold her. "Nothing like that. Though I still think you just forgiving them and acting like nothing happened is stupid."

"Then what is it?"

Graces continued to keep her eyes closed, as though not seeing that Neville could make things easier for her. She could feel the guilt swirling in her stomach and the unsteady beat of her heart hammering in her chest.

"Are you going to tell?" she asked, her voice smaller than what she intended.

Neville frowned against her forehead.

"About us? Of course not."

"No," Graces quivered. "about my dad."

There was a ringing silence as Graces waited for Neville's response and she could help but feel panicked at the lack of one.

"I'm sorry, Graces, but I don't know what you are talking about."

"I-I told you about my father killing a man," Graces rasped, trying to speak over the lump in her throat. "Are you going to tell?"

She felt Neville move away from her, but couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. She was too frightened. Neville was a good guy, and she wanted to trust him, but he was a Gryffindor. Gryffindors tended to have a very set moral compass, one that always said killing was wrong. Something like this would ruin her father's chances at an appeal, or worst get his sentencing from a life in Azkaban to a dementor's kiss.

"Graces, look at me." Graces didn't want to. Right now the only thing keeping her together was closing her eyes tightly. She felt Neville place a gentle hand on her cheek, and she opened her eyes despite herself. "I would never betray you like that. What you tell me about yourself, and your family is always going to be between you and me."

"But he killed someone," Graces pointed out. "Doesn't it go against your Gryffindor code to keep that a secret or something?"

"Yeah, well, I think I am already breaking that code sleeping with a Malfoy," Neville joked warmly. "You know the whole point of that necklace was so you wouldn't worry," Neville reminded.

Graces bit her lip for a moment and pulled at the chain around her neck until the pendant was in her hand.

"I still feel like an awful daughter for telling you," she whispered quietly, playing with the pendent so the light shined in the sparkling dust.

"You're not," Neville promised. "Now, if you told Hermione, Ron, or Harry then yeah that would put you in the running for being an awful miserable excuse for a daughter, but as it is now, you're good."

Graces laughed and didn't even put up a fuss when Neville pulled her into himself. She simply laid her head down in the crook of his neck and held him back. Allowing herself to feel safe with him.

"Did you talk to your brother about Nott?" Neville asked, his words muffled as they were said against her neck.

"Yes, it's taken care of. Draco will tutor Nott, and he had forbidden me to be alone with him. Which means he will be telling Nott he is not to be with me without a chaperone as well."

"And it's just that easy?" Neville asked skeptically.

"Yep, that easy."

"I don't think-"

Neville's sentence was cut short by Graces' lips capturing his, making him forget all about Nott for a brief period of time.

"It's taken care of," she whispered pulling away.

Neville, his head swimming from the kiss, agreed and began gently kissing Graces again, letting his hands wander at the sides of her legs.

"It's late," Graces argued, as Neville began nibbling at the base of her throat.

"So?" Neville asked, beginning to unfasten the first few buttons of her blouse.

"You take to long," Graces giggled, pushing Neille away, but making no attempt to move off him.

"Well if that is your complaint, I am very glad," Neville chuckled, grinding his hips forward so that his length was right between Graces legs.

"We have class tomorrow," Graces retorted, though Neville had a hard time taking her statement seriously as she had moaned it and had started moving her hips so that she was now rubbing against him.

"Well then," Neville began, moving her panties to the side and thrusting himself between her velvety lips hissing with pleasure as Graces soft core surrounded him. "I shall make sure you are well rested."


	24. Chapter 24

Neville could not stop smiling into his porridge the next day at breakfast. Ever since he had snuck back into the dorms the previous night he had been reliving his time with Graces in the classroom. There was just something so erotic about seeing her on top of him like that. Rising and falling around him, biting her lower lip as her breathing became more and more uneven, her fingers digging into his shoulders and soft moans eliciting from her as she continued moving herself so that she was enjoying him. Neville never thought he would see a beautiful woman enjoying him the way Graces did last night. It wasn't that Neville thought she didn't enjoy him the previous times, she most definitely had, but it was watching her enjoy him with no real actions on his part. Graces had had complete control and all he really had to do was sit back and enjoy the lovely view before him.

It hadn't started off so well. Graces seemed to be a bit bashful about having complete control, and the first few minutes was just kissing, with absolutely no movement on Graces' part. It wasn't until Neville decided to place his hands on her hips and guide her motions that it seemed she began to understand the new dynamics. But after that, and a few awkward movements here and there, the blonde quickly got the hang of it. And Neville definitely didn't take too long that time. Graces didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, much to Neville's annoyance, she seemed disturbingly proud over the situation, causing him to feel this need to prove himself and them going at it again.

"You seem awfully happy this morning," Hermione commented over her morning pumpkin juice.

"I guess I am," Neville said, realizing how odd he must have looked smiling into his porridge.

"So what's the news?"

"News?"

"Why are you so happy?"

"Oh yes, that... uh... I..." Neville racked his mind trying to think of an actual reason for him to be behaving in such a manner and, unfortunately for him, was drawing a blank.

"Is it a girl?" Lavender teased, holding onto Ron's arm tightly and placing her head on his shoulder. Hermione made an indignant noise, but Lavender just continued on smiling. "You're smiling like it's a girl."

"What?" Neville squeaked, now desperately trying to think of something. "No, no. Of course not. I just ... well... I was happy -am- happy because... because...becauseProfessorSproutofferedmeanapprenticeship."

"You're kidding!" Hermione cheered. "Neville, that's wonderful!"

Neville blushed at Hermione's excitement for him.

"Thanks, I'm really excited for it. She said I just needed to continue doing well and it was mine."

"That's really great, Nev," Harry smiled.

"Yeah, that's really wicked, but is that what you want to do?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, I really like plants. I think I would rather enjoy being a herbologist. Gran won't be thrilled, but I'm excited."

"We should have a little celebration tonight," Seamus declared nudging Neville's arm with his shoulder.

"I have a bottle of firewhiskey in my trunk," Dean offered, sending a sideways glance at the staff table to make sure Professor McGonagall was still seated.

"Yeah, I think I have another tutoring session with Malfoy, but after would be great."

"Merlin, doesn't that girl have a life?" Ron exclaimed. "I swear she works you like a dog."

"I ask her for the sessions," Neville shrugged. "I just have a hard time without her help."

Ron muttered something impolite about Malfoys, and then his dorm mates proceeded in discussing how the celebration would unravel in their dorm room that night until Lavender started pouting because she wanted to be apart of it, and then it was moved to the common room. Which lead to the conversation of Neville's celebration becoming a house party.

Neville blushed as his roommates discussed the epic party that would be thrown that night in his honor. He knew that they were mostly doing this to make up for their hurtful comments, but he appreciated that they were making an effort all the same.

"Neville, your teeth!" Hermione shrieked excitedly, noticing the perfectly aligned smile Neville was wearing.

"Hermione," Ron whispered disapprovingly. "Leave the poor bloke alone about his teeth."

"They're fixed," Hermione pointed out irritatedly.

Neville blushed as all the eyes around the table were now staring at his mouth.

"Come on, Nev, give us a smile," Parvati giggled as Neville had closed his mouth at the attention.

Tentatively Neville gave a small smile, all the while noticing that his dorm mates all had an extremely guilt-ridden look about them.

"They're even whitened," Hermione pointed out, inching closer to get a better look. "I wonder what spell you use for that."

Neville, who had no idea that Graces had whitened his teeth, blushed and looked over towards the Slytherin table. Unsure of how he should feel about Graces doing that for him.

"They look really great!" Lavender exclaimed, leaning up to get a better look. "Definitely an improvement."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron scowled, moving away from Lavender.

Lavender seemed completely perplexed as to why Ron was upset and was about to splutter through an explanation when Neville intervened.

"Thank you, Lavender," he said, pointedly looking at Ron who blushed and dropped the subject.

"What made you get them done?" Hermione asked, now leaning over the table while bending low to get a better look at his molars..

"Hermione," Harry chuckled, pulling the girl down in her seat. "I'm sure Nev here doesn't appreciate you practically crawling into his mouth."

Hermione blushed and muttered something about her parents and interesting.

"I just wanted them done," Neville said quietly, looking back down at his porridge.

"Did Pomfrey do them?" Parvati asked, frowning. "Because she told me that she under no circumstances would do any kind of cosmetic repair."

"Hermione had her teeth fixed by her," Ron reminded.

"Yes, well, she had been hexed, remember?" Lavender said, an edge of amusement in her voice. "Pomfrey asked Hermione to tell her when her teeth were back to their normal length, and Hermione just let her shrink them to where she wanted them. Guess she got sick of being called chipmunk."

Hermione's cheeks pinked a little, and she finally stopped examining Neville's teeth and became very interested in the book by her side.

"That's right," Neville nodded. "I seem to remember Krum very much enjoying your teeth, Hermione."

Hermione looked up clearly shocked that Neville would make such a blatant statement, but smiled as she saw Lavender shut her mouth irritatedly, and Ron seeming to become very interested in her.

"What do you mean enjoying her teeth?" Ron asked, moving away from Lavender and staring at Hermione.

"I mean he was giving them quite a thorough examination after the ball if I recall," Neville laughed, a bit surprised with how he was holding such a conversation with his friends.

Ron looked like he was about to ask Hermione about her affairs with Krum, but Hermione quickly changed the subject placing it back on Neville.

"So, _did_ you ask Pomfrey to fix them?"

"Uh... no," Neville blushed. "I sort of messed them up on my own, and yeah."

"How did you mess them up on your own?" Hermione asked, looking suspicious.

Neville nervously started playing with the back of his neck, before confessing that he had tried to fix them on his own. Hermione looked as though she were about to scold Neville for his actions when Seamus quickly intervened.

"Well, looks like we have two things to celebrate today then, huh Nev? You're apprenticeship and your new look," he winked. "I think that calls for a grander celebration, don't you all think?"

"On it," Ron proclaimed, taking out his inkwell and parchment and starting a letter listing supplies to his brothers to send. Everyone around the table was now giddy with the excitement of a party, while Neville's roommates all were putting their heads together plotting on how to ensure that that nights celebration would be the grandest the Gryffindor house had ever seen.

"You guys don't have to do this," Neville whispered awkwardly to the four boys currently bent over the parchment. "Really, it's not necessary. I know you all are sorry and-"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Seamus mused, pulling out a few coins from his pocket and handing them over to Ron. "We're just throwing you a party cause we're happy for you."

"It's not like you haven't ever done things for us," Harry pointed out, handing Ron his own pouch of coins. "We're just being good friends, nothing else to it."

Neville was about to argue, but Seamus threw a friendly arm over him. "Just let us do this for ya, mate. Trust me, we're going to be enjoying the celebration too, so don't be thinking we're all just being saintly."

Neville didn't exactly feel right about his friends making such a big fuss over him, and fiddled with his robes awkwardly.

"Let me at least pitch in then," he requested, going through his satchel to grab a few coins.

"Neville, if you take out a single knut I will hex you into the hospital wing," Seamus warned, brandishing his wand. Neville hesitantly complied, and was relieved when Seamus pocketed his wand and continued on with the planning.

"I'll tell you what you can do, Nev. Ask Malfoy if you can get out of working tonight," Dean ordered, after Ron and Harry had made a run for the owlery to owl Fred and George.

Neville rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He really didn't have a set plan to be with Graces that night, he had only been hoping to see her, but his friends were really making an effort and now he didn't feel like it would be appropriate to make plans with her for the evening.

"Yeah, okay. I'm sure she won't mind having her Friday night back," Neville deadpanned, already regretting that he wouldn't see Graces that night.

"Great!" Dean proclaimed enthusiastically, getting up to head to class. "This is going to be fun, Nev, you wait and see. Also, don't think you are going to be a wallflower this time, you are drinking, Mr. Longbottom, maybe we'll even find you a nice witch to snog in a corner."

Neville blushed scarlet at the suggestion. "Uh... I should go, umm, I'll see you all later," Neville said, clumsily grabbing his things and hurrying towards the main doors of the Great Hall. He got half way there though, before he turned around to find Ginny at the table.

"Ginny," he called over, getting the red heads attention. "You have classes with Luna. Could you invite her tonight?" he asked, ignoring the catcalls that were now sounding from his housemates.

"Yeah, sure, Nev," Ginny said, an amused smile on her face.

"It's not like that"

"Right, of course not."

"It's not," Neville continued, a bit flustered. "Just invite her, okay?"

Ginny nodded, an amused smile still on her lips. Neville rolled his eyes and muttered a thanks, a little miffed at the way Ginny didn't seem to believe him and hurried to herbology, excited to see the person he was interested already at their desk in the front of the room.

"Good morning," Neville said quietly, taking his things out of his bag.

"Good morning."

"You caused quite a commotion today at breakfast today," Neville commented offhandedly. Graces gave Neville a wary look and waited for him to continue. "Everyone was very impressed with my teeth."

"Oh, I was wondering what Granger was doing leaning over the table like that."

"I didn't think you were paying attention,"

"Unlike you Gryffindors, Slytherins have ways to pay attention without drawing attention."

Neville raised a curious eyebrow, which Graces ignored. She did, however, take out her small compact, the same one she had allowed Neville to use the night before, and began examining her eye lashes. Neville was about to ask her what she meant, when Graces began whispering to the mirror.

"Front entrance of the room, focus on the next person entering."

Neville watched as the mirror inside the compact showed the front entrance of the room, where Ernie had just entered. The mirror automatically began focusing on Ernie, it followed him as he went to his desk and began talking animately with Smith.

"Show me behind his back," Graces muttered, now pretending to check her lipstick. "And now show me Longbottom."

The mirror without any hesitancy quickly changed so that Graces was now looking at Neville's face, which was turning a violent shade of red the more she stared at it. Deciding to be merciful, she shut the compact and placed it back in her robes.

"Do you do that often?" Neville asked, unable to hide how uncomfortable he was.

"No," Graces scoffed, "can you imagine how ridiculous I would be if I was always staring into my compact."

"What about when you are alone?"

"It only works in the room it is in," Graces explained. "I can't ask it to look outside the room I am in."

"Were you spying on me this morning?" Neville asked playfully.

"Maybe," Graces replied quietly. "You seemed very happy this morning."

"I had a very good night," Neville reminded, his voice dropping suggestively.

Graces blushed at the reminder, and fidgeted with her hair eventually placing a lock behind her ear. It was then that Neville noticed something different about the girl standing next to him. Graces was always beautiful, she had a naturally elegant beauty to her, but today she looked different.

"You look... different today," Neville commented, still examining her. Graces seemed to blush even harder under Neville's observation and shrugged noncommittally as she began shuffling through her notes.

"Good different?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant about the situation, but not succeeding.

"You could never look bad different," Neville said warmly, reminding himself not to be too obvious in class and turning to fidget with his notes as well. "You always look beautiful, Graces."

"I put some lipstick on, I usually don't wear any, and I curled my hair and pinned parts of it back. So it's down, but isn't in my face." Graces seemed to be blushing as she told Neville all this, and he had a slight suspicion she had put the effort in for him.

"You look lovely," he complimented again. "I really like it."

Graces gave him a thankful smile, before pointedly looking away. Trying not to show how happy she was he noticed.

"Should we meet after dinner tonight? It's Friday so we can be out late," she pointed out, giving another look around the room to ensure no one was listening.

"I, uh, can't tonight," Neville mumbled awkwardly, as Graces head shot to him and she stared at him incredulously.

"You can't? Why not?"

"I-uh- sort of have a -well- a party to go to tonight..."

A flash of disappointment came across Graces face, before it hardened into something else. Neville at once recognized the signs that the girl was now miffed with him.

"Right," she clipped, taking a step away to distance herself from him.

"You're mad," Neville sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Please don't be angry, if I could be with you I would, but-"

"That's a load of rubbish," Graces hissed, folding her arms in front of her. "It's a party, you could very well be with me if you wished."

"It's a party being held for me," Neville explained, hoping that Graces would be a little more understanding now that she knew he was obligated to go.

"For you?" Graces frowned.

"Yeah, for me," Neville confirmed, glad that Graces' voice was not nearly as harsh and her frown was more questioning than angry.

"Why are they throwing a party for you?"

"Professor Sprout offered me an apprenticeship the other day," Neville grinned, unable to hide how proud he was of his accomplishment. His news however did not win him any kind of reward from Graces. The blonde stood there for a moment her face taking on a saddened look.

"You didn't tell me about that," Graces whispered, hurt evident in her voice.

Neville was about to explain how he really didn't have the chance/ he forgot about it in lieu of other things when Professor Sprout called the class to stood listening for a few moments as Professor Sprout explained their assignment with the snargaluff. Neville wasn't really listening though. He was too busy sneaking glances at the girl next to him to care about the pod in the stump. Graces no longer was wearing any kind of expression to give him any hint as to what she was thinking, and Neville inwardly groaned as he realized he had now crossed over into the danger zone with her.

"Please find another group to join for the assignment, and remember to be careful," Professor Sprout finished, as the room began buzzing with excitement.

Neville immediately turned to talk to Graces, but he was soon interrupted by Hermione and Hannah.

"Do you two have other partners yet?" Hermione asked, though she knew they didn't.

"Uh, no," Neville replied, looking over at Graces wondering if she was going to be okay with working with the two other girls.

"Great!" Hermione exclaimed. "We can all work together today."

Neville smiled and tried to seem enthusiastic, but Hannah and Graces both didn't even attempt to hide their displeasure with the situation.

Awkwardly the four of them began walking over to the stump. Neville made sure to stay near Graces though, not wanting her to be left out of the group, but knowing she would make no attempt to try and be included.

"Congratulations on the apprenticeship, Nev," Hannah said quietly, as they made their way over to the stump. "I'm really happy for you. You must be so excited."

"Thanks, I am," Neville admitted.

"Do you know what you would like to do?" Hannah asked, trying to make conversation, but clearly having a hard time talking with Neville.

"Teach, I suppose... though someone did suggest that I start my own business," Neville added, a quick glance over at Graces.

"I didn't know you were interested in business," Hermione commented, sitting down near the stump.

"I've been thinking of it a lot actually," Neville admitted. "I think I would be good at it, I do have a great interest in most of those sorts of plants. I could grow plants and sell them for medical potions."

"That sounds like a hard business to get into," Hermione pointed out.

"There isn't a lot of herbologist that have the skill to grow the plants, not to mention that most are unable to gain the land required for it," Graces said coldly. Hermione and Hannah stared at her, both awestruck that the blonde was engaging in a civil conversation with them. "If Longbottom here wasn't foolish to divide the Longbottom estate, he should have a good few acre of land in several different climates. Making it easy for him to grow different kinds of medicinal plants."

"How do you know so much about Neville's land?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

Graces stared at Hermione, her eyes calculating the girl before her. "Worried for your friend there, Granger?"

"Just seems like an odd thing for you to know," Hermione maintained, not faltering her position.

"Maybe all purebloods like to keep tabs on where blood traitors like Longbottom live," Graces said darkly.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Neville scoffed, not looking frightened in the least as opposed to Hermione and Hannah who both looked a little pale. "All that land is under the Fidelius Charm."

"Your gran's home isn't," Graces reminded, enjoying the frightened looks from the other two girls near her.

"It's her home, I don't own it. My grandfather bought it for her as a wedding gift," Neville said, now starting to examine the stump. "It's a tradition in our family for the husband to give his new bride a home. Everything is to be in her name, usually when the wife passes away it is willed to her children or in the case of none to the heir."

"So not all the Longbottom land is yours then? Just most of it," Hannah asked, now curious herself.

"No, it's all his, minus his Gran's house apparently," Graces said her eyes fixed on Neville. "Most of Neville's parent's generation was killed in the first war. Children and adults alike. Leaving their estates to Neville, as the only heir."

Neville was now no longer looking at the stump, but up at Graces.

"Tell me, Longbottom," Graces mused innocently. "What is it like to have your land grow and grow, with no fruit to grow from the soil?"

Neville understood what Graces was saying. His family wasn't prospering, they were dying off. He had plenty of land and estates, empty from the lack of Longbottoms to fill it. He supposed it was common knowledge among the purebloods that his family lineage fell heavily upon his shoulders, but he was surprised that Graces was bringing it up in such a manner.

_Why are you surprised? She wants to appear as enemies. What better way to make people think she hates you than to be this cruel._

"You offering to help me sow the land, Malfoy?" Neville challenged, amused with how shocked Graces looked at his response.

"No way in hell, Longbottom," Graces quipped. "I would rather die than bear a blood traitor's children."

Neville just shrugged and chuckled to himself, though it was clear Hermione, Hannah, and even Graces didn't find his sense of humor at all funny. Deciding they had wasted enough time as it was, Hermione insisted they get the pod from the stump. It proved to be surprisingly easy for the group, seeing as how Neville seemed to have no trouble at all holding most of the vines back. Hannah and Graces both were able to manage the rest of the thorn covered loins, while Hermione reached in and extracted the pod with ease. Despite their late start, they were the first to finish.

"You still upset with me?" Neville asked, when he and Graces returned to their desk alone.

"No," Graces admitted, not looking up from her hands as she healed a few cuts the snargaluff had managed to give her. "I believe you forgot."

Neville nodded, glad that Graces was no longer upset.

"Kind of a low blow bringing up my family like that," Neville continued.

"I was educating your friends," Graces shrugged. "If they are going to live in our world, they should understand it."

"I don't think they need to understand my personal business," Neville muttered, slightly embarrassed.

"Abbott should. She fancies you, after all. I would think that given her interest in you, she would have learned the expectations your family and you would have of any girl you chose to court seriously."

"Expectations..." Neville repeated.

"Yes, expectations. Should Abbott get what she wants I imagine she will have to bear you quite an absurd amount of children."

"Hannah is not going to be bearing any of my children," Neville said rolling his eyes.

"I don't think she is going to just give up." Neville sent a sideways glance over to Graces, who was now packing her things. "She was looking at you the whole time you were holding those vines down, she still fancies you." There was a tense silence as Graces allowed Neville to soak in that information before she hurriedly admitted to using Legilimency to read the girl's mind.

"You did what?" Neville hissed, offended on behalf of Hannah for having her mind invaded so.

"I didn't even need to do it to know what she was thinking," Graces whispered angrily. "It was so obvious! Her eyes were glued to you the whole time, and you should have seen her face when you made that rather stupid comeback of me helping you sow the land."

"Graces," Neville groaned. "You can't just invade people's minds like that."

"Why not?"

Before Neville could respond to Graces, Hannah was at over at the desk with them.

"Hi, Hannah," Neville greeted awkwardly, clearly unsure of why she was there.

Hannah nodded to the greeting and stood worrying her lip for a moment before speaking.

"You never responded to my note," Hannah said quietly.

Neville seemed a bit flabbergasted at the statement.

"I didn't think there was anything to respond to."

Hannah blushed, and looked away. Clearly inwardly frustrated with herself.

"You said you wanted to be friends," Neville reminded slowly.

"I do," Hannah insisted.

"Then—"

"I just want to talk about things," she revealed, her voice breaking slightly. "We used to talk more, and now... now we hardly speak. I thought you would at least try to talk to me after the note, but you... you didn't."

"Okay, Hannah," Neville said gently. "Don't be upset, we'll talk."

"Tomorrow?" Hannah begged. " At the three broomsticks? Alone?"

"I was going to be meeting my friends there tomorrow..." Neville said hesitantly but, at seeing how fast Hannah's face fell, quickly added. "We can meet beforehand though."

Hannah put on a relieved smile and reached out her hand to clasp Neville's, an act that had Graces' undivided attention as she waited for Neville to move his hand away. He didn't.

"This means a lot to me, Neville. I've really missed you," Hannah smiled angelically, "I'll see you tomorrow."

When Hannah was far away Neville started packing his own things, in the back of his mind wishing he was going to be having a drink with Graces at the three broomsticks. Finally he turned to Graces.

"Can I see you this weekend?" he asked, no longer caring that she had invaded his friend's mind.

"I don't know," Graces clipped coldly, bitterness clear in every syllable of her words. "Do you think you have time for me?"

"You're upset again," Neville sighed, not sure why she was upset. Graces didn't make any comment, but continued to ignore him."You know I'm not able to read minds like you. If you are upset you have to talk to me."

Graces didn't say anything, she just continued to stare forward hellbent to pretend that she didn't give a toss about anything with Neville, that she wasn't upset he was seeing Hannah after she had told him that she wasn't planning to give up on him, that she wasn't hurt that he allowed her to hold his hand. No, Graces Malfoy was set in her decision to not care.

But despite her decision to not care, she couldn't help thinking of Nott. Although Neville was different from the Slytherin boy in practically every way, she couldn't help but feel that she was in a similar situation with Neville as she was in her relationship with Nott. It seemed silly, but the more she thought about it the more discouraged she became. She had been with Nott because it was a respectable match. They both exhibited the qualities their parents had wanted in their spouse. But while both their families were happy with the relationship, Graces couldn't help but be distant and prudish towards the boy. She was willing to marry him and give him an heir, but she was not willing to give him anything physically until she was required to.

It was the opposite with Neville, she could give him what he wanted physically, but not all that he would need. Hannah, on the other hand, being a light witch from a respectable light family could give him all of that. What was left of his family would, undoubtedly, approve and Neville would be free to court Hannah and eventually marry her and try to salvage what was left of his line.

A big part of her wondered if Neville would eventually come to this realization and decide to do what was best for his family as a whole and pursue Hannah after all. Their relationship was doomed to end, and Graces wondered how much longer the physical aspect of it would matter to him. He could have that with Hannah if he chose, and she would give him much more in the future than herself.

_And you reminded him of his family obligation just today,_ a snide voice in her head reminded.

"Did you want to meet tomorrow? I can still see you aft—"

"No. I'm not mad because I had wanted to see you tomorrow," Graces hissed, glaring at him. "I'm not so pathetic that I don't have my own life. I have other things to occupy my time other than you."

"Okay, I'm sorry," Neville said defensively, realizing he hit some nerve.

"Have a good time with _Abbott_ ," Graces spat venomously as Sprout dismissed the class.

Neville at once rushed to catch up with Graces, realizing now what it was that she was upset over.

"Nothing is going to happen between me and Hannah," Neville whispered, trying to keep up with Graces fast pace. "Honestly, you have nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried," Graces clipped, making a sharp turn down another corridor.

"Surely, you realize I would never be unfaithful to—"

"You are not my boyfriend," Graces whispered angrily, stopping abruptly in the empty hall. "This is just a fling. You are allowed to see other girls and it not be considered unfaithful. You are free to do as you wish. Just as I am."

Neville huffed out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand. Clearly beyond frustrated with the blonde standing with him.

"Fine," he clipped, deciding that this was just another one of Graces' ridiculous moods and he should just walk away. "Let me know when you decide to put away your crazy."

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Neville had had a very, very long and exhausting day. A very long day that he was happy to drown in firewhiskey. He stood in the common room surrounded by his friends, continually drinking down as much of the amber liquid he could manage. Despite his resolution to not allow Graces' craziness to get to him, he had all day pondered what could have possibly made her so upset. Neville poured himself another glass of firewhiskey as he ran over the reasons that Graces Malfoy drove him insane.

"Having a good time here, Nev?" Ron asked, watching his friend pour himself a generous helping of firewhiskey.

"Grand," Neville muttered, taking a swig and turning to face Ron. "You?"

"Grand," Ron repeated, pouring himself a healthy portion of whiskey as well and raising his glass to Neville.

The two Gryffindors clinked glasses and emptied them in a matter of two swift movements.

"You want to talk about it?" Ron asked, filling his and Neville's glass again.

"Nope. You?"

"Nope." Neville looked over at his friend and saw Ron's eyes trailing over to Hermione.

"How's it going to with Lavender?" Neville asked, though he knew the answer.

"Great," Ron lied, tearing his eyes away from Hermione. "She's great, and you know what I like the most about her? She always says what she's thinking and what she wants. If she is mad at me, she lets me know. If she wants to go snog me in a corner she lets me know. Why can't all women be like that?"

Neville frowned into his glass and nodded along with what Ron was saying.

"Yeah," he said quietly, before nodding his head faster and proclaiming, very loudly, again. "Yeah! Why is it that we are just supposed to know what they are feeling?"

"We can't know!" Ron exclaimed, moving his hand grandly and spilling a bit of his drink. "And then when we can't figure it out, they get even more upset!"

Neville bobbed his head in agreement, and began pointing his finger towards his friend appraisingly indicating that he had just made a great point.

"That's true," he muttered, still brandishing his finger. "Why the bloody hell do they do that?"

"Hell if I know! They just love talking and pointing out your flaws, but heaven forbid they actually talk to you when they are the ones angry."

"Oh! And then when you make an effort to try and make things better they ignore you! It's like they already have an idea of how they want you to atone for your sins against them, but they refuse to tell you how!"

"They just want to kill us," Ron declared, turning to the table and making two strong shots for him and Neville. "Here's to life, mate."

"To life," Neville toasted, his head already swimming from his earlier drinks. The two of them tossed back the shots and let out a low hiss as the alcohol burned down their throats. After a few moments of silence, each boy hazily contemplating the girls in their life Ron turned to Neville.

"Did Hermione really kiss Krum?"

Neville eyed Ron for a moment, he had never heard him sound so tortured. How Ron was behaving earlier was more or less normal, but this vulnerability he was showing now was a little unsettling.

"Yeah, she did," he said quietly.

"Do you think he was a good kisser?" Ron continued, now back to looking over at where Hermione was.

"Looked like it."

Ron pursed his lips and turned, nostrils flaring, back to the table for another drink.

"If you want to kiss Hermione go kiss Hermione," Neville said exasperatedly, not caring that he was speaking out of place. Or that everyone was supposed to be ignoring the fact that Ron was head over heels for Hermione. "Stop snogging Lavender just because she is the easy one to snog."

"Did you just call my girlfriend easy?" Ron asked, getting up close to Neville's face.

"Didn't mean it like that," Neville protested. "I just mean that if you want Hermione you should go for it, no matter how hard or trying she can be. Better to snog a girl that drives you mad and you can't stop thinking of, than snog a girl who just makes you miss another."

"I never said I wanted to snog Hermione," Ron said stubbornly.

"Yeah, okay," Neville scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Ron scowled, and began to redden around his ears. "Yeah, well, who is it you're talking about?" he demanded.

"Just some crazy blonde," Neville muttered, taking the last swig left in his glass. "Some crazy hot blonde, that I would kill to be snogging right now." Neville then tilted his swimming head up and continued muttering aloud to the ceiling. "Hell, who am I kidding, I'd do a lot more than snog her right now, but she's much too ridiculous at the moment for such pleasantries."

Ron eyed Neville, and looked over to where Luna was talking to Harry. She was putting some kind of homemade necklace with butterbeer corks around his neck, but before he could ask if Luna was the crazy blonde Lavender was at his side giggling into his ear and leading him over to a darkened corner. He had at first tried to protest, saying he was speaking with the man of the hour, but Neville lazily waved him off saying he should go enjoy himself.

When Ron had disappeared behind some curtains, Neville's thoughts once again turned to Graces. Graces who threw fits and pouted like a child. Graces who insisted they were not together, despite their level of intimacy. Graces who told him earlier today that they were free to do as they wish with other people. With that thought in mind Neville turned and poured himself another glass.

"Why do people drink when they are upset?" Luna asked, as Neville slammed down his drink.

"Why are women crazy?" Neville retorted, about to pour himself another only to be stopped by Luna.

"How about a butterbeer instead," she offered, a sympathetic smile on her face as she handed Neville the bottle. Neville sighed and agreed, taking the drink Luna offered in hand.

"Is it Graces?" Luna asked, causing Neville to choke on his butterbeer and double over coughing.

"Why would you ask that?" he rasped, panic spreading through his veins as the light headed feeling of intoxication left him.

"You like her don't you? It seems like you like her. You're always looking at her, and you are exceptionally happy after tutoring with her."

"I don't like Gra—Malfoy," Neville lied, making sure to not look at all suspicious.

"Oh," Luna breathed, an air of disappointment in her tone. "That's too bad, I think she likes you."

"You do?" Neville asked, moving Luna to a corner where they could speak more privately.

"Yeah," Luna continued sadly, sitting down. Neville sat beside her leaning in as she continued. "I always see her in the girls bathroom on days she has herbology with you. She goes in and fusses with her hair in the mirror and sometimes she uses her wand and curls her lashes. She never used to do that sort of stuff before."

"That doesn't mean she likes me," Neville argued, though secretly he knew Graces was in fact doing that for him.

"Well there are other things," Luna mused. "Sometimes when you pass her in the hall, after she scowls at you, she looks as though wrackspurts got in her head."

"How so?" Neville, although he was still furious with the blonde, couldn't help but be secretly happy about what Luna was saying.

"Well, she usually has to ask whoever they were with to repeat what they had been saying, that's a big sign of wrackspurts, but it only happens after she passes you. I think it's pretty safe to conclude, that you distract her."

"Maybe she just enjoys scowling at me," Neville joked, a warm feeling of affection spreading through his chest as Luna continued saying reasons why she thought Graces liked him.

"That would explain the smile she has after," Luna grinned, before taking on a somber expression and holding Neville's free hand. "I won't tell, Nev. Sisters are supposed to keep their brother's secrets. I won't tell."

"There's nothing going on," Neville insisted, growing a little frustrated as Luna just smiled knowingly.

"There isn't," Neville repeated hastily, tearing his hand away from her. "We're not even friends. You should have heard what she said to me in Herbology today."

Luna stared thoughtfully at Neville, her big eyes seeming to look beyond him. Neville, wanting to get away from Luna's knowing stare, stood to get away from the girl, but ended up stumbling against a table of pastries instead. Neville felt his face flush with humiliation as the people around him began roaring with laughter, as he pulled his left arm out of the green frosted cake, punch soaking his clothes. He vaguely heard, among the laughter, Dean proclaiming loudly that the party was a success, and wondered if Dean's definition of a successful party was making him so pissed that he couldn't even walk.

"It's okay, Nev," Luna said gently, wrapping her arm around him and keeping him steady. "Let me help you to bed, hmm?"

Neville, not wanting to humiliate himself anymore than necessary, nodded his head and let Luna guide him up the stairs. Too embarrassed to even look up at his house mates around him. Though it did make him feel better when his dorm mates called out that they had all been there at least once, and it was high time he partook in the tradition of becoming utterly pissed at a party.

"I think I may be sick," Neville gagged, as they finally made it into the room.

"I think that would be best," Luna mused as Neville ran to the bathroom.

Luna, hummed to herself softly as Neville emptied the contents of his stomach. Realizing she was probably going to be there a while she hopped onto his bed to wait for his return. Absently, she fiddled with the objects on his nightstand, making sure to keep away from his mimbulus mimbletonia. She imagined the last thing Neville would need after getting sick was to have the plant's stinksap covering his bed. When she heard the sound of running water she decided it may be best for her to pull out some night clothes for her friend to wear.

Jumping off the bed, she went to Neville's trunk to search for some more comfortable attire. She had just pulled out a maroon Gryffindor shirt, and was looking contemplating some striped green pajama bottoms when she noticed a pair of black panties tucked into a corner.

"I am never drinking again," Neville moaned, flopping himself down on his bed, his dirty clothes clinging to his damp body.

"Why are you wearing your dirty clothes after you showered?" Luna asked curiously, taking out her wand and taking off the last remains of frosting from Neville's shirt.

"Didn't want you to see me in just a towel," Neville muttered, not moving his face from his bed.

"You could have just not worn your shirt," Luna pointed out, allowing Neville's answers to reveal more about himself.

"Guess I'm shy," Neville chuckled, his eyes still closed.

"Has anyone seen you naked?" Luna asked, shutting Neville's trunk and placing his fresh clothes by his head.

"Have you not seen the other four beds in the room?" he asked, with a snarky smile.

"Has a woman ever seen you naked?" Luna specified, now sitting on the bed next him flattening his wet hair down.

Neville's eyes immediately shot open, and he moved to out of reach from Luna on the bed. "You are not seeing me naked, Luna."

"I should think not," Luna frowned, "As your sister I shouldn't. But has the girl whose panties are in your trunk seen you naked?" Neville's eyes widened at the question, and he once again felt that feeling in his stomach that he was going to be sick. "Have you seen her naked?"

"Luna," Neville rasped, his heart now thudding in his throat. "How—"

"Are they Graces'? Did you make love to her?" she asked, as though this was something that wasn't a big deal in the slightest.

Neville turned to the side of his bed, and held his breath to stop himself from throwing up. This was a disaster. Once again his forgetfulness had caught up with him. He began shaking as he thought of the repercussions of this.

"No, of course not," he choked out, his voice vibrating like the rest of him. "They're... they're, well... they're mine. Yeah, they're mine."

"They look awfully small to be yours," Luna pointed out, her voice serene as ever as Neville's world just continued crashing down.

"That doesn't mean they are Malfoy's," Neville sputtered, closing his eyes as his world was now spinning out of control.

"It's okay if they are," Luna said gently, moving back over to Neville and taking both his hands in hers. "You don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying," Neville lied, trying to pull his hands away.

"I know you are," Luna said sadly. "I wish you didn't feel a need to lie to me."

"Luna, I'm not—"

Luna placed her finger on Neville's lips, so she wouldn't have to hear any more of his falsehood.

"You're all I have," she said quietly. "Just you and my dad. Please, don't lie to me. I'll keep your secret. I'll keep hers too, but don't lie to me. I know we don't share the same blood to bond us together, but we could share a strong trust that would do that all the same. Like Harry and Ron."

Neville said nothing as Luna removed her finger from his lips, but continued to stare at her. He didn't want to tell anyone about Graces. He felt like that was in some way breaking her trust, but at the same time Luna knew. He didn't understand how she knew, but she knew. If she already knew was it a betrayal to talk to her about Graces and his relationship? He had no inkling of a clue, and he was honestly too drunk to really even think about it.

"I'm falling in love with her," he admitted quietly, the silence of the room bearing down on him with Luna's stares.

"That's wonderful," Luna smiled, moving closer to him on the bed so they were sitting hip to hip.

"No, it's not," Neville sighed, putting his face in his hands. "It's bloody awful. Out of all the girls I could have fallen for I chose—"

"Smart, fiery, beautiful Graces Malfoy," Luna finished, a sweet smile on her face.

Neville groped for Luna's hand, completely overcome with emotion from the support he was being offered. He had expected to be told he was being foolish, stupid, suicidal, and acting as a traitor, he had never expected support. Somewhere in his mind he was reminded that this was Luna, and she had a tendency to see things differently, but he didn't care. All he cared about was that Luna was there for him, and she supported him. In that moment, she truly did become a sister to him.

"Thanks, Luna."

"Neville, you sound funny. Are you coming down with a head cold?" Luna asked concerned, putting her hand on his forehead.

"No, I'm great," Neville declared, taking Luna's hand away from his head.

"Why are you so upset about falling in love with Graces?"

Neville let out a heavy sigh and collapsed on the bed putting his hands over his face. He felt the bed dip beside him and peaked through his hands to see Luna doing the same.

"Does this help?" Luna asked, her voice muffled against her hand.

Neville reached over and put Luna's hands down. He stared at the ceiling for a few moments trying to figure out what to say. He had no idea how to put what bothered him about falling in love with Graces into words.

"It's not her family," Neville started, glad that Luna was so open minded when it came to people. "I could care less who she is related to. And it's not even that she is insane and refuses to admit that we are anything more than two people that ... well she refuses to admit we are in any kind of relationship. I can even look past the fact that she always has to have everything her way. That she has a temper, and throws tantrums like a spoiled child. I can even get past that she for some reason has never learned to communicate when she is actually upset, and instead pouts silently making me be the one to try to decipher her ever changing moods. But I can't stand how she pushes me away. I just can't. What am I going to do when I love her? How am I supposed to cope with her pushing me away when I am in love with her? Right now it hurts, and I only am falling for her. I feel like she isn't going to stop pushing herself away from me, until she can admit to herself that we are something and... and she's so bloody stubborn I don't know if that will ever happen."

Neville waited for Luna to say something, anything really, but she didn't. Instead she leaned up and awkwardly hugged Neville, as he laid on the bed. Luna didn't seem to find anything awkward about it, and just kept hugging him.

"Luna?"

"Does this make you feel better?" Luna asked, putting her head on his chest as she wrapped her arms more around him. "It's supposed to make people feel better."

"Uh, sure," Neville answered, patting Luna awkwardly on the back while praying none of his roommates walked in. There was a pregnant silence for a long period of time, with Luna continuing to hug him. "Are you going to offer me any advice?"

"No," Luna hummed simply. "People don't take advice they are offered, they usually do what they are going to do anyways, but I'll hug you any time you need one."

"Thanks," Neville said quietly, allowing himself to relax.

It was all short lived though, because as soon as he stopped worrying about someone walking in he heard the door open and Harry, Dean, and Seamus came stumbling in. Neville bolted up from his bed immediately, and groaned aloud as the three of them all started trying to pack themselves through the room's narrow doorway. Each muttering an apology to Neville and trying to avoid looking at him and the bed entirely.

"Nononononono, guys," Neville protested, not wanting anyone to leave the room thinking that he was doing something with Luna. "Seriously, it's not what—"

"Seriously, it's okay."

"Yeah, we'll sleep in the common room tonight."

"Have fun; don't forget the charm."

With a final slam of the door the boys were gone, and a brand new rumor was born to spread through the halls.


	25. Chapter 25

"You're moody," Pansy commented, as Graces continued to glare up at the ceiling from her bed. When the blonde made no attempt to answer her, Pansy heaved a long sigh before continuing. "You were moody last night too..."

"Graces, will you just tell me what has you and your brother in such foul moods!" Pansy exclaimed, no longer wanting to tip-toe around the issue.

Graces turned and faced her friend, raising a single eyebrow at her outbursts.

"Now, now, Pansy," Graces tisked. "Is that any way for a lady to be behaving?"

Pansy muttered something about infuriating Malfoys and stomped over to the door of the room about to leave.

"I want to go to the Three Broomsticks today," Graces mused, staring up at the ceiling again, knowing that the comment would have Pansy halting at the door.

"Okay?" Pansy said slowly, wondering what exactly the blonde was aiming at. "You and Draco always go, why are you—"

"I want to go with you," Graces interjected. " _Before_ Draco arrives. And... and... and I want to look... well, sexy."

Pansy shut the door and stared skeptically at her friend.

"You want to go alone with me and look sexy?"

Graces blushed and nodded her head. Never moving her eyes from the ceiling.

"What's going on?" Pansy demanded. "You never want to go anywhere like that without a male chaperone. You say it's not proper, and you never dress sexy. You're like a poster girl for modesty."

"I am not!" Graces shrieked, rolling over and facing her friend. "Remember my dress for the Yule Ball?"

"That doesn't count; it was a ball," Pansy said rolling her eyes, before adding. And it was only a leg."

"It was sleeveless!" Graces argued, not liking at all what Pansy was insinuating.

"You wore a shawl," Pansy deadpanned.

"It went missing before we had to go down!"

Pansy sat on the bed and gave Graces a wicked smile. "That's right, it did. Hmm, I forgot about that."

"You?!" Graces gasped, reading her friend's smile like an open book.

"I couldn't let you ruin that dress with a shawl, Graces," Pansy giggled, "It would have been a mortal sin, I am sure."

Graces proceeded to call Pansy an assortment of unflattering names, but both girls knew there was really no actual menace to the words. After a good round of insults they sat on the bed for a few moments.

"So you want to go out for some drinks and look sexy," Pansy repeated, laying down next to her friend.

"Yeah," Graces said quietly.

"Is it a boy?"

Graces was silent for a few minutes, not wanting to tell Pansy what boy, but in a way wanting to have someone to talk to.

"Yeah," she murmured, "but I'd rather not say who... I just want him to—I don't know—notice me? He's going to be there with another girl and—"

"Another girl?" Pansy gasped. "Graces! I never took you for someone to take another witch's wizard!"

Graces blushed crimson. "They're not together, or anything. He's just going to be there with a girl, and I'm not going to approach him and—"

"Say no more," Pansy shushed. "I have just the outfit for you."

Pansy rolled off the bed and practically skipped to Graces' closet. After a few moments she came out with a white box.

"Graces, you really are a prat sometimes," Pansy muttered, dropping the box on the bed. "I bought you this for your birthday and you have yet to take it out of the box! Oh, and don't think I didn't see that dress I bought you last christmas still sitting in that corner of your closet."

Graces cleared her throat and muttered excuses about not having anywhere to wear it and other things along those lines that Pansy just scoffed at.

"Well, you have a place to wear this," Pansy scolded. "Now get dressed, and then we will do your makeup and hair. Whoever this boy is will definitely notice you."

Graces hesitantly took the box and headed over to change, sending Pansy an unsure glance as she walked away. The dark haired girl just continued to insist though, until Graces finally nodded her head with determination.

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Neville sat awkwardly at a high table in the Three Broomsticks. Hannah was sitting across from him, peeling the paper off her bottle of butterbeer. Neither of the two knew what to say, so they sat in silence. Neville thought to tell her that she looked nice, but decided that that would be a very misleading thing to say. It was obvious that Hannah had spent a great deal of time on her appearance that day, and while Neville felt that she wanted him to notice, he didn't think it would be appropriate to inform her that he had. So instead he sat quietly, rummaging through his head for something to say.

"Is it because I'm not a pureblood?" Hannah asked quietly, not looking up from the bottle.

"Of course not," Neville said, a little more harshly than he intended.

"Of course not," he repeated again, making sure to sound gently. "Hannah, you know me. How could you even think that?"

Hannah bit her lip, and didn't seem to want to answer. It was clear that her question had offended Neville, and she didn't want to further that.

"Hannah, you just caught me off guard with that question," Neville muttered tightly. "Please, go on."

"I just don't understand," Hannah hiccuped, tears already beginning to form in her eyes. "You say you don't feel that way about me, but surely there is more to it. I'm sure you have reasons why you don't feel that way about me. I just want to know those reasons."

"Why?" Neville asked, slightly irritated with Hannah's logic but trying not to show it. "What good will that do?"

"I don't understand why you can't just tell me. That's why I thought maybe it was my blood status, why else could you not just come forth and tell me?"

Neville knew Hannah was upset with him, bordering angry, but he was having a hard time trying to get himself to be more sympathetic. He felt like he was already dealing with one twisted relationship, and as much as he valued Hannah's friendship, he did not feel like putting the time and effort into his relationship with her as he did with Graces.

"Hannah, you said you wanted to be friends. That you had strong feelings for me and—"

"I said I was in love with you," Hannah corrected, angry tears starting to fall down her cheeks that she wiped away harshly.

"I don't think you love me, Hannah. I think—"

"I do love you!" Hannah exclaimed. "Don't tell me how I feel. I love you, and—"

"You don't even know me," Neville pointed out, obviously dumbfounded as to how Hannah could be so passionate about her feelings towards him.

"I do so," Hannah blushed. "We've been friends for years. How could you say—"

"That doesn't mean you know me," Neville broke in. "Listen, Hannah, I know you think you are in love with me, but you're not. You see only small portions of who I am. Not the full effect. I don't share anything intimate with you."

"I know you're kind and brave, that you enjoy tranquil activities like gardening and ballroom dancing, that you would rather be in the crowd than up on stage, that you like to support the people around you and hold strong to your beliefs. I know you're a good man, and that you would do anything to help someone in need. I know you, Neville Longbottom," Hannah proclaimed passionately. "What I don't understand is why you can't put your guard down and let me know you more intimately. Why you are for some reason unwilling to even try to look at me in a different light."

Neville sat quietly in his chair for a few moments and felt oddly guilty about what was happening with Hannah. She apparently did know him well enough on some level, and she had nurtured an affection for him that he had neglectfully ignored. He had not realized he was ignoring it, but he had.

"There's someone else," he admitted quietly, feeling that honesty was the best way to approach this situation.

"Do you love her?" Hannah choked, clearly in anguish over Neville's confession.

Neville shrugged his shoulders and clenched his jaw. This was not a subject he wanted to discuss with Hannah. He didn't want to hurt her like this, or make her feel inferior. He just wanted her to be able to move on.

"I don't know," he sighed, becoming addled with Hannah's insistent stare and questions.

"Does she love you?"

"I don't know. We're not even dating and—"

"So it's just a crush," Hannah finished, a hopeful tone in her voice.

"Hannah, it's more than—"

"Then why aren't you two dating if it is more? Does she know your feelings?"

Neville closed his eyes and exasperatedly ran his hand down his face, trying hard to regain himself.

"I can't talk to you about this," he said firmly. "It's not appropriate and I'm only hurting you. Hannah, believe me when I say that I am sorry. I truly am. I never meant for you to hold such feelings for me, and I never intended to hurt you like this. I really do want to be friends, but I think you were correct when you first said, in the note, that we needed time apart."

"So you don't want to be around me anymore," Hannah surmised, her voice breaking as she spoke.

"I want you to heal," Neville explained. "I don't want you to place yourself in an uncomfortable situation, because—"

"I'm not uncomfortable!" Hannah declared, now crying freely. "You're the one who doesn't want to be near me anymore."

"Hannah, you were the one that said you wanted space to begin with. I don't know what to do for you, but I don't want you miserable. Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it."

"I want you to give me a chance," Hannah wailed, frustrated beyond recognition. "You're the one that doesn't know me. You think I don't know you, and we have established that I do in fact know you to a degree, but you never have bothered to try and get to know me."

There was a pregnant silence as between the two of them after the outburst. Both students were aware of the stares and whispers going on around them, and each was trying to be as still as possible until the student population went back to their own conversations. Neville sat, his hands laced together on the table with his elbows propped high enough for his mouth to rest along his thumbs, contemplating what he could do for the girl sitting in front of him.

"I don't know what to say, Hannah," he said tiredly. "I truly do not have the slightest inkling on what to say to you. I would gladly sit here in this pub for the rest of the day, allowing you to scream and shout at me all you want, if I thought it would make you feel better. But clearly it doesn't. I have no idea what words I could riddle together to ease your pain. The only things I could say to you at this point to make you feel better would be lies, and I won't do that. So tell me, Hannah, what you want me to do? I can't make myself see you in that way, and no matter how much time we spend together talking it won't change things. My heart isn't in it. It's off somewhere with someone else, so tell me what I am supposed to do?"

"Nothing," Hannah clipped, standing up and grabbing her purse to leave.

"Hannah, please don't do this," Neville begged.

"Do what?" the hufflepuff growled, "Refuse to humiliate myself any farther?"

"I don't want us to leave on bad terms," Neville said, trying desperately to get the girl to sit down.

"Well, we can't always get what we want, can we?" Hannah was now looking around for the barmaid, to hurriedly get her tab.

"I already paid," Neville sighed, not sure what else to do but allow her to go.

Hannah flushed and and seemed to be on the brink of crying all over again. "You didn't have to do that," she said, speaking over the growing lump in her throat. "This wasn't a date."

Neville didn't say anything, just sat waiting for her to say more.

"I think you are making a mistake," Hannah whispered, neither students looking at one another. "I think you could have grown to love me. That we could have really had something together."

Neville just continued to stare down at the table, and only looked up when he was sure Hannah was walking away. He watched her yank open the pub door to make a quick exit and avoid more stares as she continued to wipe away tears, but her quick exit was ruined as she bumped straight into Graces Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.

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Graces held back the impulse to push Hannah off her, as she laid wedged between the sidewalk outside the Three Broomsticks and the the very distraught hufflepuff.

"I'm so sorry," Hannah sputtered, moving her weight off from her and kneeling to her side. "Are you okay?"

"Of course she's not okay!" Pansy spat, offering Graces her hand to help her up. "You just collided with her you clumsy oaf. I swear, half-bloods—"

"Shut it, Pansy," Graces snapped, putting her own hand down to help the still weeping blonde up. Hannah nodded a thanks and took the hand. It wasn't until after Graces had already heaved her up did she notice that Hannah's hand had been scratched up and she was bleeding profusely on Graces.

Pansy gasped and started muttering about dirty blood, jumping back as though she expected Hannah's blood to taint her own, but Graces just stared at the girl before her. Hannah was sputtering out another apology and searching her purse for a clean handkerchief, but Graces was focused on how she looked. It was clear she had been crying long before their little encounter and her frazzled state was obviously over more than just a bump into her. Neville had obviously not in anyway deluded her about his feelings, and she couldn't help but be embarrassed for thinking that he could have.

"It's fine," she said quietly, adding a soft tone of gentleness towards the girl. "It's not like I've never had blood on my hands before," she joked, though it was clear by Hannah's abrupt silence that the joke was taken as serious.

Graces awkwardly cleared her throat, and looked around to see everyone watching their interaction.

"Come inside, Abbott. I'll fix your palms," Graces was already walking inside the establishment with an air of elegance about her despite her bloodied palm. She quietly took a table near the door and beckoned for a server. Gently straightening her shirt with her clean hand, she asked for alcohol and a towel to clean Hannah's wounds.

She pretended to not notice Neville watching her intently. With the rest of the bar starting over at her, it wouldn't do for her to be staring over at him, but she hoped he would see this as her subtle version of an apology. Her way of acknowledging that she should have given him more trust.

Hannah and Pansy both followed hesitantly, neither knowing what it was Graces was up to. Hannah stood by the table and flushed at the attention, she had just looked back towards the door when Graces spoke again.

"Abbott, the longer you stand there looking like a frightened child the longer people will continue to stare at you. Sit down and allow me to help you."

Pansy was already sitting. She knew better than to argue with Graces when she made a demand, and it was obvious from the blonde girl's tone and posture that she would have no arguments.

"I could just go to the castle and have Madame—"

"You just opened your hand on a sidewalk outside of a bar," Graces began lecturing coldly. "Do you have any idea how dirty that particular area is? Not to mention it is ridiculous to bother her with such a minor injury when I am perfectly willing to heal it myself." Hannah continued standing, worrying her lip and cradling her injured hand. "Abbott, you are truly beginning to try my patience, sit down."

Hannah sat at the command, and watched Graces from across the table. Graces, after receiving the alcohol, towel, and a glass of water, sat cleaning her own hands from Hannah's blood. She seemed to be the only person at the table comfortable with the situation. She just continued to scrub her hand with the towel, absorbed in getting every drop of blood off her.

"Out, damn spot," she muttered quietly to herself, smiling at her own humor while the two girls around her just frowned in confusion, since none of them had ever read Shakespeare's "Hamlet."

"There," Graces proclaimed, tossing the towel to the side of her. "All clean. Now, let's take a look at that hand."

Hannah watched as Graces muttered a few spells around her wounds so that she could see the bacteria growing in it. It was odd to see her not scowling. She was by no means being warm towards her, on the contrary she was being exceptionally cold. She had not even given her warning before she started pouring alcohol on her wounds and didn't seem bothered in the least when Hannah hissed with pain.

"Next time you will think twice before you go tearing through doorways like a hippogriff," Pansy scowled.

"If you are going to be unpleasant, Pansy, you may leave," Graces clipped, not even bothering to look up from Hannah's hand.

"What?" Pansy asked scandalized. "You can't be serious? I don't even understand why you are doing this. You don't even like this half-blood. You told me last night that—"

"I'm a prefect," Graces explained, ice in every syllable she uttered to her friend. "How I feel towards Abbot has nothing to do with how I should carry out my duties."

"I can't believe you are touching that dirty blood," Pansy continued, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "AND she ruined your shirt and it had taken me hours to—"

"Pansy, you are being distracting," Graces sighed, irritation evident in her voice. "I think it is best you leave me and Abbott for the time being, hmm?"

"Graces!" Pansy hissed, lowering her voice so no one could hear. "Do you have any idea what people will say if they see you helping Abbott like this? They'll call you a bl—"

Before Pansy could utter another syllable of her sentence, Graces was on her feet. Towering above her friend, her body angled slightly, like the beginning of a wave about to crash down.

"What will they say?" she asked darkly, looking threateningly over to the other purebloods in the room. "I would like to hear you finish that sentence, my dear Pansy. What do you think they will call me? Because last I checked my name was Graces Bellatrix _Malfoy,_ and I am very interested to know what other title you think someone would dare even consider bestowing upon me."

Pansy quickly spouted off an apology, but Graces honestly wasn't listening, she was too focused on watching the other purebloods look away with the same amount of embarrassment. She sat down, satisfied in knowing that no one would dare call her a blood traitor for helping Abbott.

_Though they could definitely call you a blood traitor for what you have been doing with Longbottom,_ a snide voice reminded as Pansy walked over to sit with Millicent.

"Sorry about that," Graces sighed, placing her hand out on the table to receive Hannah's. "Pansy can be a bit trying at times. I'm sure you have similar friends."

Hannah nodded awkwardly and allowed Graces to continue healing her.

"I'm sorry about your blouse," Hannah said quietly, realizing that Graces had a bloody hand print on her ribs. "I'll replace it, of course."

"This blouse is a Madam Blanc," Graces pointed out, not even looking up at Hannah as she spoke. "It costs over 300 galleons, and this blouse in particular is only sold in a store in France." Graces was now looking up, her silver eyes staring into Hannah's green ones. "I doubt you can afford to replace it."

Hannah flushed with embarrassment, and started to apologize again when Graces interrupted.

"It's fine, Abbott," she shrugged, finishing up the last bit of scratches. "You did me a favor really; I hate this blouse. Much too revealing for my taste, the whole school does not need to know what my midriff looks like, or the exact size and shape of my breasts for that matter. I only wore this outfit because Pansy insisted. It was a gift from her. Also, in case you forgot, I'm disgustingly rich. I could easily replace this blouse if I wanted to, and it would be like buying a piece of Droobles blowing gum. So don't worry about replacing it."

"Thanks," Hannah said quietly, still unsure as to why Graces was behaving so kindly towards her.

"Finished," Graces dismissed, placing her wand back into her pockets and leaning back to look at Hannah. "I am curious though as to what made you so distressed that you couldn't even be bothered to leave in a civilized manner."

"That's a bit private isn't it?" Hannah blushed.

"You knocked me down, ruined my blouse, and caused me to argue with my best friend. I think you can give me some sort of explanation."

Hannah felt a slow heat begin to rise against her neck, and a sinking feeling pool in her stomach.

"The boy I fancy—"

"Longbottom," Graces elaborated.

Hannah flushed at the bluntness in Graces' words, and wished she could just sink into the floor and disappear.

"Yes," she admitted quietly. "Well, he doesn't fancy me. He fancies someone else."

"He told you this?" Graces asked, silently cheering.

Hannah nodded. Graces turned and looked over to where Neville was sitting, he was watching her intently and frowning slightly, clearly worried about what Graces was saying. Ron and Harry seemed to be watching intently as well. Still, Neville's face was the one she focused on. He didn't seem hostile, just genuinely worried, even curious.

"Hmm," Graces hummed, lifting her eyebrows slightly to show some mild interest before continuing to look bored again. "That's how the cauldron cake crumbles sometimes I suppose."

"I...I heard a rumor today that he slept with Luna Lovegood last night at his party," Hannah admitted quietly, "But that doesn't sound like Neville. He wouldn't just drunkenly sleep with some girl."

Graces felt a great panic begin to well up inside her. She had told Neville just yesterday that he was free to do as he pleased with other girls. She had implied he had no reason to be monogamous with her and had even gone as far as to say she didn't as well. And now she was hearing that he may have slept with Luna Lovegood. Hannah didn't know that Neville had slept with her in a drunken state, so she had no idea that this could very well be possible.

_Calm down. He didn't lie about Hannah, and this could very well be a rumor. Just a silly rumor. Don't go crucioing Longbottom without asking._ Before she could think or stop herself she turned to where Luna was sitting.

"Lovegood," she called casually from where she was sitting, ignoring the way Abbott was desperately trying to get her to be quiet. Luna turned her dreamy eyes over to Graces and stared at her. "Did you sleep with Longbottom last night? Abbott here has her panties in a twist thinking you did."

"No," Luna answered dreamily, her blue eyes still fixated on Graces. "Did you?"

"Of course not," Graces sneered, while a few Slytherins chuckled at what they thought was Luna's way of being snarky.

"Are you sure?" Luna continued, picking out the pickled onion from her drink and sucking on it.

"I'm pretty sure I would know if I shagged Neville Longbottom last night," Graces declared, rolling her eyes, but satisfied that Luna was telling the truth and turned back towards Hannah who was glaring at her.

"Why did you do that?" she hissed, her cheeks reddening more as she noticed people looking at her.

Graces merely smiled and shrugged. "I was genuinely curious," she replied simply. "It's not every day you hear that Neville Longbottom shagged a girl. Cheer up, Abbott. He didn't sleep with Lovegood. Unfortunately, he still has no feelings towards you, but you at least have the comfort of knowing you didn't lose out to Loony Lovegood."

Feeling satisfied with her new knowledge, Graces stood to join her own friends. She had made it just barely halfway to where Pansy and Millicent were sitting when a tall, broad-shouldered Gryffindor stepped in her way.

"McLaggen," Graces greeted coolly, clearly not happy with being stopped in such a way.

If the straw haired boy caught on to the hatred stare in the girl before him he ignored it and smiled broadly down at her.

"That was very impressive magic," he complimented, moving a step closer to Graces. "Healing spells aren't really taught till 7th year, you must study on your own."

Graces just continued her hostile stare at Gryffindor.

"I'm sure you know who I am," Mclaggen continued, "but we have never been formally introduced. I'm Cormac McLaggen, heir to the McLaggens, of course you can just call me Cormac." Graces looked a little past McLaggen to see Neville watching. He was trying to seem invested in whatever Ron was speaking about, but his eyes kept shifting over to where she and McLaggen was. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"You can, but that doesn't mean I would accept it," Graces answered, moving to pass him. McLaggen didn't seem to catch the hint though, because he put his arm out and stopped Graces.

"I'm sorry, _may I_ buy you a drink?" Cormac chuckled, clearly not believing that Graces was turning down his drink.

"No," Graces stated firmly, taking a step back so that Cormac's arm was no longer invading her space. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Graces had thought that McLaggen would allow her to pass by once she had dismissed him, but it seemed that McLaggen did not possess the Gryffindor chivalry.

"May I ask why not?" The straw haired boy asked coldly, his face showing signs of obvious anger about being humiliated in such a way. Graces could see Neville beginning to stand up from the table he was at, clearly not at all happy with the way McLaggen was cornering her. She prayed he wouldn't come over and do anything stupid, but she could tell from the look of determination on his face that he wasn't going to allow another second of this to go on.

"Is there a problem here?" a handsome voice asked, while the owner of the voice wrapped a strong arm around Graces waist.

Graces looked up to see Terence Higgs beside her. Though he did not look at all like the Terence she knew. The Terence Higgs she knew was a warm and kind man, drawing people in with his charming smile and playful nature, but you would never guess that if you looked at the man towering over her.

The Higgs heir was staring stonily down at McLaggen, his face completely cold except for his eyes that held a challenging stare. it was obvious in appearance alone that Terence Higgs was not a man to be trifled with. Not only was he a fully grown wizard, five years out from Hogwarts, but the air with which he held himself displayed his wealth and power.

"Of course not," McLaggen sputtered, suddenly feeling very small, a feeling the tall built Gryffindor was not used to.

"Good," Terence clipped, "then you won't mind letting us pass."

McLaggen slunk to the side as the alumnus and current Slytherin moved forward.

"My, my, Miss Malfoy, how we have grown," Terence commented, moving towards the back of the room to a more private table. Passing right next to Neville, who was still standing after getting up earlier. "Last I saw you, you were just starting to bud, but now I see you are in full bloom."

Graces flushed as Terence took her hand and spun her around so he was able to see the full effect.

"Ah, but still definitely a Malfoy in more than beauty I see," Terence smiled, moving his hand and tugging the blood stained cloth that was hugging Graces' ribs. Graces flushed and explained why she looked such a fright, but her explanation just caused the older gentleman to laugh warmly. "Don't fret so, Graces. I was just jesting, even bloodied up you're a beautiful young woman."

Graces noted Neville was watching their every interaction with an extremely dark look. he had still not returned to his table with Ron and Harry, and seemed to be, despite himself, glued standing to the floor.

"Thank you," Graces blushed. "How's your wife?" she asked, knowing that Neville would hear.

"Breathtaking as always, and giving me another son any day now," Terence said proudly, now continuing on his way to sit down at the table next to where Harry and Ron were seated.

"The gods must truly favor you to be blessing you with another son," Graces smiled, taking her seat and worrying slightly as Neville continued to walk towards the bar and not back towards his friends.

"Ah, they favor the Higgs with sons, but rarely smile down and bless them with daughters," Terence sighed, a warm half smile still playing at his lips.

"Most families would be overjoyed for such luck," Graces pointed out, trying to pay attention to the man sitting with her and not Neville who was speaking to Madam Rosmerta and making a small gesture towards her.

Terence just chuckled at her comment.

"My wife will have two little me's running around, and yet I have not yet been blessed with a little her. I would love to see the day when my wife's beauty and our love will be forever encased in a daughter."

"Your wife is a lucky witch," Graces said, smiling softly.

"Isn't she?" Terence smiled, cockily pulling on his suit's opening, causing Graces to giggle. "Oh and looky here, another good looking Higgs!" he exclaimed, as Thomas walked up to the table a questioning look on his face. "You are a lucky girl, Malfoy, to be seated with two dashingly good looking men."

"So lucky," Graces proclaimed, laughing at Terence's antics as he pulled his younger cousin in for a great bear hug.

Thomas eventually wiggled out of his cousin's grasps and straightened himself up, tossing over an annoyed look at Terence before taking a seat.

"I should let you two catch up," Graces smiled, moving to leave. "Thank you so much for earlier, Terence, and send my best to your wife and new baby."

"Nonsense," Terence exclaimed. "You'll join us. Come sit back down, I'd be honored if you graced us with your company."

"No," Graces flushed, "I couldn't impose. You came all this way to see Thomas, family time is important."

Terence stood, and before Graces could leaved placed a tender hand on her shoulders.

"As far as the Higgs clan is concerned, Graces, you are family," he said tenderly. "We will never be able to thank you for what you did for Thomas here."

Thomas nodded to what his cousin said, and gestured for Graces to sit back down.

Graces, slightly overwhelmed by the Higgs heir's words, complied. The Higgs family was very different from some of the other pureblood families, though they held the same values. One thing that marked their difference was the sheer amount of children they had. While all pureblood families valued children, the Higgs took it to the next level. Each family had as many or more children than the Weasleys. It made for an absurd family gathering, and yet they all were extremely close. If what Terence had said was true and the whole of the Higgs clan accepted her as family she had a vast amount of alliances.

"I wasn't aware I had gained so many brothers and sisters," she joked warmly.

"Brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, grandmothers, and grandfathers. Even nieces and nephews," Terence smiled. "And, if you should ever want, probably any husband. Though, you do not need to marry into the family for us to treat you as a part of it."

"I really haven't done anything to warrant such—"

Graces was stopped by Thomas' hand reaching out and holding onto hers, while the silent boy shook his head.

"You've done a lot, Graces," Terence corrected. "As you must know we are a very close family, and we all were worried for Thomas before he started Hogwarts. We were worried he wouldn't excel because he couldn't speak the spells. We worried he would be teased and mocked, with no other person from our family there to protect him. We were nervous for his confidence, and we worried for his general well-being. Thomas, unlike the rest of us, didn't have a soul at Hogwarts to keep him company. I had my older brothers, and others had cousins and siblings as well. Thomas here got caught in an odd gap where he would be completely alone, something we Higgs are not used to. But you took the place of all of us and quickly put away all our worries. Not only did you take our places for him emotionally, you advocated for private lessons with Snape and made extra time to tutor him. You have more than earned your place among our clan, your brother too."

Graces nodded and was glad when Madam Rosmerta showed up at the table so she could quickly wipe her eyes of the emotion being born into them.

"One Dragon Barrel Brandy, a butterbeer and whatever the lady would like," Terence ordered confidently.

"Well, it would seem the lady's first drink has already been ordered," Rosmerta smiled, setting down a drink in front of Graces. "Chocolate Cauldron Martini for you dear."

Graces looked over to the table next to her, and Neville gave her a faint smile and little nod, before Ron turned to him and started gesturing wildly in what Graces could only assume was about quidditch. Smiling at the gesture, she reached out to try the drink, but before she could touch the glass Terence had picked it up himself.

"Who sent her this?" he demanded, no longer wearing his warm smile.

"An admirer," the barmaid laughed, clearly not understanding the severity of Terence's question.

"I figured that, but who?" terence gritted, clearly not having any patience.

"Well, I can't tell you that. I was asked and paid not to say." It was clear that Madam Rosmerta was not used to this kind of interrogation, and Graces wondered how long she would hold her temper.

"Did you personally make this drink?" Terence asked, now standing and holding the drink in front of him.

"No, the bartend—"

"Then how do you know it wasn't tampered with? Do you have any id—"

"I think I know who the drink is from," Graces broke in, not wanting this series of questions to go any farther. "I'm sure it is safe. Please, don't ruin this for me."

After a few awkward moments and an apology from Terence to Madam Rosmerta they were all three alone again. Graces still had not had a drink because Terence had refused to hand it over yet, promising to allow her it after they were served and could talk privately.

"How can you know for sure who sent this drink?" he asked, looking much like a father as he stared over at Graces.

"I just have an idea," Graces shrugged.

"Do you understand how dangerous it is to accept a drink like this?"

Graces rolled her eyes, and looked over to Thomas for support, but the younger boy seemed to be in complete agreement with his cousin.

"Yes," Graces sighed exasperatedly, "but I am sure it is fine."

Terence groaned, and rubbed his face tiredly. "I am sounding more and more like my father every day," he muttered. "Still, I can't just allow you to drink this without knowing it is for sure safe, Graces. Your brother would kill me before the guilt could."

"It's just a drink," Graces whined, "the bartender made it."

"He could have been under a spell, or the bloke who sent this could have paid him to add something," Terence maintained.

"Well, if that is the way you are thinking how could any of us ever eat out?"

The older man chuckled and moved to grab something from his inside breast pocket of his suit. When his hand emerged it was accompanied by clear cylinder that held a small white mouse.

"With this," he said, opening the cylinder and giving the small mouse a few drops of her martini. "Let's just wait a few minutes and see if the mouse is still alive and healthy," Terence requested.

Graces nodded, but kept her eyes glued to the heir in front of her.

"Why are you carrying a mouse like that?" she asked, suspicious as to why Terence was being so paranoid. She had never known the man in front of her to be the cautious.

Terence eyed her quietly for a moment before leaning back and rubbing his strong jaw, clearly trying to decide if he could tell her.

"Our family has been threatened," he confided, watching Graces for her reaction. "It appears that our neutrality in the war isn't being taken well from one of the sides. Naturally, my father and I refused to bow down to such a threat, and it has placed my life as well as my family's life in a considerable amount of danger."

Graces could feel her heart hammering against her chest and looked over to Thomas, who clearly already knew of such news.

"Terence," she whispered, "this is a serious threat, you can't possibly mean to continue defying the Dark Lord."

"I refuse to bow down to someone out of fear," Terence maintained. "We have a large family. If he chooses to attack, he is attacking an army. I doubt he would want to lose his own people in such a battle, especially since he lost so many to the Ministry." Graces opened her mouth to argue, positive that Terence was making a mistake, but he put a gentle hand down on her shoulder to silence her. "This has already been decided. We as a family have made the decision to hold out. I don't want you concerning yourself with this. You have your own family troubles to worry over, leave ours to me."

Graces nodded, but couldn't seem to rid herself of the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Now, it looks like Ezekiel here has survived the drink, just one final test," Terence said, taking the drink and lifting it to his own lips. "Thomas, if I start proclaiming my undying love to some bloke in this bar, I am going to hold you accountable. I trust you to stop me before it gets that far."

Thomas chuckled and raised his shoulders noncommittally.

"Bottoms up," Terence toasted, before taking a sip.

Graces waited, not bothering to hide her boredom. She was very aware that there was no love potion in that drink because Neville had given it to her. She looked over to the other table to see a very irritated Neville watch the scene unfold. When he saw her looking over he smiled and rolled his eyes, causing Graces to have a serene grin as she turned back to her own company.

She was about to make a comment about overly protective heirs when Terence eyes went wide and a goofy grinned came on his face.

"Terence?" Graces asked, looking over at Neville for a moment, who seemed just as shocked as she was.

"I...I'm in love," Terence cooed, his eyes wide with wonder. "I have to tell him."

"Wh-what?!" Graces exclaimed, her heart pounding.

Thomas' eyes were wide as well, and he was standing up now clearly unsure of what to do. He looked like he was about to stun his cousin before he could do anything truly stupid, when Terence shot his arm out and pulled him onto his lap.

"Oh, Thomas, how I love you," Terence proclaimed, laughing profusely as his not so little cousin struggled to get away from his strong arms. "I love you so much I could just eat you up."

Graces was bent over laughing as Terence swung Thomas like a rag doll in his arms, and proceeded to pinch his cheeks and tousle his hair. Thomas, not really being a small boy for his age, ended up wrestling away and sending, what Graces assumed, a very potent stinging charm at his cousin before sitting back down.

"Now, was that really necessary?" Terence asked, rubbing his bum where he had been hexed.

Thomas scowled and nodded his head, clearly not thinking that his cousin's antics were nearly as funny as he and Graces thought.

It was then that Graces saw Neville get up and head towards the loo. She quietly excused herself and headed in the same direction. When she entered the quiet hall in the back she called over to Neville to get his attention.

"Longbottom," she whispered, relieved when he turned around and saw her. She nodded her head for him to follow her and they both snuck into an old broom closet in the back.

"Lumos," Neville whispered, the moment the door was shut and Graces had locked it.

Graces now had no idea what to say. She had just seen an opportunity to be alone with Neville and jumped on it without thinking. Not knowing what to do, she leaned in and kissed him softly. Lingering near him while a tangible silence pulsated around them, she knew something needed to be said, that Neville, while he was no longer furious with her, still had not fully let go of what happened between them the other day. So she stood there for a few moments searching her head for the right thing to say.

"I've put the crazy away," she whispered, letting her hands rest on his chest.

"And," Neville prompted.

Graces frowned, unsure of what Neville was looking for.

"Don't you think someone in this room owes the other one an apology?" Neville asked innocently, clearly not willing to let this slide.

Graces flushed, but nodded.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking down at her hands resting on Neville's chest.

"For," Neville prompted.

"For... for, overreacting?" Graces tried, looking up. Neville did not seem to feel that wasn't enough though, judging by his insistent stare. "And for being prissy with you?"

"Graces, are you asking me what you should be sorry for?" Neville sighed, irritatedly.

"No, I am sorry for overreacting and being rude towards you, but there seems to be more you feel I should be sorry about."

Neville nodded, and decided that if wanted Graces to start using her words he should do the same.

"You can't just push me away when you get upset," Neville declared.

"Oh," Graces stated mulishly, "that."

"Yeah, that."

"I'll work on that," Graces muttered grudgingly, not sure at all how she was going to stop something she did without thinking.

"That's all I ask," Neville contended, kissing her head softly and moving his arms around her.

Graces was silent for a moment and played with her hands for a bit before asking, as casually as possible, if Neville really did sleep with Luna Lovegood.

"Does it matter?" Neville questioned offhandedly. "You said I was free to do as I please in that aspect."

"So you did?" Graces asked, unable to hide the hurt in her voice, as she moved away from him.

"No, I didn't," Neville promised, rolling his eyes and pulling her back. "I wouldn't do that, but you should not say those types of things to me nonetheless."

Graces nodded and leaned against Neville, thankful that he didn't do anything out of anger or spite to hurt her. Thankful that she didn't place her trust in someone undeserving of it.

"I don't want you sleeping with or dating other girls," she said quietly.

"So you want to go steady," Neville paraphrased.

"No, I'm still not your girlfriend," Graces maintained.

Neville was silent for a few moments, clearly taking her words in and mulling them over.

"So, let me get this straight, you want a monogamous relationship without any of the commitment?"

"Yes," Graces said, praying that Neville would agree.

"Okay."

"Really?" Graces breathed looking up.

"Really," Neville nodded, though he did not seem very happy about the situation. "On the condition that you will talk to me when something upsets you, and you also will refrain from dating or sleeping with other guys."

"Agreed," Graces smiled, knowing she was really getting the better end of the deal with this.

"This is just going to disappoint so many girls," Neville said sarcastically. "I had so many lined up to sleep with me, I really just feel terrible."

"Well, they will just have to be disappointed," Graces giggled. "You already agreed."

"I did," Neville murmured, leaning down and kissing the girl in his arms. He didn't realize how much he ached to be near her until moments like this where she was with him smiling and he could hold her freely, all the while listening to her musical giggles. "Can I see you tonight?"

"Yes," Graces breathed, nuzzling her nose affectionately against his. "It will have to be late."

"I don't care, so long as I can see you."

"Okay," Graces nodded, "midnight in Greenhouse One."

"Perfect," Neville smiled, "you should wear this."

"Such a guy!" Graces gasped, hitting him playfully against the chest.

"What?" Neville asked. "I like it."

"It's covered in your friend's blood."

"Wash it."

Graces explained the reasons why she couldn't use magic to wash the shirt, and then went into where it was from and how she couldn't just buy a new one by owl.

"A Madame Blanc, huh?" Neville repeated, his eyes still raking down the tight periwinkle blue shirt, clearly enjoying how it hugged Graces' body and dipped low in the front, while he let his hands wander to her backside over the dragon hide pants.

"Yes, a Madame Blanc," Graces repeated. "and stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that," Graces elaborated.

"Like what?"

"Like you know what is under here."

"I do know what is under there," Neville said huskily, pressing himself against her, before jumping back when Graces pinched his shoulder.

"We have to go," Graces stressed, "we've been in here far too long. People are probably wondering where we are."

"Oh, so we can't tell them we were snogging in a broom closet together?" Neville asked innocently.

Graces scowled, but there was really no malice in it, and she ended up just kind of laughing at her own attempt.

"No, we cannot. We'll just say we bumped into one another and were setting up our next tutoring session. Say we got in an argument because you want to move forward and I am insisting we stick to the basics."

"Why would I want to move forward?"

"Because you feel like you need to work on what is going on in class now, that way your grades can improve."

"Okay," Neville sighed.

"I'll see you tonight, thank you for the drink," Graces said leaning up and kissing Neville gently on the lips. "but don't send me any more. It's too risky."

Graces hurriedly left the broom closet before Neville could argue, and exited the lonely hall.

"Graces! There you are!" Terence called, now surrounded by most of the Slytherin 6th and 7th years and a few other younger purebloods from the house. The older years apparently now realized that their old seeker was there and everyone wanted to catch up and congratulate the older man on his sons, including Draco. "'Bout time you showed up, your brother here was just about to have a conniption when you didn't show up after a few minutes."

"Why are you covered in blood?" Draco demanded, moving past the crowd and forcefully grabbing at his sister and examining her. "What the hell happened?"

"Nothing, Draco," Graces whispered, stopping her brother before he lifted her shirt to examine her bare ribs. Blushing profusely, she explained what had happened earlier with Hannah.

"She's fine, Draco," Terence called, stopping his discussion about the latest accidental magic his toddler displayed. "No need to coddle her, she's a big girl if you haven't noticed."

Draco scowled over at the older boy, and then actually took a look at his sister. Graces fidgeted as her brother looked her over a small frown growing the more he looked.

"You don't like it," Graces said quietly, now embarrassed.

"I just know what boys think when they see it," Draco frowned, "and for you and Pansy to be here with no chaperone..."

"You were supposed to be here half an hour after we got here," Graces argued. "Where were you?"

Graces watched as Draco suddenly looked visibly sick, and placed a gentle hand on him.

"Draco, what is it?"

"Nothing," the blond boy rasped, "I think we should leave."

"So soon after you just arrived?" Graces asked, now knowing something was wrong. "Draco, what's—"

"Graces,"Draco snapped, "you're covered in a half-blood's blood and I am not feeling well. We are going."

"Hey, is everything alright over here?" Terence asked lowly, placing a hand on Draco's arm, but looking over at Graces.

"Everything is fine," Draco clipped, moving away from the older boy. "We are leaving though. It was great seeing you, Terence. Please send Arella my best, but we must be going."

Terence clearly did not believe that everything was fine, but he nodded his head and allowed the twins to go. He hugged both of them, despite Draco only holding his hand out for a handshake, and insisted they come over during break to see his new child and catch up.

It was a long, silent walk back to the castle. Graces knew Draco was deep in thought, but he seemed unwilling to even look at her, let alone divulge what it was that was bothering him. It was clear though that the Slytherin boy was beyond disturbed. His skin was glistening with sweat, and he looked as though he would be sick at any moment. When Graces had tried to make small talk, he had not even looked up from the ground. It was as though he didn't even hear her.

They had barely reached the castle when Hagrid came stampeding by with a few other students running close behind him, Katie Bell in his arms screaming insanely.


	26. Chapter 26

Graces stared over at her brother from where she was seated in the Slytherin common room. He hadn't said a word to her since they went into the castle. The only thing he had done was order her to go to the dungeons and stay there until he finished sending an owl. Graces immediately obeyed when she saw how panicked her brother was, but since he had returned from his task he just sat motionless at their usual chair, staring out at the murky water beyond the glass.

All day she had tried to think of a way to approach him, but every time she stood to do so something about his face made her sit back down. She had asked if he was ready to go to dinner hours ago, but he hadn't even looked at her. He just sat staring out of the window. No one was left in the common room now. Draco had sat motionless as everyone left, not even turning his head at the mutterings about Katie Bell.

Graces imagined the whole school was talking about the incident now. Professor Snape had come in after dinner and announced that Katie was being taken from the school to St. Mungo's, that she had touched a cursed object and was lucky to be alive. Graces had watched her brother's face the whole time Snape spoke, and she was now positive that he was the one responsible for Katie's state. But she was also positive that he had not meant for her to be hurt.

Tentatively, she stood up and made her way over to where Draco was sitting. It was already past midnight and she imagined that Neville was waiting for her in the greenhouse, but she couldn't leave the common room with her brother sitting there. And if she was being completely honest she was too scared to leave him now anyways.

"Draco?"

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Draco was not ready to face his sister. He had seen the look of horror on her face when Katie screams echoed off the stone walls of the castle, and he did not want to see the look of revulsion directed to him when she realized that he had been the one to do that.

For sixteen years Graces had always looked at him with love and adoration. He was never the monster under the bed, he was the hero whose room she would run into when she was frightened of the dark. He was the arm she clung to at dinner parties when she was nervous and didn't know anyone, the shoulder she cried on when they started missing their father fourth year, the face she sought in a crowd, the arms she demanded when their father was sentenced and she desperately needed to be held and allowed to cry.

And now he was no longer going to be the hero in her eyes. He could see it from that one glance, he had become a monster. He saw her sneaking glances over at him in the corner of his eye; it was like she didn't even seem to believe that it was him residing in his own skin. He just wanted her to go away. Go away so he could have a few more hours of her not actually looking at him. A few hours where he was still her hero, and he didn't have to tell her how he had failed her. Because he had. He had failed her.

The task didn't go as planned. Katie, the stupid idiotic girl, didn't follow the instructions like she was supposed to. If she had she would be tucked comfortably in her bed, and Dumbledore would be dead. Dumbledore would be dead and Graces would be safe. His whole family would be safe. But the gods had laughed at his plans, and now they were all in terrible danger. He sent the owl to the Dark Lord explaining what had happened, and he still had yet to receive a response.

"Draco," Graces began, her voice quivering, "did you have anything to do with-"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, Graces," Draco muttered darkly, shrugging his shoulder away from her as the look in her eyes confirmed his worst fears."I would have thought mother set a better example to you than that. Even when father came in with blood soaked robes, she didn't ask questions. Clearly her lessons were lost on you."

There was an ear-ringing silence, as Graces seemed to be absorbing his words. It was the kind of silence that chilled you to the bone and made you itch for noise. His ears began focusing on Graces' breathing, as though they were purposely reminding him that her life may stop from his mistake. That any day now she could be ripped away from Hogwarts' grounds, taken to the Dark Lord, and he would ensure that air never entered her lungs again. And it would be all his fault. He would have to put her cold lifeless body in the ground because he failed. Both their parents would despise him, and his father would—

Draco's chain of thought was immediately interrupted as he felt his sister's body slam against him. It took him a few seconds to realize she was hugging him and not tackling him, and even longer to decipher what she was repeating through her heavy sobs: Thank you.

"Wha-what?"

"I know whatever you did, you did for me," Graces simpered, her face shining from tears. " For Mum and Dad. For all of us as a family, and I'm so sorry you feel bad, and I'm sure Bell wasn't meant to get hurt, but I'm so thankful you are trying to save us. To the rest of the world you may be the villain, but to me you're the hero."

It didn't make him feel whole again, Draco could still feel the insides of his stomach twisting violently from Bell's screams. But it did something. It was something, to have his sister holding him tightly, like her arms were the glue keeping him together. He wasn't whole at the moment, but she was keeping him together so he wasn't falling apart at the seams. Draco took a steadying breath and wound his own arms tightly around her so that she was pressed so hard into his chest it hurt.

"I don't know what you are talking about," he rasped, burying his nose in her hair, so he could close his eyes and pretend they were home. Graces smelled like home.

"You know you can tell me anything, Draco. Anything at all, and I would never stop loving you."

Draco nodded, not trusting his voice not to break if he spoke and determined not to start crying in front of his sister. If he cried in front of her she would know just how bad things were, and if she knew that she would know her life was in danger and he couldn't bear the thought of watching her be frightened. Riddled with worry was one thing, but actually frightened was another. He had seen her frightened all summer, after their father wasn't around. She always seemed to be looking around corners, and hurriedly turning on torches as she entered rooms, as though she expected someone to jump out at her at any moment. And that was without mentioning the night terrors, the night terrors she had been determined to try and hide, like he wouldn't notice that the screaming had stopped and that her room had become eerily silent.

Even if the night terrors had stopped he would have still heard other sounds coming from the room. The sound of her moving around as she slept. Or the distant sounds of her muttering. Or crying. Both Malfoy women had taken to crying in their sleep after Lucius had been sentenced. Draco would wander the halls and check on each of their doors at night and he could hear both of them crying separately in their rooms.

It was the worst part of his new position as patriarch. He had become the man of the house overnight and had not a clue as to how to comfort the women in his life. After a few nights he had decided to try and comfort Graces. He had came into her room, and crawled into her bed and held her as she cried harder into his chest. He had stayed there all night as she cried, and had even at one point started begging her to tell him what to do to make her feel better. But she hadn't even been able to muster up enough breaths to tell him, so he had just laid there with her until she eventually wore herself out and fell asleep.

His mother had been even more frustrating. He had knocked on her door only to be ignored. The crying continued, but there was no opening for him to give her comfort. He had eventually started talking through the door. Telling her it was going to be okay, and to let him in. All his words were in vain though, as soon as his mother realized he was still at her door a silencing charm was put on the room. Narcissa Malfoy was far too proud of a woman to allow her son to comfort her over the loss of her husband.

In the day both Malfoy women had pretended that everything was going to be okay, but at night when they were in the comforts of their own rooms Draco knew they were breaking down. Silencing charms had been placed around their rooms, dreamless sleep potion bottles could be spotted in the cracks in their doorways through the days, and bottles of wine were missing from the wine cellar. Draco had not taken his new duty as patriarch lightly. He had kept an eye on both his sister's and his mother's behavior. He knew exactly what was happening to their family. They were living in not only mourning but fear.

He had so desperately wanted to sooth the fear and the mourning that had clouded their household, but he had not a clue as to how to do that when everyone else was trying to be strong for one another. He and Graces had always been so privileged in their lives beforehand. Their father had always taken care of everything. He remembered how much his father had instilled that belief into him, the belief that a man should always be able to take care of his family, that nothing bad should ever be allowed to touch them.

_And yet he brought this onto us..._

"Draco?"

Draco, awakened from his thoughts, looked down to see Graces lying on his chest, her face puffy from tears.

"Where did you go?"

"Somewhere far away, where I was able to get away from annoying prat sisters," he smirked, tightening his arms around her so she knew he was kidding.

Graces gave him a small smile, and leaned her head back down, allowing him to play with a small piece of her hair.

"It's late," Draco sighed, as the embers of the fire in the common room glowed dimly. "You should go to bed."

"Can... can I sleep with you?" Graces asked quietly, not looking up at him.

"That would make for some interesting rumors," Draco commented dryly, though not saying no.

"Please?"

Maybe it was the way Graces said please, her voice tiny and small, giving sound to how she must have been feeling. Or maybe it was because he himself felt much the same, and didn't want to be alone that night as well. Either way he agreed and the two of them walked up to the boys dorm to sleep.

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Graces had to fight to open her aching eyes. Eventually she was successful and rubbed the vast amount of sleep that was on them, making it impossible to see. She felt so warm. From head to toe she was comforted with warmth, so much so that she didn't want to leave the bed to go to the lou. Unfortunately for her the need for the loo won out, and she slowly eased herself out of her brother's arm that was tossed on top of her back. Quietly she slipped out of the curtains surrounding his four poster bed, and tiptoed past the other sleeping boys.

She had just emerged from the stall door, and was walking over to the sink when a voice from the corner startled her.

"I liked your outfit today."

Graces whipped around to see Nott standing against the corner, watching her greedily.

"I didn't even know you owned clothes like that," Nott continued, stepping away from the wall and moving towards her. "I definitely would have recalled you wearing dragonhide pants." Graces eyed Nott warily, and took a few steps back as became closer. "And that shirt," he trailed off, blowing air out as though it had literally winded him when he had seen. "Definitely noticeable, Gray. Wish you would have worn that for some of our dates."

Graces made to move for the door, but Nott was quicker/stronger than her and stopped her before she even reached the handle.

"It's rude to leave when someone is talking to you," Nott continued coldly. Graces took a few slow steps back, deciding being farther from the door was better than Nott's hand lingering on the front of her waist line.

"My brother will not appreciate you cornering me in the bathroom, after he asked you to not be alone with me," Graces pointed out, still looking at the door rather than her ex-boyfriend.

Suddenly, Theodore's hand was on her face and he was forcing her to look at him as his fingers dug into her cheeks. "Do you have any idea how much trouble your brother is in?" Theodore gritted, his face practically touching hers.

"If you don't let go of me, I'll scream," Graces threatened, relieved when Nott relinquished his hold on her, though knowing she was not out of the danger zone.

It took all of Graces' efforts not to fold her arms across herself as she stood in the cold bathroom glaring back at Nott. Nott who was towering over her menacingly.

"I have news that I am sure you would want to hear," he said darkly, taking out a black envelope from his night robe. Graces stared at the letter, she recognized that as being from a the Dark Lord. Many nights the Malfoy family dinners were interrupted as a owl brought one, almost immediately her father would leave after reading it. "I received this earlier today, would you like to read it?"

"I imagine that is a very private letter," Graces breathed, not taking her eyes off the ominous paper. "I see no reason for me to—"

"It involves your brother," Nott clipped, now dangling it above her. Graces knew she should decline reading the letter, that her brother would not want her entangled in such affairs, but she could not bring herself to say no. Instead she just stood staring up at it, her breathing and heart rate becoming the only noise to fill the room. Nott seemed to take this as the answer he was hoping for and lowered the letter down, so Graces could take it. His eyes never wavered from her face as she reached out a shaking hand and opened the letter.

With every word that Graces read she reached a higher level of panic. By the time she had finished reading, words like furious, impatient, and punish were swirling through her head. Draco had failed in a mission attempt and now the Dark Lord wanted him to be punished, and he wanted Nott to be the one to punish him.

"What are you going to do?" Graces asked tightly, knowing that she was not the one with the upper hand.

"Now, now, Graces," Nott cooed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and leaving his hand to caress her face. "No need for tears. I can make all of this go away."

Graces, despite herself, could not stop the tears from coming faster and faster down her face. She was well aware of what Nott would want for making such things go away.

"It won't be bad," Nott promised, now taking her hand and moving towards the shower area. "And it doesn't hurt nearly as much as you girls are told it will. It's just a few seconds of discomfort, your brother would have much worse. You wouldn't want that would you?"

"I can't," Graces moaned, making a half effort to pull away, but too terrified to really defy him.

"Then Draco will pay the price," Nott promised. "Do this for me and I will write back to the Dark Lord guaranteeing that Draco is placing all his efforts into his mission and that there is no need to punish him."

"He would want him punished anyways," Graces spat, now fighting to tear her hand away from him. Fear no longer clouding her judgment."He's that kind of monster! Let me go! My brother would rather be crucioed! He can live with a few moments of pain, but I won't be able to live with myself if I slept with you!"

"And that's your final decision?" Nott asked, allowing Graces to move away.

"Why are you doing this to me?" In the back of her mind, Graces knew that this was not the thing to say to the man that was in charge of punishing her brother. That this would make things worse for Draco even, but she couldn't bring herself to not ask. "Why can't you just let me go?"

Nott looked at her contemplatively for a moment, before moving over to a wall and leaning against it.

"My father adores you," he began, a tone of bitterness chilling his words. "He's always adored you. Ever since I can remember he would always say how perfect you were: Smart, funny, sweet, beautiful, fierce, polite, modest and, best of all, a Malfoy. Now that's the kind of girl you should marry, he would say. He was adamant that I should marry you. So much so that I was always forced to give you attention and affection. If I was at the manor to play with Draco, I was told to include you. At my birthday parties, I had to cater to your needs. Be a gentleman, he would say. He was always reminding me to be good to you, in the hopes you would grow to love me as time went by."

"You should have heard how happy he was when you agreed to go to the Yule Ball with me," he scoffed. "He was already planning for you to marry me after one ball. He said it was just the alliance we would need and the perfect blood to mix with the Nott line. I thought that after that I was free of his insistent nagging when it came to you, but it only became worse. He was always owling me asking if you were happy, if you were content. Listing ideas of what to do for you, and even telling me ways to be better for you. It didn't matter though, no matter what I did you were always indifferent. Even when our fathers were taken after the ministry you didn't seek any comfort from me. You wanted Draco."

"You never even thought about the fact that I was hurting as well. That I could have used some damn affection. I lost my father too. The weight of my family fell to me as well. You never thought of me, you only thought of Draco. It's always Draco."

"Why did you stay with me then?" Graces demanded. "Why didn't you just tell your father to shove it and date who you liked?"

"Because I loved you," Nott frowned. "I was raised to love you. I can't even imagine my life with another woman. You, in my mind, are mine. And I'll be damned if I don't have you."

"That's not love; that's brainwashing. Your father should have never done such a thing. You need to start imaging your life differently, Nott, because I'm not yours," Graces proclaimed defiantly. "You will never, ever have me."

"If I can't have you, no one will," Nott swore darkly, his eyes alive with something dangerous.

"Someone already has," Graces smirked, moving her brother's night shirt over and revealing a small bite mark that Neville had left the night before under her collar bone. She usually removed such blemishes, but she had found something erotic in this one, and chose to leave it for herself. A reminder of the time she had been with him. A mark that she felt no compulsion to be rid of.

Nott, as expected, did not have the same feelings of affection for Graces' trinket.

"Who?"

"Now, now, Theo," Graces said sweetly. "I didn't ask for the name of your conquest, you should know better than to ask the name of mine."

Nott took a few menacing steps forward his eyes locked on the area of skin where the mark was.

"I am not _yours_ ," Graces gritted.

"Your brother is going to pay for more than just his failure," Nott threatened.

"Just remember, Theodore, that for every ounce of pain you inflict on my brother I shall inflict it three times over on you."

"I'll take that challenge," Nott grinned, moving to take the letter out of Graces' hand.

But Graces jerked away, clinging to the letter tightly with all her might. She decided that if it was war the Nott heir wanted, it was war he was going to get. Before the larger boy could contemplate what was going on Graces was sprinting out of the bathroom stalls and jumping back into Draco's bed, shaking her brother awake.

"Graces! What the bloody hell—"

"Nott's going to punish you for the Dark Lord, look." Graces was thrusting the letter into her brother's chest before he was even able to fully open his eyes. Groggily Draco rose from where he was sleeping, aware that now the whole dorm was up thanks to his sister's knack for dramatics.

Calmly, he smoothed out the piece of paper and leaned back in his bed to read. He made sure to maintain a mask of complete tranquility, as though he were merely reading a book. When he finished he looked over to Nott standing in in between the door to the loo and his bed.

"Is there a reason for my sister having such a private letter?" Draco inquired curiously.

Nott shifted his footing for a moment, before sitting up and shaking his head.

"These letters are supposed to be burned when we finish reading them," Draco drawled, now moving his long legs over to the ledge and standing up. "If found it can be incriminating, especially this one. This one implicates not only myself as a Death Eater, but you as well. I would think that after our fathers' hearing you would wish for that to remain a secret." Draco was now digging through his trunk, searching for something while the rest of the room watched in silence. "Also, I thought I made it clear that you were not to be alone with Graces for any reason. I also made it clear that I did not want you worrying her with matters that did not concern her. Considering that she has this letter, I assume you did not respect any of my wishes."

Draco now had what it was he was looking for and placed the letter in a wooden box, muttering some sort of incantation, before carefully placing it in Graces hands.

"For you, my dear sister," he said affectionately, kissing the frown on her forehead. "Security, should you ever wish to lock up Mr. Nott here."

"You would be put away as well," Nott pointed out, his face paling.

"I trust that my sister would only use this as a last resort," Draco said casually, taking a seat on his bed. "Also, the letter doesn't implicate me as much as it implicates you. You were quoted as one of the most loyal servants, a title that I have yet been deemed fit to have. Another thing you forget is my sister having that letter would greatly upset the Dark Lord. I don't think he would be happy knowing you are not following his most basic of orders."

Draco sat staring Nott down, daring him to try and take the magically locked box from his sister's hands. The air around them was tense tensely as both boys that shared the Dark Mark stared one another down.

"Well?" Draco smirked.

"Well what?"

"You are to punish me. Go on, Nott. It wouldn't be wise to disobey more orders."

"Here? Now?" Nott asked, his voice rising ever so slightly. "Everyone would—"

"Excuses, excuses," Draco scolded. "You have an order, it was to be done immediately, so get on with it. Or do you have a hard time doing your work with an audience?"

Nott blushed, but drew his wand, pointing it over at Draco.

"Crucio," Nott cast with a grand flick of his wand.

Draco laughed as nothing happened.

"You have to mean it," he smiled, still laughing at the look on Nott's face as he stared at his wand in betrayal. "You mean to tell me you have the Dark Mark with no ability to do unforgivables? That's rich." Draco casually drew his wand from his nightstand. "I don't have that problem. Neither does Graces. Would you like us to demonstrate?"

Graces at once stood up, wand in hand, but Draco, knowing the exact unforgivable she seemed to want to use, placed a calming hand on her.

"Insult is sometimes greater than injury," he reminded, taking a quote from his father.

Graces pouted for a brief moment, before casting the Imperius curse and having Nott get on all fours like a dog and expose his stomach in a sign of submission. Draco chuckled at Nott's frustration, though everyone else in the room was silent.

"I think that is enough, Graces."

Draco moved off the bed and bent low to the ground so that only Nott could hear him and his breath was tickling his ear.

"I think the best thing for you to do is tell the Dark Lord you punished me and let this end here."

Nott gritted his teeth and swallowed hard, Draco silently prayed he was swallowing his silly pride and going to do as he requested.

"One day I will be back on top, and I will remember this, Nott. If I were you I would choose wisely."

Nott's eyes wandered over to Draco's for a moment, and in that moment Draco knew he had won this battle, but with his victory he had also started a war.

"The alliance is off," Nott declared standing up. "This means I won't be doing you any favors, Malfoy. The Dark Lord wants weekly reports on what you are doing. Any time I see idleness on your part, be aware I shall report it."

"Noted," Draco deadpanned, heading back over to his bed. "Oh, and, Theo, you should note that I would never allow my sister to marry a dog. Or a man that I've seen act like one."

"Maybe I'm done pining over your sister," Nott snarled, turning his back and walking towards his own bed.

Draco just chuckled at his offense. "That's why you moan her name every night, huh?" Nott turned back his eyes wide, and his cheeks flushed. "Yeah, I noticed. We all have. I only ignored it so long out of respect. But now that respect is gone," Draco smiled. "I would silence your curtains from now on, unless you want to wake up to a nasty surprise."

Nott had no nasty words to say after that and before too long the excitement was over and everyone was back in bed. Draco couldn't help but grin into the darkness. He loved having the last word.

"Do you think that was wise?" Graces asked concerned.

"It's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

"What? No, I—"

"You woke me up, rather rudely I might add, and told me what was happening. You wanted this taken care of; I know you. And I took care of it. Also, you're the one that had him on the ground like a dog."

"I shouldn't have done that," Graces admitted, biting her lower lip.

"It's fine. I was tired of Nott anyways, and I needed a good laugh."

"We needed him though, now—"

"We don't need anyone but each other."

Graces nodded and curled up closer to him. Draco closed his eyes and prayed that what he said was in fact true. He honestly was worried. An alliance with Nott would have made things easier for him. Now the threat of the Dark Lord killing him was just raised significantly and there was no back up plan for Graces. A marriage to Nott would have guaranteed her safety in the event he and his family were sentenced to death.

"I love you," Graces sighed, drifting back off into slumber, not aware that Draco spent the whole night watching her, more terrified than ever of what was to be her fate.


	27. Chapter 27

Neville desperately wanted to believe that neither Graces or her brother were involved in what happened to Katie. No one else seemed to think that they could have been involved, but Harry seemed insistent that Draco was. While everyone else seemed keen to ignore Harry's theory of Draco being a Death Eater, and him setting out a trap that somehow ended up going askew and hurting Katie, Neville couldn't shake the feeling that it may be true. Ron and Hermione easily dismissed it, but they didn't know all that Neville did.

Granted, Neville didn't know if Draco was a Death Eater, or even why he would set out to do anything that would end up accidentally hurting Katie, but he did know that something was going on with the Slytherin boy. It was hard not to pick up on things about Draco when he was always the center of Graces' world. The first night they were together was, after all, because she was so worried about him that she had decided to drink herself numb. And in the same night she had told him about how Draco was punished by... well, punished by _him_. If Draco was being punished in the inner circle, wasn't it possible that he was a Death Eater like Harry was saying?

Neville had heard a bit of what Harry believed was going on late last night before he snuck out. Harry had been talking to Ron while they thought the rest of them were asleep. He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop on such a private conversation, but when he kept hearing the name Malfoy he wasn't able to help himself. He heard all about Draco's side trip into Knockturn Alley before school started, the sneaking away from his mother and sister, wanting something fixed, and showing his left arm and threatening the owner of Borgin and Burke's. Then there was the discussion Harry had apparently overheard on the train ride to Hogwarts where Draco had told Blaise he didn't think he would be at Hogwarts much longer, that he had better things to do. Ron had of course made a point that it was all circumstantial evidence at best, and also pointed out that his father had followed Harry's tip and a search team was not able to uncover anything from Malfoy Manor, but Neville saw a lot more reason to believe that Harry was on the right track.

Still, despite the evidence, he wanted to believe it wasn't true, that there was no connection between the Malfoys and Katie Bell's injury, but Graces hadn't met him in the Greenhouse. He had waited all night for her to show and she hadn't. She and Draco had also been missing from dinner, a sign Harry was declaring as evidence of their guilt. Neville had tried to approach her during breakfast, but the blonde had ignored him completely, clinging to her brother's side and refusing to look up to where he was sitting. Which was why he was once again standing in the hall waiting for Graces to finish tutoring the younger years, only this time he was smart enough not to drag her in a closet.

When the last of the younger years were gone, Graces emerged from the library.

"We need to talk," Neville whispered, taking the girls arm and leading her to an abandoned classroom, not allowing her to get away, even when she began trying to tug her arm free.

"Longbottom, let go of me!" she hissed.

Neville turned sharply into a random empty classroom before standing firmly against the door and facing Graces.

"Where were you last night?" Neville asked slowly.

"None of your business," Graces spat, brandishing her wand. "Now move."

Neville shook his head in refusal. "Not until you tell me what is going on."

"It's really simple. I couldn't make it out last night, which isn't that surprising considering what happened to Bell, and you decided to overreact and rudely force me into a classroom."

"You have been avoiding me all day," Neville gritted. "I even sent you an owl this morning, which you also ignored. You didn't come down for dinner last night, and you are being more odd than usual."

"I'm never odd!" Graces exclaimed, offended. "How dare you—"

"Does it have something to do with what happened to Katie?" Neville broke in, throwing propriety out the window.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Graces clipped coldly, her silver eyes taking on a dangerous look.

"Graces, don't do this," Neville begged. "Just tell me. Katie is really hurt. She almost died, and she still isn't well, if you know what caused this then—"

"So you automatically jump to the conclusion that Draco and I are involved," Graces interrupted, now seething with fury. "Well, that's just great. Glad to know you thought of me first."

"That is not fair," Neville argued. "You know I have reasons to believe that—"

"That I would hurt some random girl? That Draco would want to hurt some random girl? Did you think we were sore after last year's Quidditch match or something?"

Neville reddened, and immediately wanted to back down. He wanted to apologize and admit he had jumped to an awful conclusion, but something in him was nudging him to continue.

"I don't think Katie was the one meant to be hurt," Neville said slowly, watching for Graces reaction. She had seemed to calm down, and was waiting for Neville to say more. "I... uh... overheard Harry and Ron talking, and—"

"About me and Draco?" Graces gasped, her mask falling for a brief moment. Neville nodded, calmly still watching Graces. "What did they say?"

"Harry believes that you wore that outfit to distract most of the people at the bar, so that Draco could get the necklace to someone in the bathroom and have it delivered to someone at the castle," Neville muttered, flushing slightly from the accusation.

"I did not wear that outfit to distract people!" Graces shouted, a deep crimson blush staining her face.

Neville bit his lip, unsure if he really wanted to continue this line of questioning. "Well, you don't usually dress like ...like that," He muttered, his voice trailing off as he spoke.

"I did not look inappropriate!"

Neville knew Graces was offended, that he was already on dangerous ground and that if he continued like this there was a good chance he could damage her pride to the point where she would become vicious. He wanted to stop, to not argue with her, but he could still hear Katie's screams echoing in his head. He could still see her sheet white face burned into his eyes, and the soft sobbing of her friends in the Gryffindor common room.

"It wasn't that you looked inappropriate," he continued slowly. "It's just that it was out of the ordinary for you, and even I can't give reason for why you would make such a drastic change."

"So you just go with Potter's theory?"Graces asked bitterly. "Wait. What am I saying? Of course you would go with bloody Harry Potter's theory. Who wouldn't listen to the Chosen One. The golden boy—"

"That's not fair!" Neville argued. "I'm allowed to ask questions and I think this is a valid one. You almost never go anywhere without Draco, and all of the sudden you show up to the Three Broomsticks without him, dressed... well, dressed like that. If you weren't trying to distract everyone then why would you—"

"I WASN'T DRESSED LIKE THAT TO DISTRACT _EVERYONE_! I JUST WANTED TO DISTRACT YOU!"

Neville frowned. He was sure that what Graces was saying made sense, but it wasn't making sense to him.

"What? What do you mean distract me? Distract me from what?"

Graces continued to flush and looked away. Neville stood as still as possible waiting for Graces to work up some nerve to answer him. He watched as her face went from humiliation to anger to frustration.

"Surely, you're not that dense," she bit out, still refusing to look at him and instead staring at the corner of the floor.

Neville continued to frown, still not quite getting her meaning, until it suddenly dawned on him. He knew that the discussion they were having before was quite serious, but he couldn't suppress the small smile that came to his lips or the overwhelming feeling of joy that was warming his heart as he realized why Graces had dressed up.

For a few moments they just stood away from one another, Graces berating herself over her foolishness, and Neville rubbing the back of his neck thinking of what to say or do next. Eventually he moved towards her, and though she tried to shrug him off he continued to wrap his arms around her and moved his lips to the curve of her neck under her ear.

"You don't need to do anything to distract me, Graces," he said quietly. "You distract me without even being in the room. My thoughts are always with you."

He knew it was an exceptionally intimate statement to make. That it was the kind of statement that could have the girl in his arms pushing him away again, but Neville decided to stand by it and held Graces tighter against his chest as she continued to just look away. Neville didn't allow how tense Graces became to discourage him, and instead began gently making circles with his thumb on her arm and when she began to slowly relax he placed a small kiss on her neck.

"You know you don't have to say pretty things to get in my knickers," Graces said begrudgedly, still not quite meeting his eyes. "We already agreed to what this was."

"I'll keep that in mind," Neville nodded, allowing Graces to justify what they had however she needed for the time being. "Since there is no need for me to say as you call it 'pretty things' can I ask you to face me so I can hold you properly?"

Graces glowered for a moment, and eventually turned and faced him. Neville ignored the pettiness of Graces' turn and held her close to him until she laid her head on his chest. He knew something was wrong, he could tell by the way Graces was burying herself in his shirt, by the way she wrapped her arms around him so that her fingers were at his shoulder, and he knew she was purposely monitoring her breathing making sure to keep it steady.

"Graces," Neville said gently, moving his hands under her shirt so the warmth of his palms could be against her lower back, making slow flowing movements to comfort her. "I would never betray you, and it has nothing to do with that amulet you have around your neck. Do you believe me when I say that?"

Neville felt a series of emotions wash over him when Graces gave a small nod into his chest, and he continued to rub soothing circles on her bare back before continuing.

"Graces, what happened?" Immediately Graces tensed.

"I don't know."

"Graces, please Katie is really hurt and-"

"I said I didn't know!" Graces was now out of his arms and glaring at him. Neville sighed and reached out to touch her, but she jumped back. "Don't touch me. I know what you're doing and it won't work!"

"Doing? What are you talking about?"

"You're trying to manipulate me into talking to you. Hoping I would give you some detail that would betray my brother," Graces accused, her voice edging on hysteric. "Well, it won't work."

"Graces," Neville sighed, now rubbing his face irritatedly. "You are being ridiculous. I'm not some evil mastermind that wants to get you to hurt your brother. I was just trying to comfort you. I want you to tell me about what happened to Katie so we can get her help, but-"

"I don't know what happened to Katie!" Graces repeated again, anger rising up in her.

"You could talk to Draco, I'm sure he would-"

"I don't know if Draco did it!"Graces shrieked. "You think he tells me anything anymore? We barely speak. Draco would never confide anything like that in me. He would keep it a secret to allow me plausible deniability. I have no way of knowing what happened to Katie. I only can assume like the rest of you!"

Neville knew that Graces knew. Even if her brother was refusing to tell her anything, he could tell from the look of anguish all over her face and body language that she knew Draco was a part of it.

"You know some of it," Neville said sadly. "Maybe not all of it, but some. And you don't trust me enough to tell me."

Graces stood there silent, but holding herself up proudly. As though not telling Neville was justifiable, and daring him to argue.

"What do you think I would do?" Neville asked, examining her quick silver eyes tenderly. "Do you think I would say anything to anyone about it? That I would get Draco in trouble, even though I know how much he means to you?"

"You're a Gryffindor," Graces spat. "You would do it for justice."

"Maybe that is what I should do, but I wouldn't. I can't protect you the way Draco can. I don't have the same knowledge of what is happening on your side of the war to be able to do so. Keeping you safe means keeping Draco safe and I know it." Neville closed the distance between them and encircled Graces' hand in one of his while the other brushed against her cheek. "I would never let anything happen to you, Graces. And I certainly wouldn't take away one of the last people who can protect you. I wish you would trust me."

"I do trust you," Graces whispered, moving so that her hand was holding Neville's against her cheek. "If I didn't you would be dead. I would never allow you to live if I thought you would hurt Draco. I would have killed you the moment you asked about his involvement. I may not trust you completely, but I trust you to a great extent." Neville knew that what she was saying was true. That if she had thought for one moment he was a threat to Draco she would kill him. Neville wondered if she would even hesitate.

"Would you cry at my funeral, Miss Malfoy?"

"Don't be foolish. I wouldn't even attend," Graces smirked, not moving her hand from his; allowing his thumb to caress her cheek.

"I see," Neville whispered. "You would mourn in private, huh?"

Graces frowned, but she didn't deny Neville's joke. He stared down into her stormy eyes, and without understanding why pulled her into him and kissed her.

There was something calming about holding Graces, about knowing who she was and what he could expect from her for the time being. This was growth. To anyone else Graces' statements would have placed a certain amount of apprehension in someone's heart, but it didn't for Neville. This was the beginning stages of strong trust. Neville knew that this was in many ways twisted, but he didn't care. He held her tighter and wished for only a brief moment that she was normal enough that he could tell her he was falling in love with her.

Graces eventually pulled away, her eyes avoiding his as her cheeks flushed with a mixture of fever and embarrassment.

"Do you always kiss people that discuss killing you?" she asked, wanting the intimacy to be over and gone.

"Certainly not," Neville frowned playfully. "I didn't kiss your aunt, now did I? Or your father for that matter. I think if I kissed everyone who discussed killing me I would have snogged half your family."

Neville could tell Graces was trying not to laugh at his joke, but it bubbled out of her mouth before she could fully stop it. They were silent for a few moments, Neville holding Graces and her leaning her head on him.

"It was an accident," she whispered, staring off into the room and holding him tight. "A very unfortunate accident. Bell was never meant to be hurt." Neville nodded and pulled Graces more securely into his arms.

"Why did it happen though?"

"My trust doesn't extend that far for you," Graces said shaking her head, and pulling away leaving Neville with an empty feeling. "I have to go. I should have been in my common room hours ago."

"Oh, okay," Neville conceded sadly. "Good night." Graces was almost at the door before Neville called out again. "Graces! Can I see you tomorrow? After classes, I have something to tell you."

Graces turned and frowned for a moment at the door. "Is it important?"

"Uh... You may feel it is."

"Stop avoiding the question, Longbottom. Is it important?"

There was a pregnant silence. A silence in which Neville debated telling Graces what he needed to discuss with her. _If you don't tell her, and she finds out you can kiss that trust she has gained for you goodbye._

"Luna knows about us..." Graces didn't respond at all, she just stood motionless and wide eyed on the floor. "I didn't tell her," Neville continued quickly. "Don't worry she would never tell. She's even excited about it. Anyways, she just figured it out. She said something about you in the bathroom, smiling, stuff like that, and then she—"

"Please stop talking," Graces whispered, her hand up in the universal sign to stop as she clutched her stomach. For a moment, Neville wondered if she was about to be sick, and rushed to her side offering her his hand to support her, but the blonde eventually pulled herself up. "Does Lovegood mean something to you?"

"You are not seriously thinking of hurting Luna, are you?" Neville asked, surprised at the venom in his voice.

"She knows about us," Graces stressed. "Do you have any idea what will happen to me if—"

"Luna is my Draco," Neville said firmly. "She's family, and I won't let any harm come to her. Do you understand?"

"You would just allow the harm to come to me," Graces surmised, tearing away from him.

"That's not fair," Neville gritted, trying to be patient. "You sound like you want to kill her for that. Don't you think that is a little dramatic? I know you would be disowned, but come on, do you honestly think Draco would do that to you?"

Neville expected Graces to continue arguing with him, but instead the blonde just stared at him. The stare began to wear on him, it didn't seem like the glare of someone upset. It was as though Graces' mind was figuring out something, and that something made her even more sick than the knowledge of Luna.

"Graces, are you okay?"

"I want an unbreakable vow from her," Graces muttered, not looking up at Neville but using his broad shoulders for support as she stared down at her feet shaking like a leaf.

"An unbreakable vow? Graces, that's ri—"

"If you can't get her to agree we are through. I mean it, Longbottom, we'll be done. I'll go to another country and pay a Legilimens to go in my head and destroy every memory of you. I swear to the Gods above and below I will."

"Do you know how dangerous that is? How much damage that causes? Not to mention how rare it is for someone to have it done and not suffer any permanent damage with memory and-"'

"I am aware of all of that, and I don't care. You will get her to agree or it will be done. I want it done tomorrow morning after breakfast."

"An unbreakable vow is a serious thing, Graces. You won't even let her think about it for a day?"

"No. Tomorrow morning, or we are done. I'll pay whatever it takes to forget about you, about this and if that payment includes my mind, I won't care."

Graces was now tearing towards the door, not allowing Neville to argue with her further. She paused for a brief moment and looked over at him.

"I don't want this to end, Longbottom. I... I like you. Maybe even more than just like, possibly fancy..." Graces was bright red, and she seemed to be having a hard time continuing. "But... I can't risk Lovegood talking. I... I just can't. I'm not a Gryffindor. Self-preservation," Graces shrugged. "Please, do this for me. For us. If you aren't in the first floor girls' bathroom tomorrow with Luna after breakfast, I'll assume this is over. I really hope I'll see you there." Neville could hardly breathe as Graces looked up at him, her silver eyes gleaming from unfallen tears before she left the room.

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Neville did not want to do this. It felt wrong to ask Luna to make such a sacrifice. It wasn't her responsibility to do these things for him, but at the same time he couldn't not ask. He had stayed up most of the night writing letter after letter to Graces telling her he wouldn't do it, only to throw each letter in the trash before sending it. He wanted to send the letters, but each time he finished one he felt like he was just saying goodbye. Goodbye to her forever, and with that thought he couldn't do it.

"Luna," Neville said quietly, blushing as a few Ravenclaws who obviously heard the rumors giggled around him.

"Neville!" Luna didn't seem to mind the muttering, and just jumped up from her seat and flung herself forward, giving Neville a surprisingly bone-crushing hug. "Are you here to have breakfast with me? We have blueberry muffins today. They're my favorite."

"Umm.. sure, do you want to take some and eat in the courtyard?"

"Like a picnic?"

Neville nodded, and helped Luna grab a few muffins before they both walked over to the courtyard.

"Luna," Neville began, once they were alone in the courtyard. "I... I have to ask you something, for a favor and—"

"I can do it," Luna said, picking the blueberries out of her muffin and tossing them on the ground for Nargles.

"You don't even know what it is yet," Neville frowned, now feeling truly awful considering how much Luna trusted him to not ask so much.

"Okay," Luna hummed, "What is it then?"

"I... I told Graces about how you knew, and, well, she didn't take it very well." Luna just continued to stare up at him, with her glass eyes. "She... she wants you to make an unbreakable vow not to tell." Neville couldn't bring himself to tell Luna about how Graces was going to never see him again if she refused. It didn't seem right to place that on her shoulders.

"That's fine," Luna shrugged, popping the whole top of the muffin in her mouth causing her cheeks to puff.

"Luna, it's not fine. You do not have to do that. You, of course can say no."

Luna just waved her hand around in the air, dismissing Neville's statement.

"Is fine," she mumbled her mouth filled with sweetness, before she began swallowing it down.

Neville stopped walking and turned to face Luna, placing both of his hands on her shoulders and lowering himself down to her eye level.

"An unbreakable vow is serious, Luna," he said slowly. "Breaking it means—"

"That I'll die." Luna didn't seem at all bothered by this fact. She seemed to accept it as easily as the sky was blue, and dismiss it as easily too. "I am in Ravenclaw, Neville. I understand what an unbreakable vow is, and I have no qualms agreeing to it."

Neville nodded, and told Luna of how they were to meet Graces in the first floor girls' bathroom. The two of them walked in silence, Luna looking up at him the whole time.

"Why are you upset?"

"You shouldn't have to do this," Neville whispered, not looking up from the ground.

"I don't mind."

"I do," Neville stated, clearly growing angry. "It's not right."

Luna stopped before the bathroom door.

"What will happen if I don't do it?" Luna asked, curiosity evident in her voice. Neville blushed and told her not to concern herself with it. "It was apparently important enough to ask," Luna pointed out, moving her hand on the door handle teasing it with her touch.

"She...she said she would end this... and even go as far as to ensure she can't remember me. Remember us."

Luna nodded, and began opening the door.

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"Good morning, Graces." Graces turned from the sink to see Luna skipping into the girls' bathroom. A beaming smile on her face. "I saved you a muffin. Neville and I had a picnic of sorts this morning. There was no blanket, but it still counts as a picnic doesn't it?"

Graces looked over at Neville who had remained by the door, a pointed look in her direction letting her know she was expected to be nice.

"Yes, I suppose it does. Thank you," Graces said quietly, awkwardly taking the torn up muffin.

"I took the blueberries out," Luna mused. "For the Nargles. They like blueberries. Do you like blueberries?"

Graces shook her head, and played with a few crumbs on the muffin. "Not really. Sometimes in sweets."

Luna nodded and then proceeded to stare at Graces with her wide eyes. It was becoming very uncomfortable for the Slytherin the longer Luna just continued to stare, but she did her best to just bare it and face her.

"Sh-should we just get on with it then?" Graces asked, after what seemed like hours.

"Don't want to exchange more pleasantries?" Neville scoffed, moving from the door to stand between the two girls. "Or finish your breakfast?"

Graces looked away from Neville and his harsh words. She was staring away when Luna's hand reached out in front of her. She stared at it a moment, wrinkling her nose at the dirt under the nails.

"We're supposed to hold arms," Luna instructed, smiling pleasantly as though she did not notice Graces scowl or the discomfort lingering in the room. Graces eventually reached out to grasp Luna's forearm, though she was still refusing to meet anyone's eyes. "You smell nice," Luna commented dreamily. "Neville, don't you think she smells nice?"

Neville looked at Luna for a moment, and then over to Graces before nodding grudgingly.

"It's like... lavender, cotton and-and something else," Luna continued, not realizing how awkward the situation was becoming. "Do you wear perfume?"

"No, I-I can't wear perfumes," Graces said awkwardly, trying to speak louder but only managing a whisper. "I'm too sensitive." Luna just stood waiting for Graces to continue, though the blonde was hesitant to. "I, uh, use a lavender soap, a... rose shampoo and a non-scented lotion."

"There's something else though," Luna hummed, moving closer. "I can't put my finger on it."

"Lilies," Neville muttered. "Pink Lilies and white cotton."

"It's really intoxicating, isn't it?" Luna asked, looking at Graces as though she were something to be studied.

"It is," Neville agreed, but still refusing to look at Graces at all.

Graces was now staring up at Neville, something twisting inside her at the way he was speaking about her. He sounded hollow, and for some reason the hollowness in his voice as he described her made a lump grow in her throat.

"I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't, aren't I?" she asked, moving her hand away from Luna.

"You are not damned if you don't," Neville stressed. "Luna would never tell anyone. Why can't you just trust me on this? Why do you have to endanger my friend? Name one reason for this vow? There is no need for this damn vow, Graces. No reason."

"Sure there is," Luna declared, taking Graces arm back. "Peace of mind." Graces stared at Luna for a moment, not understanding her at all and frightened by the understanding she was receiving. Luna reached up and tucked a strand of her hair away, allowing her fingers to linger. "You don't have much peace do you, Graces?"

Graces went to move away, but Luna pulled her back taking her arm and moving Graces' fingers so they were encircling her own. "I want to give you peace Graces."

"Luna, this is really dan—"

"Neville Longbottom, I'm a big girl that is capable of making her own decisions," Luna interrupted, sending Neville a scolding glare. "I am well aware of the dangers of an unbreakable vow, and I am still consenting to it."

"I just don't feel right about you doing this for me," Neville sighed, running a hand through his sandy hair as he shook his head.

"I'm not doing this for you," Luna corrected, looking back over to Graces. "I'm doing it for Graces, and if you refuse to bond the vow we will find someone else. Won't we, Graces?"

Graces hesitated to answer, and again looked over to Neville. Would he ever forgive her for this? Could she forgive herself if she didn't take the vow and Luna accidently told?

"Neville is quick to forgive," Luna reminded, leaning into Graces neck, so Neville couldn't hear. "He will understand if you give him opportunity to." Graces wanted to say something, but her tongue couldn't seem to move. It felt as though it were dead weight in her mouth. She closed her eyes and took a few steadying breaths, afraid that she was going to make herself sick with anxiety. "He will forgive you, Graces. I promise."

Graces never imagined that she would be gripping Luna Lovegood's arm for support. That she would have to stop herself from moving into her and hiding, but that seemed to be where she was at. Luna was in no way her friend. She had no desire to ever speak to her after this, but she was the person in the room that made her feel at ease. She was the only witch who had ever offered her something this great with no strings attached. Slowly she nodded her head, and tightened her grip even firmer around the small girl's arm.

"We're ready now, Neville," Luna said, her eyes never leaving Graces.

Graces saw Neville move closer, but kept her eyes on Luna.

"Will you, Luna Lovegood, keep mine and Longbottom's affair a secret?"

"I will."

"Will you swear not to give any hint to anyone that you have an idea of something going on between us?"

"I will."

"And not breath a word of us having so much as a friendship?"

"I swear."

"Unless we choose to go public," Neville added, looking over at Graces with a look that said he would have no argument. "Add that in."

"Will you keep these vows for the rest of your life unless both Longbottom and I choose to go public," Graces repeated hollowly.

"I will."

A brilliant gold string issued from Neville's wand and wrapped around Graces and Luna's hands and wrists. Intertwining so neither knew where it began or ended, until it dimmed away into nothing.

Graces opened her mouth to thank Luna, but before any words could escape her lips Neville had moved his arm around the Ravenclaw girl and was briskly walking with her to leave. Luna looked back at Graces giving her an apologetic look before the bathroom door closed and Graces was left all alone.

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"You are being rude," Luna intoned, as Neville continued to push her down the hall, not seeming to notice she was having a great deal of difficulty keeping up with his pace.

"I don't care."

"People tend to say that when they do care," Luna pointed out, deciding to skip to keep up with Neville's strides. "It's an odd thing. Do you believe that if you deny your feelings they won't exist?"

"Luna, I am in no mood," Neville warned, maneuvering in and out of students rushing to class.

"You most certainly are in a mood," Luna giggled, not caring that Neville was so angry. "You're in a very foul mood."

"Well, I don't really have any reason to be in a mood other than foul do I?"

Luna stopped her skipping and jerked Neville's cloak so he could no longer stride away.

"Maybe you should ponder on this," she suggested, her smile disappearing. "Why would she feel the need to obliterate all memory of you?"

"Because heaven forbid she doesn't have things her way," Neville snarled, reveling in his righteous anger towards Graces.

"She could have just threatened to call this all off in order to get her way. There was no need to endanger her own mind. I think that she knew she would not have been able to stay away from you." Neville stared at Luna. "She needs to forget everything about you in order to keep away from you, Neville. I think that maybe you should focus on that for a bit. See if your mood changes."

Luna then turned and skipped off down the hall towards her class, leaving Neville with her words. Neville knew that he should continue on to his own class, but he couldn't seem to muster up the strength to leave the hall he was standing in. His next class was Herbology. He would have to face Graces, and at the moment he did not feel that was the best of ideas. One downfall of Graces being the only person he felt comfortable enough to display his anger towards, was that he would display his anger towards her. And Neville, despite how much he was infuriated with the blonde, did not want to yell or be cruel towards her.

_Well that settles that. I obviously can't go to class._

Neville briefly considered heading back to the common room, but he really didn't feel like being cooped up. Knowing he could not stay in the castle without getting in trouble with Filch and Mrs. Norris, he decided to walk far off the grounds. He passed by the Greenhouse and felt a tinge of guilt for not being in there. Graces was so horrible with the practical aspect of the lessons, and he knew that she would be struggling today, but he still felt the distance would be better. He didn't want to be outright angry towards her. He needed to cool off, to get more of a grip on his feelings so that he wasn't just being hostile towards her.

_It's not a dangerous plant today, she will be fine. I, however, need to calm down._

With that thought in mind he walked past the greenhouse and towards the lake. He didn't even walk with any conscious thought. It seemed his legs were guiding him all on their own, as though they knew where he should go. Neville breathed in the cold morning air, and for a moment missed being home in the countryside with his gran. If he was home he would spend the morning gardening and walking to town, running errands for his gran. He missed having early morning walks like that, time when he could be alone with his thoughts. He didn't have much time for that at school. Even now as he walked along the lake it was stolen time as he should be in class, but he so desperately needed it.

He needed time to think and to be alone. To have a moment of peace and not be distracted by pretty blondes or whispers about Katie Bell. He just needed to be alone and regroup. He refused to feel guilty for needing that. Eventually as he walked he stopped thinking of all the things plaguing his mind, and his mind began to drift: to the plants around the lake, to fond remembrances of being afraid of the giant squid until Seamus and Dean tackled him into the lake to prove that any monsters lurking had better things to do than attack students. He thought of Harry during the triwizard tournament with the merpeople, and then finally to Graces. His mind always seemed to wander over to her eventually. He thought about how nice it would be to be holding hands with her as they walked around the lake, and longed to live in a world where that was possible.

With a heavy sigh, he took a seat down under some trees and allowed his mind to tease him with daydreams of such a world.

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Graces had had a miserable time in herbology. And it wasn't because her plant immediately began to wilt, as though it was depressed by the sight of her, nor because Granger and Abbott ended up being her partners and both had ignored her. Actually, if she was being honest that was probably the only good part of class. What made their partnership truly awful was that both girls had not stopped talking about Neville the whole period: where he could be, why he wasn't at breakfast, how they had seen him with Luna in the halls, and that it was so out of character for him to skip class. On and on they discussed Neville's absence, not realizing that Graces was the reason.

But Graces knew, and the phrase absence makes the heart grow fonder rang in her ears all through the period. She missed Neville working with her, missed how patient he was with her, missed the small talk he would insist on having, even though she would ignore it. She missed his awful herbology jokes, made right at the time when she was getting frustrated, and she just in general missed him.

For the first time in her life she wished that she was a Gryffindor, that she could be brave enough to trust others with the skin on her back. It was a silly wish, a wish that her father would have scolded her for having, a wish that her brother would have insisted she give up, but still it resided in her. If she had possessed even a small amount of that bravery she could have allowed Luna to walk out of that bathroom with no vow between them, Neville would not be away from her, and—

— _your brother, mother, and father would be executed. Stop this nonsense at once. You did what you had to do. You kept the people you love safe. You did what was smart. Let morality be damned and your family live._

Graces took a few steadying breaths to gather herself. This was not at all how she expected to feel after the vow. She had thought a weight would have been lifted off her chest, that she would finally be able to breathe easy again, but in actuality she felt as though that pressure in her chest had doubled. She felt like she was going to lose Neville.

It was odd feeling the terror that came with the thought. She was well aware that she was not going to ever have a happy ending with the sandy haired boy. That what was going on between them would end. Had to end. And yet, she missed him so much right now she ached. She didn't love him. Graces knew that she didn't love him, but she now realized that he had gone past just being someone she enjoyed spending her time with and was now someone she in many ways needed.

All of the sudden feeling very sick, she lingered back from the group of Herbology students heading back to the castle. No one noticed her absence. The whole class seemed determined to just pretend that a Slytherin was not in their midst, so it wasn't hard to sneak away to the lake instead of head to her next class. She already felt better as the last student entered the castle. She needed some space. She needed to think of how to approach Neville the next time she saw him. She started walking aimlessly around the lake, just trying to clear her head in order to think.

_If I was home I could use my father's pensieve. I should buy one of my own. They're exceptionally useful. It's not like I couldn't afford one, I just never got around to getting one. I should owl mother and—_

The blond girl's thoughts were immediately interrupted when she saw Neville sitting in front of her by the lake. Graces stood looking at Neville for a moment. She knew he was angry, that this anger was different from the other times she had upset him, and she genuinely didn't know what to do. She watched as Neville stared out into the water, and wondered if he now regretted her. She imagined he did. Imagined that things were different when no one he loved was in danger, but now that Luna had taken the vow that surely changed his feelings. She wanted to make him understand, to tell him everything: that disownment was not what she faced if they were ever discovered, that she was facing a fate worst than death unless Draco mercifully killed her himself, but she couldn't bring herself to place that burden on him and couldn't risk him leaving if he knew.

Graces slowly inched closer to where Neville was sitting and gently came up and ran her hand down the back of his head to his neck, like she had seen her mother do thousands of times when her father had been mad with her. Neville turned and looked at her, and she leaned down and gently kissed his lips. It stung when he didn't kiss her back, but she just closed her eyes and lingered near him. He had not pushed her away either.

"I want to tell you a story," she murmured, blindly wrapping her arms around him and kneeling to her knees. "And I am hoping that you are not too angry with me not to listen."

Graces opened her eyes when she felt Neville's warm palm against her cheek.

"I'm listening."

Graces nodded and took a steadying breath as Neville moved to allow her to sit with him. Neville was always kind. This was one of the things she so loved about him, that he was always willing to listen, to forgive, to be affable rather than callous. She knew he was angry, but unlike her he was willing to put his anger aside so he could understand.

_You love something about him?_

_I love a trait he has, that is allowed._

"My father always wanted my mother," Graces started, nervously winding her fingers in a piece of her long hair. "And being a Malfoy, he had come to just expect the things he wanted. All the other girls in Slytherin would have died to be with my father. He was handsome, rich, ambitious, captain of the Quidditch team and had this air about him that demanded respect from all. He was extremely popular. I think that he just expected my mother to see that he was the best and automatically be with him without any thought. But, to my father's dismay, when he asked my mother out fourth year to a ball she declined."

"My father could not believe it at first. He thought she was just playing hard to get, and acted at first like he didn't care. He even asked out another girl, trying to get my mother jealous, but it didn't work."

Neville looked over at Graces briefly and waited for her to continue.

"She felt he was a pompous, arrogant ass, and made it a pastime to ignore him any chance she got. One time, it must have been my mother's 5th year at Hogwarts, she was dating this boy and they had been on a few dates here and there, but nothing really serious yet. Anyways, after one particular date I guess he was getting a bit handsy, and my father jumped out of nowhere and hexed him against the wall. He then proceeded to beat the poor bloke bloody saying he was to keep his hands and lips off his future wife."

"You're kidding," Neville stated in disbelief. "What did your mum do?"

"She threw a huge fit, ended up hexing my father so badly he had to stay with Pomfrey for a day, and even went in and screamed at him in the hospital wing. She was absolutely livid. My mother isn't the kind of woman to yell. When she is mad she allows her silence to show you her anger, but she made an exception for my father on this occasion and yelled at him when he was laid up in the hospital wing. She called him an assortment of names and declared that she would never, ever be his wife, that she hated him and never wanted to see him again."

"I bet your father liked that."

Graces turned and smiled over at Neville. "He did. My mother thought it would just deter him from her, but it did the opposite. After she did that he was completely in love with her. She was the only person to ever dare speak to him like that, and therefore the only one that he could ever see as an equal. He loved that my mother had this fierceness about her, that she didn't let him intimidate or manipulate her into thinking what he wanted. He just loved everything about her. The problem was that my mother didn't know him."

"My father said that he knew the moment she left the hospital wing that his life would be empty without her, and swore he would make her fall in love with him. Do you know what he did?" Graces asked, looking over at Neville who shook his head. "He humbled himself to her."

"He started making it a point to follow her to class and ask her about her day, to read the books she was reading and listen to the music she liked. He would talk _to_ her and not at her. And he was patient. It didn't happen overnight, and it was a hard process for him. My father doesn't allow many people to see him, and it was difficult at first for him to strip himself down and be just himself with her. Not to mention it was hard for him to get her alone to show her who he was, but it worked. My mother is an early riser, and my father took to waking up with sun like her so he could have an hour alone with her a day."

"It started out with him just sitting quietly at the morning breakfast table, then he started asking her one question a day. Usually simple things like if she finished this essay, or what she thought of that week's potion assignment. But slowly he started asking more meaningful questions and then they actually began to have discussions."

"By the end of her 6th year she was always thinking of him. She went from hating his guts and never wanting to see him, to getting butterflies in her stomach at the sight of him and anxiously awaiting their early Saturday morning breakfast in the Great Hall. And during the summer when my father owled her asking to take her on a date she accepted."

"Graces," Neville said slowly. "As much as I enjoy hearing about your fam—"

"I'm not done," Graces whispered, bringing her finger to Neville's mouth. "My mother told me that it was during the date when she realized she was in love with him. She said it was the most magical night of her life. She and father just sat at a private table for hours talking and talking and at the end of the night when he took her home he kissed her goodnight. She went to bed that night feeling as though she had drank a bottle of amortentia. She said it was like a heaven had been born for her on earth. Everything was perfect. But when she woke up her whole world had crumbled over night."

"My mother has two older sisters, did you know that?"

Neville shook his head, he really had not kept up on pureblood families.

"Her other sister's name was Andromeda. She was a year older than my mother. They had all three been very close growing up, but Andromeda became more distant with my mother that year. My mother had just assumed it was because she was so busy preparing to graduate and she didn't want her annoying kid sister pestering her all the time, but it wasn't. She had apparently been seeing some mudblood in Hufflepuff, Edward Tonks, and the morning after my mother and father's first date she had run away to marry him."

"My mother and my aunt Bellatrix were ruined," Graces whispered, looking out into the water imagining what it would have been like. "It was such a great scandal; no one could ignore it. The middle Black daughter running away in the middle of the night to be wed, is of course something that is scandalizing, but add to it a muggleborn and it's ... it's just so much worse. Everyone was convinced that it was my grandparents' fault for doting so much on their daughters. Then there was of course discussion about the moral values that the Black daughters were being raised with."

Neville watched as Graces stared out into the water. She looked so sad, he didn't understand why she felt sad about events she was not around for. Clearly it all worked out in the end.

"My father stopped owling my mother after that, and my aunt Bellatrix's engagement was called off by her fiance. He said he refused to marry a woman of such low caliber, that he wouldn't taint his own family tree with such a disgraceful branch. My grandfather, in his fears that what people were saying were true and that this was all indeed his fault, started locking my mother and aunt up in their rooms at night. Can you imagine becoming a prisoner in your own house like that? It was terrible for them. My grandfather just... lost it. The Blacks tend to have a temper... It's a family trait, and as you can imagine my mother and aunt had to face that rage on a daily basis."

"In a last effort to try and salvage the family my grandfather arranged a courting ceremony for both his daughters, the dowry being everything he had. He had hoped that money and a lavish, old, pure-blooded tradition would be able to bury all memory of his disowned daughter. He really did want my mother and aunt to have good marriages. He wanted to know that they would be taken care of and have happy lives. He was harsh on them that summer, but he did love them. And... and he was scared for them. Especially with the rise of the Dark Lord, he was worried what would happen to his little girls if the pureblood society they lived in saw them as tainted. People were already starting to disappear every day. He wasted no expense on the ceremony, and sold as much as he possibly could in order to give both girls a dowry that he hoped would persuade any suitor to forget what was being whispered, but it wasn't enough. My aunt's ceremony passed without a single suitor and my mother's did as well."

"My mother said she cried all summer non-stop after that. She had been sure that my father would have at least came, but he didn't. His invitation had even been sent back without being opened." Graces looked over at Neville now her eyes clouded like a winter storm. "She did that to them. How could someone do that to their own sisters, ruin their lives like that?"

"She was in love," Neville defended.

"That makes it okay to rip away two other people's happiness? To embarrass the family that had loved and raised you?"

"I'm sure that she didn't mean—"

"She knew what would happen. She knew what would have been done," Graces said bitterly. "She had grown up in our world her whole life; she knew. My aunt joined the Dark Lord after that. She felt she needed to prove her loyalty and saw that Regulus had restored some of the family name with his joining after Sirius had left as a blood traitor. It wasn't enough, though. It wasn't enough to save my mother's reputation."

"So what changed things?" Neville asked. "Obviously, your father and her were married. What happened?"

Graces gave a little smile, and Neville watched as her anger diminished.

"My father happened," she said quietly. "My mother returned to school, and was of course isolated. No one spoke to her or showed her any kind of kindness. After the sorting ceremony she was in the common room and about to sneak off to bed, knowing she wasn't welcome to join the others and my father stood up in the common room and called her name stopping her."

"He said Narcissa Black, you are a ruined woman. You have been black listed among the purebloods, and cast away from all good society. No man is willing to marry you, even with a generous dowry. Of course at this point my mother was crying, but my father didn't relent. He walked right over to her and continued. He went on to say any man that even considered her to be a bride risked the same fate. And that only a foolish man would risk a fate like hers, a fate worse than death. Then he got down on his knees, took out a ring, and said, 'Narcissa Black, I am a foolish man.'"

"My father didn't go to the ceremony because the first part of the ceremony involves a ritual to make the girl forget who all the men are. It's done so a woman can eliminate suitors and there be no discussion on if she had given them a chance. He was convinced that my mother would eliminate him. She had disliked him so greatly before she had gotten to know him. He knew that no other men were planning on going to the ceremony, but he felt that my mother had despised him so greatly that she would still eliminate him even if he was the only suitor. The magic of the ceremony guarantees that once a suitor is eliminated that woman will never wed him." Graces smiled for a moment. "It's actually a rule that favors the woman being courted, s family couldn't force a girl to marry a suirtor she disliked, but in this case it worked against my parents."

"As you know my mother agreed to marry him, and my father set to work to repair the damage that was done to her name. If anyone uttered a word against the Black girls' virtues they would disappear. People eventually caught on that my father would have no one speak harshly about his fiancée. He even went and paid a dowry to my aunt's old fiance to get him to take her back. And that is how Bellatrix Black became Bellatrix Lestrange. As you can imagine the marriage was no longer a happy affair after that, but my aunt wanted it nonetheless, though not for the typical reasons. You see as part of my aunt and uncle's marriage agreement they have a fidelity charm, and as you realize my aunt has never born my uncle any children. Money can't fix everything I suppose. It can't fix betrayal. It did allow my aunt to gain revenge, though."

Graces turned and looked over to Neville. "Who would do that for Draco? How would my brother recover from such a scandal if people found out about us? He's the patriarch right now, and we are living in dangerous times. Not being able to keep his little sister in line would show a great weakness in him, and our enemies would be quick to rip him apart. I understand you want to protect Luna, but I want to protect Draco. He actually is my flesh and blood. I'm already doing so much against him, I can't allow him or anyone to ever find out. I know I should stop seeing you, but I can't. I need something to get me through the days. But I can at least make sure none of this touches Draco. I couldn't live with myself if I became my mother's sister. I couldn't. I would rather die a thousand deaths than hurt him the way she hurt my mother. That's why we can never go public." There was a pregnant silence after Graces' last statement. Neville remembered the look on her face when he added on to the unbreakable vow, and he felt his heart drop so low that it was beating in his stomach. He wondered if maybe this all should end, if it would be easier to cut the ties that bonded them now. He looked over at Graces to ask what she thought, but couldn't say anything as he looked over to discover that she had been staring imploringly at him the whole time. "Please understand me, I don't want to lose you as my friend. It's sad, but... you're the only one I feel I can talk to anymore. I think I would go mad without you."

Neville didn't know what to say after that. Part of him still wondered if ending things between them would be best. He didn't want anyone getting hurt, and it sounded like Draco was very much in danger of being hurt. But at the same time, Graces had basically just admitted to needing him, and he didn't want to leave her if she needed him. He would be lying if he didn't factor in his own selfish desire to still be with her.

_If you stay you will be in love with her when it has to end. You need to walk away. For your own self-preservation, walk away now!_

Neville closed his eyes for a moment, ignoring the harsh voice screaming in his head.

_I'm a Gryffindor, self-preservation be damned._

"I understand now," Neville said quietly. "I'm still not thrilled about Luna's vow, but... I understand why you felt such a need for it."

Graces did not respond right away. She sat on the damp ground for a long while just staring up at him.

"You-you really understand?"

"No, Graces, I just enjoy lying to you," Neville smirked, before being serious and leaning down and gently kissing her. "I understand. That's what happens when you talk to people, they tend to understand where you are coming from."

Suddenly, Graces' arms were around him, and Neville couldn't help but smile as Graces continued hugging him fiercely. He wondered how close she thought she was to him walking away from her. Not wanting her to have any doubts about where he stood on that subject he held onto her as well, making sure that he was the last to let go as she pulled away.

"So, we're friends now?" he smirked.

Graces gave Neville a small half smile. "I touched a half-blood's blood. I wouldn't do that for just anyone. We're friends. That is... if you want to be."

Neville thought about everything that Graces had just told him, allowing her words and Luna's words to swirl around in his head. Silently he reached out and took her hand in his. It was going to be a hard road with Graces and he knew it. He knew that odds were his heart would be torn apart at the end of it, but if he turned back now then he would be a coward. Because only a coward would turn away from a girl like Graces for self-preservation. And Neville Longbottom with all his flaws was no coward.

"I want to be."


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ! If you have not read William Shakespeare's "The Taming of the Shrew" you will miss a joke/important moment between Graces and Neville in this chapter. PLEASE do me a solid and google The Taming of the Shrew Important Quotations Explained/ click on the first link that shows up/ scroll to scene two where there is a discussion about wasps. I just want you all to get the joke

"Hungry today?" Draco asked as his sister moved to place three more sausages on her plate.

"What are you trying to say, Draco?" Graces demanded, taking a defiant bite of the link.

"That you are eating a lot."

"We had a very challenging run this morning," Graces shrugged, continuing on to her toast.

Draco moved some eggs around on his plate for a few seconds before pushing the dish away. He saw his sister watch him from the corner of his eye and hoped she would just let it go.

"You have to eat."

_Nope, not going to let it go._

"I'm just not hungry," Draco said lightly, looking up at the Great Hall ceiling, wanting the owls to arrive already with the Daily Profit.

"You haven't been hungry in days," Graces commented, smiling at a couple first years as they walked by her to take a seat. "Are you trying to starve yourself? Because I have to say, Draco, there are faster ways to go."

Draco rolled his eyes to his sister's antics and began going over his potion notes. He heard a crackling sound and looked over to see Graces unraveling a giant brick of chocolate.

"You're kidding," Draco deadpanned, as she broke off a piece and popped it into her mouth.

"Leave me alone."

"Have you been shagging someone without me knowing it? Are you knocked up or something?" Draco asked, half kidding.

"I told you I have been shagging Longbottom," Graces reminded "But don't worry there is no way he impregnated me. I'm on the potion."

"You're not funny," Draco sighed.

"I wasn't trying to be."

"You know, that is not the way to get me to eat, making me sick to my stomach."

"Maybe you should have a bout with Longbottom. I'm always starved after."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

Draco just smiled down at the table. Bantering with his sister was the only sense of normality he got these days. Even things like Quidditch had lost their luster for him, but having breakfast with Graces and joking around playfully made him feel like he was back in his body and not just an outsider watching as he was controlled. Slowly he pulled his plate of eggs back over to himself, and gave a half smile to Graces as she placed a piece of her chocolate on his plate.

"I'm sorry I'm stressing you out," Draco murmured, forcing another bite of eggs down.

"You're not stressing me out," Graces lied, melting some chocolate over her fruit.

"You're eating more chocolate than usual, and that is saying something considering you eat I think a full brick a day. You tend to drown your bad feelings in chocolate. I'm stressing you out."

"OR I just like chocolate."

"You threw up after our run."

"That was because I pushed myself too hard. Getting ready for the match this weekend and all. It was a mix of pushing too hard and nerves."

"Right," Draco nodded. "It had nothing to do with the seven chocolate frogs, three ice mice, a handful of Bertie Bott's and a cup of cocoa."

Graces narrowed her eyes and stopped melting the chocolate on her fruit.

"Well, that and I'm carrying around the next Longbottom heir. I guess I'm just having some cravings and morning sickness."

"You're such a bitch," Draco declared, smiling up at the ceiling. "I really hate you right now."

"You don't want a nephew or niece?" Graces teased, nudging her brother's shoulders.

"Not right now!" Draco exclaimed. "And definitely not from _Longbottom_."

Graces had a bout of laughter, before calming down and reassuring her brother that she was not pregnant.

"Like I said, I'm on the potion. So no worries there."

"Just stop talking," Draco laughed. "As the patriarch of this family I demand you stop talking until I finish my tea."

Graces stuck out her tongue, and Draco was about to begin lecturing her on reasons why ladies don't stick out their tongue when he noticed the post arriving. He paid for his paper and was about to start reading in his newly claimed silence when he noticed a white box being delivered to Graces. He looked at the familiar logo stained on the white canvas, and rolled his eyes.

"You ordered more clothes?" he asked, taking a sip of tea. "I thought you had enough after your shopping spree with Pansy before school."

Graces seemed genuinely confused by the box, and merely shook her head.

"You didn't order this? Or you didn't have enough?"

"I-I didn't order this."

Draco frowned and look down at the box again.

"Should I open it?" Graces asked nervously.

"Don't be silly," Draco scoffed, finishing his tea. "The packages are being checked very thoroughly now after the incident this weekend. Get excited, someone has sent you clothes. I'm surprised Pansy hasn't come over and—"

"What did you order **‽** "

"Nope, the surprise is gone," Draco muttered under his breath as the dark haired girl scooted him over so she could sit next to Graces as she opened the package.

Graces smiled as Pansy and a few other girls came over to see what she got. In truth she loved being the center of attention, so she was glad the sender sent her the package during breakfast. She decided to take her time opening the parcel, slowly untying the string and delicately moving the paper back.

Everyone else was preoccupied with giggling excitedly at the new blouse laying inside the box, but Graces was just staring down at the note. The note that had Shakespeare's Sonnet 18 written down on it.

It was her favorite. Of course, no one knew it was her favorite. She couldn't very well go around telling everyone that a Sonnet written by a muggle made her cry, but it was. Graces had just finished reading the sonnet, when she realized that there were a few notes written specifically to her at the bottom.

_You do not have a better temperament than summer._

Graces smiled at the words and it took all her effort not to look over to where Neville was sitting.

"Who is it from?"

Graces leaned back in her seat and looked over at Draco.

"It's not signed, I don't know."

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked at the piece of paper in Graces hand.

"It's a poem," Graces said, folding the paper and tucking it in her robes.

"Can I read it?"

"No," Graces whispered looking around. "What would he think if he saw me just passing around the note he wrote me? Honestly, Draco."

"Can I read it later tonight?"

Graces blushed and bit her lip, before shaking her head slowly.

"Is it inappropriate?" Draco scowled, looking around the Slytherin table.

"No! Nothing like that. Just—"

"Oh leave her be, Draco," Blaise cut in. "She wants to keep her letter private, let her. Poems are a private thing."

It was obvious Draco did not like Blaise's orders, and for a moment Graces wondered if he would demand to see it to show some higher authority, but luckily Draco seemed to decide there was some wisdom in his words and just rolled his eyes.

"We should head over to class, I want to set up early so I can review the notes before we start brewing."

"Just let me finish up my breakfast," Graces requested. "I'll meet you there."

Draco nodded and left the Great Hall. The other girls all had gone back to where they were sitting, leaving just Pansy and Blaise alone with Graces.

"So," Pansy prompted smiling, "what did it say?"

Graces blushed and looked away. "You know... just pretty things."

"Such as?" Blaise pushed.

"He-he started off comparing me to something pretty," _a summer's day_ "but then continued on to say that I was better than that thing. _" Except in temperament apparently. "_ And-and that my beauty would forever be eternal. That death and time could never take it away so long as men can breathe and see, I would eternally be remembered beautiful." It was silly, but Graces couldn't bring herself to look up and see her friends reactions. It all sounded so sappy out loud, and she felt silly that she was blushing so deeply, and that her stomach was filled to the brim with butterflies.

"Oh, Graces!" Pansy squealed excitedly. "He sounds absolutely smitten with you!"

"You think?" Graces asked, now glancing up at her friend.

"Of course, boys don't send that sort of thing unless they are!"

"Or unless they want to get in your knickers," Blaise cut in, eyeing Graces. "Don't be stupid enough to fall for beautifully strung together sentences, Gray. He said you were beautiful, any bloke alive can call you beautiful."

"Blaise!" Pansy scolded, smacking the dark skinned boy over the head. "Will you shut up!"

"I'm being honest. Don't start behaving like some silly girl over a bloke calling you pretty. Did he say he loved you?"

Graces shook her head. _Thank the gods he didn't._

"Did he ask you out properly? Or talk to Draco about courting you? Then that settles it."

"Blaise, you are such an ass sometimes," Pansy growled, putting a comforting arm over her friend. "Not everyone thinks courting should be so formal."

"Graces does though," Blaise pointed out. "She's extremely traditional. I just don't want her becoming some silly girl that falls for poems and ends up disappointed. Men tend to enjoy beautiful women, but that doesn't mean they want to invest anything long term in them."

"I'm not _that_ traditional," Graces argued, watching as Neville began to walk towards the doors to the Great Hall, Luna skipping along next to him.

"Nothing wrong with being traditional," Blaise commented, sending Pansy a glare so she didn't argue.

"But no one would be upset, Draco included, if you wanted to be more modern."

"Can you really speak for Draco?" Blaise asked.

"He did start letting Nott and her see each other alone towards the end of their relationship," Pansy reminded, clearly getting irritated with the Slytherin boy. "Graces, who do you think sent the package?"

"I—uh—I really don't know."

"Do you think it was the boy you were trying to—ouch!" Pansy rubbed her shin where Graces had kicked her and stared darkly at her friend.

"I have no clue," Graces insisted.

Blaise looked like he was about to pry further into Graces' personal life, but before he was able to ask any questions a hard knock on the table made all three Slytherins look up. Thomas was passing the table with a group of third years, and knocked on the wood to grab at Graces attention to wave a good morning before scurrying off to class.

"Higgs! Of course!" Pansy squealed.

"Wha- no, no, no, no. I'm sure it wasn—"

"Oh, come off it," Pansy giggled. "Everyone can tell he's mad for you! Not to mention we all saw the picture he left for you when you were in the hospital wing. It all makes sense. Not to mention he's totally the type that would write a poem to you. Quiet, mysterious, likes things like drawing, and—"

"Pansy, do shut up," Blaise groaned, not wanting to hear anymore.

"Don't tell me to shut up!"

"It's not Thomas," Graces hissed.

"You don't know who it is, darling. It could very well be Higgs," Pansy said, patting Graces hand. "Higgs would be fun for you. He's handsome, smart—"

"A child," Graces snapped, tearing her hands away. "He's a child."

"Please," Pansy scoffed. "He's only a few years younger than you."

Blaise sat looking at Graces for a few moments.

"He's not an heir," he said slowly. "Nothing could come of it. Your brother wouldn't allow you to marry a boy that is nowhere near the head of a family. Thomas Higgs is, what, like 30th in line? Maybe more. A lot of men would have to die to make him the head of house. Draco wants you with an heir, gives you a bit of power as the matriarch of the family. It's no wonder he didn't sign the card. He is probably just as aware that no one would allow it."

"Too bad," Blaise shrugged. "I rather like Higgs. Anyways, point is you don't have to worry about it. If breaking the poor sap's heart is your worry, he is probably aware he could never be with you. No need to get so worked up, Gray."

Graces groaned and gathered her things for class. She hurried along, not wanting to walk with her friends at the moment while they discussed Thomas' apparent love for her. She knew it wasn't Thomas. It had to be Neville. Only Neville would have placed a Shakespearean poem in the box for her.

"Good morning."

Graces looked to her side to see Neville had just joined her in walking to class.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "You can't walk to class with me."

"Just saying good morning, Malfoy, no need to get nasty."

"Get lost, Longbottom."

"Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry."

Graces halted in the middle of the hall.

"You, you—"

"I'll see you in class," Neville whispered, hurrying up the corridor. "Oh, and so you know, I am no gentleman."

Graces blushed at the joke and just watched Neville disappear into the Potions classroom.

_He read "The Taming of the Shrew"._

_It's not that big of a deal._

_It is. He apparently has read at least one sonnet, and now he's read—_

_It's just a silly book._

_A silly book he read for me..._

"Miss Malfoy, is there a reason you are not in my classroom?"

Graces turned to see Severus Snape striding towards the classroom, and quickly rushed in before the Potions professor.

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Neville had thought today was going to be his day. First he had sent Graces that package and watched her smile and blush all through breakfast, then he had been exceptionally suave in the hall with her. Life was pretty good this morning, until Potions started.

Of course it would be a difficult potion, and of course Snape would be looming over his shoulder the whole time. He had actually cut his finger while dicing some of the ingredients, he had been shaking so badly. Hermione was trying to be helpful during it all, but her constant fast-paced whispering just made his heart race with anxiety.

"Once again you have proven your incompetence, Mr. Longbottom," Snape continued slowly, a malicious glint in his eye as he evaluated the melted cauldron. "Surprising, because Miss Malfoy is a fine tutor, but you probably rarely pay attention to the girl. Like all Gryffindors you ignore the fine art of potion brewing, and just demand others with skill waste time on you."

Neville looked past Snape's middle to see Graces watching stone faced with the rest of the class. Draco, obviously pleased with Neville's humiliation, leaned down with a vicious smile and whispered something into her ear. It was silly how much it hurt him to see Graces smirk at the comment, but it did. He knew it was all a part of the rouse, but it still stung to see it.

"You can spend your lunch hour here, Longbottom. You could do well to skip a meal," he added, a small smile as the Slytherins all began laughing.

Neville couldn't even look up as the rest of the class made their way to leave after being dismissed. He could feel his humiliation burning against his neck and cheeks, and just wanted to be alone. Unfortunately, Hermione lingered beside him despite how slowly he was packing up.

"You were doing well until the end," Hermione comforted. Neville nodded, but continued to look down. "You really were," she continued to stress. "Don't let Snape get to you. He had no right saying anything about your app—"

"Hermione, thanks, but can we not talk about it?" Neville asked quietly.

The silence that settled around him was answer enough, and Neville continued to pack up, all the while writing the letter he was going to have to send to his gran in his head.

_Dear Gran,_

_I hope you are doing well, and that you got our neighbor to help you dig up that stump since you insist on not waiting for me to come home to handle it. I'm really sorry to have to trouble you, but could you send over another cauld—_

"Malfoy at 12 o'clock," Hermione muttered.

"What are we doing with Malfoy at 12 o'clock?" Neville asked confused, looking up for the first time and seeing Graces standing in front of him. At first he just stood there in shock. Graces was not one to just approach him during school. She usually sent owls to talk to him about meeting, and if she did approach him with an audience she was sure to behave "appropriately" towards him. But she was just standing there quietly waiting for him to notice her presence.

"Hi," he blurted out, realizing that Graces was seeming to be uncomfortable too with this new scenario.

Graces nodded and surveyed the table that was caked with crusted emerald green potion. Neville thought being humiliated in front of the class was going to the the worst thing that could possibly happen today, but the look of sincere disappointment on Graces' face topped that.

"Are you aware of what you did wrong?" she asked quietly, taking her wand and poking the melted edge of the cauldron. Neville shook his head in embarrassment, and waited for the blonde to continue.

"Do-do you want me to go through what I did?" Neville asked, unable to take the silence as Graces continued scanning the mess emotionlessly.

"No. It's obvious where you went wrong."

Neville wished that for one day he could be as smart as the rest of his class. He wasn't asking to be Graces or Hermione, just to do as well as maybe Dean or something. If he was able to get through a potion with it just being a wrong color, or having some imperfections, then he wouldn't be standing there feeling like the most simple man to ever walk the earth. Neville made himself swallow some of the emotions he was feeling, knowing that if he continued thinking of it all he would end up not only appearing stupid in front of Graces but crying as well.

He suddenly felt a gentle hand on his and looked to see Hermione still standing with him, glaring at Graces. Neville looked to see how Graces was taking Hermione's hostility, and saw the blonde look briefly at Hermione's hand over his and immediately Neville moved his hand away. Hermione looked over at him hurt for a brief moment, but quickly recovered herself.

"He's trying," she insisted. "And if you're so crestfallen over his progress than you should just have someone else tutor him!"

Graces looked at Hermione for a moment, as though she were bored already from her rant, and then turned back to Neville.

"Tonight, after eight. I have Quidditch practice, or I would meet earlier."

"Okay," Neville agreed, his earlier confidence gone. Graces didn't seem to care to stay a moment longer, nor did she bother to tell him what she wanted him to review before exiting the classroom, hurrying to her next class.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked.

Neville nodded his head, he knew he didn't look okay, that he had never been good at not wearing his emotion on his sleeve, but he hoped Hermione would just take his lie and not say anything.

"It's not that big of a deal," she comforted as they walked towards their next class, already late. "Do you want me to tutor you again? It doesn't seem like Malfoy is doing a good job, and—"

"She's doing a good job," Neville sighed. "I am just an idiot, a fat idiot."

"You're not an idiot, nor are you fat, Neville," Hermione snapped sharply. "You have been doing a lot to improve this year. You've been reading all kinds of books, spending hours being tutored with Malfoy, and you have lost a considerable amount of weight it seems. Yeah, you're still a smidge overweight, but you are not fat. Snape was being cruel. Remember what he said about my teeth after I got hexed? They were growing past my chin, and he said he couldn't tell the difference to how I looked before. Take what he says with a grain of salt."

Neville nodded and gave Hermione a small half smile. The rest of the walk to class passed in awkward silence. Neville preferred it over awkward conversation, but he could tell from the way Hermione was clutching her books to her chest that she didn't quite agree. Still, Neville refused to break it. He didn't want to hear a list of reasons why he shouldn't feel bad. He did feel bad, and he didn't want anyone telling him that he shouldn't feel what he was feeling. He was just humiliated in front of the girl he was interested in, and he saw nothing wrong with feeling that humiliation at the moment. He just hoped he would feel better come tonight.

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"I'll be late tonight, don't wait up."

"Graces, how long is it going to take you to brew a potion with Longbottom?" Draco asked exasperated. "You're going to be exhausted. We just finished practice, you should just go to bed."

"I'm not even tired. If anything I'm full of energy after flying." Graces lifted the rest of her bags over her shoulders, and kissed Draco's cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, good night."

"At least let me take your quidditch bag," Draco sighed. "No sense in you taking your practice gear with you to tutor Longbottom. You should just leave it in your locker."

"Then I can't get it if I want to go for a midnight ride," Graces winked, leaving down the corridor, and giggling as Draco shouted about how she was not to do any midnight riding this year alone.

Graces was practically running down the hall to see Neville. A few times she had to actually stop herself and take a moment before continuing. Malfoys did not rush off like this. They walked elegantly to their destination. And yet she wanted to rush. She felt like there was a bubble expanding in her chest, a bubble filled to the brim with something that made her want to giggle. She felt euphoric.

Earlier during potions she hadn't had this feeling. Neville botching that potion made her realize that she had neglected him in many ways. He had asked her for tutoring, and she had barely taught him anything. It was a wonder the scar on her palm hadn't opened up.

_But I'm going to start teaching him now,_ she vowed silently entering the abandoned classroom to see desk upon desk with melted cauldrons, while Neville stood over a fourth one obviously trying to make the potion correctly.

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Neville had done everything correctly. He was sure. He had gone through each step of the potion perfectly. He took time with everything he was cutting. He watched the time down to the second before entering anything in. He waved his wand correctly and yet cauldron after cauldron melted, creating the same mess from earlier that day.

"Do you know what the definition of insanity is," a gentle voice asked, while familiar arms wrapped around him. Neville frowned and waited for Graces to continue. "It is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result."

"I have done everything exactly as I was supposed to," Neville growled, not at all happy with how amused Graces sounded. "The color is perfect, and the smoke collection at the brim of the cauldron are all indications it was done correctly."

"Mmmm," Graces hummed, resting her head against his back. "Then there is only one conclusion to be made."

"Sorry, but it's not obvious to all of us what that is," Neville gritted bitterly, shrugging Graces off him.

Graces didn't seemed deterred in the least by Neville's mood. She merely sat on the desk where the potion was brewing and watched Neville add the last of the ingredients.

"You started without me," she commented, swinging her legs about. Neville nodded, and continued monitoring the potion. "Why?"

"I wanted to do it on my own."

"But you said you didn't know where you went wrong," Graces pointed out slowly.

"It doesn't make sense," Neville frowned. "I did it all perfectly, and it seems perfect until the last few minutes."

"Because you didn't do it perfectly," Graces shrugged, taking out a sugar quill and sucking on it.

Neville eyed her for a moment, before asking her to get off the desk.

"Why?" Graces asked, continuing in her antics.

"I don't want you getting hurt when the cauldron melts."

"It won't melt."

"You don't think so?" Neville asked, now obviously irritated.

"I know so, because you are going to place a temperature stabilizing spell for the last few minutes to ensure it stays at a low simmer."

Neville glared at the blonde.

"It has been simmering,"

"It hasn't been," Graces maintained, watching the potion. "Look, it's going to start sputtering here. If it does that it shows the temperature was not maintained at a low simmer, and thus was done incorrectly."

"What's the difference? It's still a simmer and-"

"The difference is everything," Graces continued patiently. "Think of when a child has a fever of 101 and it turns to a fever of 103."

"It's just two degrees."

"Those two degrees mean life and death," Graces argued, frowning over how Neville could not realize how important two degrees were. " A fever of 101 is killing off what is making the child sick, 103 is killing the child. Merlin, Longbottom, I hope your future wife knows these things or the Longbottom line is doomed."

"It's already doomed," Neville whispered lowly, turning back and looking at all the ruined cauldrons. He had worked non-stop, even through dinner, and he had not been able to catch his mistake. Potion after potion ruined. He needed someone to come in and say what he did wrong, he was too dense to figure it out on his own. What was he supposed to do when the questions were regarding his family? How was he supposed to guide them with no guidance. He wasn't a leader. He should never have been made patriarch. And as for continuing his line, what woman would want him?

Neville felt Graces take his hand and slowly pull him towards her. He didn't really want to get close to her at the moment, but he shuffled forward until he was standing before her as she sat on the desk. It was odd how a simple touch could make him feel at ease, but when Graces wrapped her arms around his neck he let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry," he began. "I'm frustrated and taking it out on you."

Graces didn't seem interested in his apology though. She just continued to gently play with the hair near his neck, her fingers teasing his skin with gentle touch before pulling him down to her and kissing him.

"You did well," Graces whispered kindly. " One mistake isn't bad. Before you would have made many more. You are improving. Potions is a skill that requires precision. Yet, despite my neglectful tutoring, you _are_ improving." Neville just nodded silently at Graces' words. It didn't feel like he was improving. It felt like things were much the same. He botched a potion and Snape belittled him. All the same.

"I am going to be a better tutor," Graces promised, kissing him again and lingering near Neville's lips. "You deserve better. If I had been tutoring you regularly you would have known."

"I don't really mind the way we spend our time," Neville smiled, sliding Graces near him.

"Would you like a lesson in temperature, Mr. Longbottom?" Graces asked seductively.

Neville, having an idea of what Graces was hinting at, just nodded, moving closer to her as her hands ran up and down his chest over his shirt.

"Wonderful," Graces smiled, and before Neville could protest, the blonde hopped off the table and ran to her bag. She took out bars upon bars of chocolate and three different cauldrons.

"You mean we are actually having a lesson?" Neville groaned, his trousers still tight around him.

"I said I was going to be a better tutor," Graces reminded, excitedly unwrapping each bar and distributing them evenly between the three cauldrons. "Come on, Longbottom, there is chocolate involved. It will be fun."

With a loud groan, Neville took a seat next to Graces on the ground.

"Should I clean off a table?" he asked.

"The ground is fine, let the elves take care of the other mess."

Neville smiled at Graces' logic and wondered what it would be like for Graces and Hermione to have a discussion on house elves.

"We are going to temper chocolate at three different temperatures," Graces said excitedly. "The first is going to be the correct temperature, but we will leave the chocolate in just a little longer than we should. The second we shall do everything correctly. And the third it will be just barely too hot."

Neville nodded and followed the instructions Graces gave him on the temperature to keep the chocolate at. Graces spelled the bars to break apart and after that they sat waiting as the milk chocolate melted into pools of liquid.

"I never thanked you for the gift," Graces said quietly, watching the experiment. "It's lovely. You didn't have to do that though."

"I wanted to."

"It's a little extravagant, isn't it? I mean, the Longbottom clan doesn't usually spend money like that, and well, you are not nearly as well off as other pureblood families."

Neville raised an eyebrow at Graces' statement and turned back to the cauldrons.

"I'm by no means poor, Graces."

"I didn't mean that," Graces blushed. "It's just that—well—that shirt was more expensive than the one ruined and—"

"It was a gift, that really isn't your concern," Neville pointed out, smiling at how worried Graces seemed over it.

"I know. It's just that, I feel odd knowing that you spent that kind of gold on me, and—"

"It was my gold to spend," Neville pointed out.

"Your family needs to rebuild. Money may be the guarantee you need for those alliances. You may have to agree to donate to organizations, fund families that you are wishing to join with or start up that business that I suggested. You would need to buy out the other companies to form a monopoly. Not to mention you would need to build greenhouses and possibly gain more land. You will need that money. You don't have money like the rest of the other purebloods, and—"

"Graces," Neville said patiently. "I am very aware of my family's financial situation, but I am going to insist you not worry about it. It is my concern, and to be honest it's a bit uncomfortable for me to be discussing with you."

Graces nodded, and fell silent.

"Madame Blanc is my godmother, did you know that?"

"What?"

"She was my mum's best friend," Neville nodded. "She made her wedding dress."

"You don't dress like Madame Blanc is your godmother," Graces frowned, looking at Neville's striped sweater.

"Now, now, Graces, don't get mean," Neville chuckled. "She sends me things, but I just prefer my clothes over them. I do wear them when she visits, but she doesn't visit often. She isn't a very involved godmother. I can't blame her really, owning a corporation and all." Neville decided not to add that also she probably didn't want to be reminded constantly of where her best friend was now.

"She hates Malfoys," Graces frowned. "She refuses to make anything custom for my mother and I. Though I suppose it makes sense now why, considering who we are related to. How did you get her to send this?"

Neville chuckled. "I didn't tell her. I ordered it and had it shipped to me, then when you didn't show in the greenhouse, I sent it to you through a school owl. Of course someone told her that I ordered it, and now she is insisting I take the money back and wanting to know who it was for."

"What did you tell her?"

"The truth, my friend Hannah ruined your shirt and I decided to replace it."

"You could be a Slytherin, Longbottom."

"I prefer to be in the house that wins Quidditch games, thankyouverymuch," Neville winked.

"Who's being mean now?" Graces cried, pushing Neville over and laughing.

"Just saying, we beat you snakes every year."

"Not this year," Graces smirked. "No way we are letting you all get to us this year."

"Get to you? What on earth are you talking about?" Neville asked laughing. "You're the ones that play dirty."

"We don't play dirty," Graces argued. "We play as expected. Slytherins have a tendency to bend and occasionally break rules as we see convenient. Hooch is the one that is supposed to be keeping things like that in check. It's not our fault that she isn't good at her job."

"Unbelievable," Neville scoffed. "You're twisted. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Please," Graces snorted, rolling her eyes. "This whole school is twisted. Slytherins just are obvious about our twisted tendencies. We don't do it backhandedly." Graces frowned for a moment. "Well, not usually unless it's for revenge or something."

"How is the whole school twisted?"

"On game day every house is going to dress in Gryffindor colors. Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff are going to rally behind your house and scream their support to you. Do you have any idea what it's like to walk on the field and be drowned in a sea of the opposing teams color. Our house is already the smallest."

"I never thought about it like that," Neville frowned, thinking of Luna's lion head and how she once commented that she was going to have it eat a snake, but didn't have the time to make/spell it. It was just so common for the other houses to side with one another when their teams were playing against Slytherin. He even had a Ravenclaw scarf for the occasion.

"No need to look so guilty," Graces laughed. "We've learned to just feed on it through the years. We let it fuel us for the game. Also, it makes us feel justified when we play dirty. You all mess with us psychologically so we mess with you all. Fair is fair."

"Do-do you all feel excluded?"

"Mmm what do you mean?" Graces asked, leaning over the cauldron and stirring.

"You know," Neville shrugged. "Excluded."

Graces looked up at Neville thoughtfully for a moment, before going back to the cauldron, smiling.

"You need to learn to be more articulate, Mr. Longbottom," Graces teased, now pulling the cauldron off the heat.

"You need to learn how to not evade questions that make you uncomfortable."

"I cannot say if the Slytherin house feels excluded. I am only one person in the house, therefore I shouldn't speak for the house as a whole."

"Is political sidestepping taught in your house? No wonder you all have so many politicians."

Neville grinned as Graces stuck her tongue out at him and wished they could behave like this all the time.

"The chocolate is all ready!" Graces sang, clapping her hands excitedly.

"You really have an insane sweet tooth," Neville commented, watching Graces scoop a generous portion on her finger.

"I don't understand people that don't have sweet tooths," Graces said offhandedly. "I mean, who doesn't like things because they are too sweet. It's like saying you don't like something that is too good."

"Some people do not think sweet equates to good."

"They must have been confunded as a child," Graces surmised, sucking the chocolate off her finger. "You're staring, Mr. Longbottom," Graces teased, taking her time as she finished her treat.

"You're doing that on purpose," Neville blushed.

"Well, now I am," Graces giggled. "Here, try that cauldron right there."

Neville nodded and tried the chocolate to the far right.

"That's awful," he gagged, spelling some water from his wand to drink and groaning as it splashed on him.

Graces seemed to be enjoying the scene, and Neville wondered if she was a bit of a sadist as she excitedly made him try the next batch which was equally as awful.

"Now, try this one," Graces instructed, moving so that she was now straddling Neville on the stone floor. Neville could feel a familiar heat beginning to spread in his belly as Graces dipped her finger into the chocolate and brought it to his lips. Hesitantly he tried the chocolate, not because he was worried about the taste, but because he didn't want to appear over zealous. "How does it taste?"

"Good," Neville breathed, his head beginning cloud.

"Temperature matters," Graces whispered, the tip of her tongue teasing his outer ear. "The other cauldrons were only off by a few degrees. The first one off the degrees from the start, and the second one left at the correct temperature for too long causing some to burn. Do you understand now, Mr Longbottom? Or should I give you another lesson?" Graces asked seductively.

"Only if it doesn't involve you moving away," Neville mumbled, his voice husky with need.

"Simmering," Graces murmured, kissing Neville longingly. "Sputtering," she continued, running her tongue along his lower lip until he granted her entrance. "Boiling," she concluded, bringing her hand down inside his trousers and stroking his throbbing length.

Neville closed his eyes at the touch. He knew Graces was watching him, that she seemed to be very interested in his reaction to her, and he tried to maintain himself but the more she touched and explored the more erratic his breathing became.

"I want you," Graces breathed against his ear, her hand never ceasing the movements that were currently undoing him and moving to unbutton his trousers.

And it was somewhere in between Graces' giggles over the difficulty he was having with taking off her sports bra and her outright laughter when he he grew frustrated with her quidditch pants when he realized Graces had not once tonight hidden herself from him.


	29. Chapter 29

Neville laid beside Graces on the stone floor of the castle, still panting from their previous activities. Every night since the chocolate experiment had been like this. They would meet, do some work with potions, talk a bit, then talk a lot, joke around playfully, kiss, kiss more, kiss more while discarding their clothes, topple to the ground, spend a good part of an hour there, and then lie next to each other silently not talking or touching. Each night would end around this point. It was odd to the Gryffindor how for a good part of an hour he and Graces would spend their time holding, caressing, kissing, and being with one another in the most intimate of ways to ending like this, awkwardly lying next to one another while one of them tried to pretend the other didn't exist.

He wanted to reach out and touch her, to hold her in his arms and nuzzle his nose into her golden locks, breathing in her scent as he fell away into sleep. He could only imagine how comforting that would all be, how wondrous it would feel to drift away to sleep with Graces in his arms, but every time he had attempted at holding her she had made an excuse to leave.

So he just laid there next to her, his skin burning to feels hers again. He felt like there was a little man living in his heart, raging against the walls for him to reach out and take her hand, just make some small gesture to touch her again, but he ignored the feeling and laid there. Just two days ago he had attempted to do such a simple act like holding her hand. At first Graces had allowed it. She had laid there as he laced his fingers through hers, and didn't argue when he brought their hands up and laid them on his chest. But Neville knew from the moment he had touched her, he only had borrowed time.

After a few measly moments of this Graces had sat up and unwound her fingers from his. She made the usual excuses for why she needed to go: Draco would worry, she needed to get some rest, excuses, excuses. She was kind about it. She had stopped closing off completely and would always end the discussion with a soft kiss on his cheek and a good night. Neville knew it was meant to spare his feelings, that Graces in her own twisted way was trying to be kind, but her abrupt absence always left him feeling empty. Graces had made it clear that this could never bloom into something more than what it was now, but Neville couldn't stop himself from wanting more.

It was greedy of him to want more, especially since he had gained so much with the Slytherin in the past few days. Every night since the chocolate experiment they had been together. Graces had made good on her vow that she would be a better tutor. Each night after dinner she met him and they did another potion or experiment that would help him improve, but it wasn't her time that Graces had gifted him with so much, though she was giving him hours of her time, it was the conversations.

Graces was finally at a point where she would talk to him. They talked for hours upon hours about potions, Quidditch, herbology, and Shakespeare. Neville knew without a doubt that if he had been discussing these topics with anyone else he would have grown bored. He certainly didn't fancy talking about potions for two and a half hours with Hermione when they studied together, but with Graces all those things were different.

Potions was interesting. Quidditch strategies were intriguing. Herbology wasn't just a personal passion of his, but something he could share and even build a future on. And Shakespeare, Neville had never thought that words on a page could be like a treasured jewel. Shakespeare the way Graces talked about it, the way they discussed it, was like drinking a fine wine and picking out all the small details of the taste: the year, the notes of fruit, describing the harmony of the mix, and they always seemed to get a little drunk off the discussion and laughed for hours upon hours together. They had discussed Shakespeare's "The Taming of the Shrew' the other night until small rays of light seeped in through the castle window, alerting the two of them that the morning had arrived. And yet, despite how amazing the conversations between the two were, Graces would stray away from any kind of discussion that was in any way personal. It was as though she knew that those kinds of discussions would feed the friendship so that it could bloom into something greater, and she was refusing to allow it such nutrients.

From the corner of his eye Neville could already see Graces becoming restless with just laying there. He could always tell when she was coming down from the euphoria of being with him, and obsessing on the reality of it all. One of the sure signs was that she would bring her arms across her chest, to cover herself, and lay eerily still. As if laying like a statue would mask her uneasiness.

"What's your favorite color?"

Graces looked at Neville briefly before turning her eyes back to the ceiling, obviously slightly disturbed by the question.

"Why?"

"It's a simple question, Graces," Neville chuckled, hoping that she would answer. "I'm just curious."

"Purple," Graces said quietly, forcing herself to stay put.

They laid there in silence for a few moments, Graces chewing her lip and Neville trying to hold on a little longer to having her so near.

"Do you want to know my favorite color?" he asked, grabbing at anything to say.

"It's green."

Neville turned on his side and stared at the girl beside him. That was no guess. Graces _knew_ it was his favorite color. It was overt in the way she declared it: casually, confidently, with a tone of finality. But Neville didn't know _how_ she knew.

"How did you know that?"

"I, uh, heard Granger and Abbott talking a while ago... it was mentioned," Graces admitted, blushing up at the ceiling.

"And you remembered?"

The blonde merely nodded, her cheeks growing more and more red, allowing Neville to make assumptions about what it meant.

"I—I need to go," she stammered, sitting up and grabbing for her clothes. Neville bit back a sigh and nodded, leaning back to stare at the ceiling, not particularly interested in watching the girl of his dreams leave him for the night. "First match tomorrow and all," Graces explained. Neville nodded at the excuse. There was always one. "I just need to be well rested for it."

_And here comes the soft kiss goodnight... The soft kiss that despite myself I will still relish in. Merlin I'm pathetic._

"I had a good time tonight," she whispered, pulling away, but not far enough so Neville couldn't feel her lips still tickling against his cheek.

"Me too," Neville sighed, giving Graces a small half smile. "I always do."

"You don't look like you did," Graces pouted, standing up and pulling on her shirt.

Neville sighed, and stood up to dress as well.

"Just wish you didn't have to go," he shrugged, buckling his belt.

"Sorry."

Neville dismissed the apology, and leaned against a desk and watched Graces dress.

"I'll be rooting for you tomorrow."

"Sure you will," Graces scoffed, sending Neville a playful smile.

"I will," Neville insisted. "I'll be cheering you on in the stands."

"Okay," Graces humored rolling her eyes. "Good night, Longbottom."

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Neville did not want to get out of bed. In fact he was at the moment very convinced that he could stay underneath his covers for the rest of his life. Vainly he tried to open his eyes only to have them drift shut almost immediately. He was just starting to have a very good dream, a dream involving Graces joining him in his very comfortable bed, when it suddenly dawned on him what day it was.

Today was the Quidditch match for Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Neville, aftering having a wonderful week with Graces, had a surprise in store for her.

Neville laid in bed and once again told himself that this was a good idea. That Graces would appreciate it and that his friends would get over it. He had a plan. He worked out every detail, so that it wouldn't give Graces and his relationship away, and he reminded himself that he was not going to be any more embarrassed than he was every other day at school anyways.

Still... he was nervous.

_I can do this,_ he reminded himself again.

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Graces nervously stood with her friends and brother outside the Great Hall. It had been an odd morning to say the least. She had been woken by a loud crack and sat up to discover a house elf standing on her bed, a note clutched in it's knobby hands.

Graces had been thinking of the note nonstop for hours. She had absolutely no idea what to make of it. It just said " _Play it off as a bet. A bet that I, of course, lost and you won."_

"What the bloody hell?"

Graces turned at her brothers' statement and stared wide-eyed as Neville walked down the hall a Slytherin Quidditch shirt and scarf laying underneath his coat. He had an annoyed look on his face as Ron continued to hiss something furiously in his ears. Harry seemed to be trying to pull the red head away from him, so that Neville could have some assemblance of space, but the taller boy just shrugged him off and continued.

"Why is Longbottom wearing Slytherin colors!" Pansy exclaimed, as though Neville wearing their colors somehow tarnished Slytherin as a whole.

"He lost a bet," Graces breathed, still unable to believe what she was seeing.

"A bet?" Draco frowned.

"Yeah," Graces nodded, unable to stop herself from smiling.

"You're really low, Malfoy!" Ron bellowed from down the hall, clearly upset over his friend's attire.

"No one forced Longbottom to bet me," Graces clipped, still not moving her eyes from Neville.

"You made a bet with Longbottom?" Draco frowned looking at his sister.

"It's so boring tutoring him," Graces pouted. "I needed something to make things interesting."

"What was the bet?" Pansy asked, still wrinkling her nose at Neville.

"Ummm, it, it was—"

"She bet me I couldn't make a simple cough potion without messing it up," Neville sighed, blushing as everyone's eyes widened at him.

"A cough potion?" Draco laughed. "A cough portion?! My gods, Longbottom, how thick are you? That is what's put in children's play potion kit."

All the Slytherins were in a fit over what they thought was Neville's mistake, but Graces just continued to smile happily knowing the truth. Neville dressed like this to support her team. To support her.

_A bit mushy isn't it? A little over the line?_

_No, it's not. He's my friend. We are friends, and friends support one another. Just like Luna wears that lion head. It's not odd in the least._

_Don't be an idiot, he's mad for you and you know it._

_So what if he is? I like the attention. I don't mind boys being mad for me. It's nice being told how pretty I am and other such things._

...

_This is fine._

_Keep telling yourself that. I know you, I am you, you fancy him. You like him and you—_

_Yeah, you know who else I've fancied? Lockhart for a bit. Remember that? So shove off, I'm allowed to fancy people. It doesn't mean anything._

"Neville," Hermione whispered, "how did you mess up a cough potion?"

"I don't know," Neville groaned flustered, shaking his head and looking down. "I did though."

Graces was impressed by the show Neville was putting on, she had no idea he could be this good of an actor. Lying wasn't exactly his strongest suit, but then again it must have helped that he became so flustered regularly that it wasn't considered odd when he became so now.

"You know you shouldn't be rooting for him to lose," Hermione scolded looking at Graces. "You're his tutor, you're supposed to want him to do well."

"Mione," Neville hissed. "It's fine. It was all in good fun. Besides if I would have won she would be in Gryffindor colors."

"That would have been a very foolish bet on your part if you lost," Draco muttered under his breath.

"I knew I wouldn't," Graces whispered back smugly.

"Where's Creevey?" Graces asked excitedly looking around. "I want a picture of this."

"Wanting a photo of me, Malfoy?"

"You wish, Longbottom," Graces sneered, though Neville alone could see the humor still twinkling in her eyes.

"Hey, you're the one asking where Creevey is."

"Only to document your humiliation!" Graces exclaimed, unable to stop the laughter from bubbling up from her.

"Humiliation? Who said I was humiliated. I like the color green. I think I look rather dashing in it."

"Stop talking! You're ruining this for me. Go back to being pathetically sad about the ordeal!" Graces demanded playfully, now bending over with laughter.

It was as Graces and Neville were laughing at their odd banter that Graces realized she had lost herself in front of the audience. This wasn't appropriate behavior, and it was obvious from the stunned look around her that she and Neville were behaving too friendly.

Graces cleared her throat awkwardly, and gained back her stonewall demeanor. She chanced an apologetic look over to Draco, who just raised an eyebrow in response.

"You really are a good sport, Longbottom," Graces nodded sadly, looking around at the Gryffindors surrounding him, her eyes stopping at Hermione. "It's just such a shame at what company you choose to keep."

Neville frowned, and looked over to where Graces eyes were glaring and placed an arm around his friend. Graces sneered at the gesture, before returning her silver iris back to Neville.

"Things could be so different for you, Longbottom," she continued slowly. "So different. You're a pureblood. You could have easily chosen to stay with your own kind. Imagine how much easier your life could be."

"I am among my own kind," Neville proclaimed defiantly.

Graces stared at Neville for a few moments, making sure to muster up as much contempt as possible in a single look.

"You have options, I would advise you to think about them," Graces warned. "Because the road you are choosing now is the road that will deliver you into an early grave." Neville swallowed hard at Graces' words and definitely pulled Hermione closer to him. Making his choice obvious. "Such a pity," Graces whispered, "and down falls another pureblood line."

"Will you cry at my funeral, Malfoy?"

Graces took a few steps closer to Neville, so she was well into his personal space. Hermione remained close to them both, which was fine to Graces considering she wanted the audience.

"I doubt it," Graces whispered, taking Neville's Slytherin scarf and fiddling with the edges casually. "Who knows, I may very well be the cause of it."

"I have no doubt, Malfoy, that you'll be the death of me," Neville declared, staring down at her.

Graces smirked, and took a step back dropping the edge of the scarf before it pulled Neville.

"See you around, Longbottom," she dismissed, turning and joining her friends to enter the Great Hall for breakfast. Satisfied that her little show would make up for the moment before. "Oh, and Longbottom," Graces called, turning around, but continuing to take steps backwards "Don't forget. You have to cheer for me as well."

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"It's a big game, you have to eat," Draco reminded as Graces continued to push her food about on her plate.

"I'm not that hungry," Graces whispered.

"Darling, what's wrong?" Blaise questioned, placing a curved finger under her chin and lifting her head. "You seemed to be in such a great mood earlier. What happened?"

"We're dying off," Graces murmured, pushing her plate away.

"What do you mean 'we're dying off'?" Pansy frowned, not at all liking this twist in conversation.

"Longbottom is going to die."

Draco held his breath at his sister's statement. He looked around to see how Blaise and Pansy were taking her foolishness at the moment, and was thankful, that much like him they seemed to think Graces was getting at a grander point than just the absence of Longbottom from this world. After all it would be silly for her to mean that she is truly sad that Longbottom would die.

"That," Blaise stressed, sending Graces a dark look, "is not of your concern. I should hope you are not forming any attachment to the blood traitor, my sweet, because attachment like that..."

"It's nothing like that," Graces growled. "He's a pureblood. The last in his line, and he's going to be killed. That's another family down. Don't you see? We're dying off. All of us are dying off. Doesn't that bother you?"

"We are dying off," Draco admitted casually, placing his napkin back down onto the table and shifting to face his sister, "And it is something we are all aware and upset over, Graces. But Neville Longbottom is not a loss."

"His blood is as pure as yours and mine, Draco," Graces declared evenly, meeting her brother's eyes and daring him to deny it. "That's a whole line that other families can marry into, form alliances with, and build upon."

Draco's eyes narrowed at the challenge, and he sat taller so that even sitting he towered over his sister.

"When was the last time any of the Longbottoms attended an old pureblood ritual? Or participated in any of the older holidays? Does Longbottom know all the traditions and etiquette we were brought up with?" Graces eyes slipped from her brother's gaze, and Draco shook his head sadly. "Longbottom is not a pureblood. He is a blood traitor. He and his family have turned their back on their history, their legacy, their traditions and adopted muggle ones."

"Mark my words he will probably marry some half-blood or mudblood and his offspring will be raised with muggle stories, muggle holidays and muggle values. Longbottom's death means nothing to us, because his legacy died generations ago. He's no better than a is nothing for us to build upon there."

Graces frowned and looked down at the table. Draco sighed, remembering how often she did this at home. Their father and mother would say no to something, and she would look down at the table and scowl, every once in a while sniffing back a few tears, but biting her tongue to keep from talking back. The problem was that then he knew what she was biting her tongue to say, and now he hadn't a clue.

"What is the matter with you?" he hissed losing his temper. "You should know all this. Why are you—"

"Draco, will you relax," Baise cut in, saving Graces from her brother's temper. "She's making a valid point. It's upsetting to see older families die off like this."

Pansy nodded in agreement.

Draco watched as hot angry tears began plunging from his sister's cheeks.

"Graces?"

"He should be one of us," Graces sobbed angrily. "His loyalties should be to us. We're his blood, his history, his past and future. Our blood is sacred! We were part of the families that were originally chosen by the gods to bless with magic. It's not right. It's—"

"Blasphemous," Draco finished, watching his sister. "Depraved. Disgusting. Traitorous." Draco leaned forward now that he had his sister's attention. "Neville Longbottom helped put our father in jail. He is a blood traitor. When you start to feel sad that his blood line will soon be gone, remember that he has turned his back on all of us first. He chose Potter. He will continue to choose Potter and all those other blood traitors, half-bloods, and mudbloods over us until it is either us or him in the grave."

"You reminded him he had options today, and he threw it back in your face," Blaise said quietly, chancing a glance over to where Neville was sitting talking to Hermione.

"Judging by the way things are going, you weren't far off when you said that you may very well be the cause of his death. Don't feel badly about that. He chose it on his own."

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Tears. Angry tears. Neville didn't have a clue what had happened during breakfast, but he knew this much. Graces was frustrated and angrily crying over something, and judging by the glances Pansy kept shooting his way it was something over him.

"See you all at the match," Neville sighed, sincerely upset, though just not over his attire like everyone thought. He made sure not to rush out of the hall, afraid to draw too much attention, but he was determined to catch up with Graces who had left just moments before.

Empty. The hall to the left and the hall to the right were bare, with not even an echo of a step telling him where Graces may have run off too. Aimlessly Neville wandered away from the Great Hall, raking his mind for a clue as to where Graces would go to be alone.

The barn.

Neville strode out of the castle doing his best to avoid other students. It wasn't that he was embarrassed to be dressed in Slytherin colors for the game, it was just that he would rather not hear what people were saying about him losing a bet because he had botched a cough potion.

He reached the barn door only enduring two sympathetic glances from Hufflepuffs, three nasty glares from Slytherins, and two offers of tutoring from Ravenclaws, who he suspected were only offering because they wanted to see firsthand how someone was able to botch a child's potion.

For a moment Neville didn't know how to enter. He looked at the wooden door despondently. What if she wasn't in there? What if she was? What if she went off on him for some reason only she understood? He just wanted to make her happy. Radiantly happy. Radiantly happy because of something he did.

Slowly he opened opened the door, slipping into the musky smelling barn, his eyes gliding around until they fell on golden hair and porcelain skin.

"Graces?"

Graces jumped from where she was sitting on a barrel of hay. Neville knew he should look away as she wiped away some tears that were spilling from her eyes, but he couldn't. So he remained where he stood watching her wipe away her embarrassment, clumsily pull her hair away from her dampened skin and grit her teeth against her sobs.

"I just wanted to make you happy," Neville said defeated. "I—I wanted to wear your colors, and show you my support."

"Why?" Graces croaked.

Neville blanked on what to say. He had thought he just explained on why, but clearly Graces felt otherwise.

"B-because, well... because you're my friend."

"Am I?"

"I thought we settled this."

"Am I your friend like Harry is your friend?"

Neville frowned in confusion. "In what way?"

"I don't know," Graces moaned. "I don't know."

Neville heaved out a sigh and was about to start asking more questions, but it seemed that Graces didn't care for an answer to her question. To Neville's surprise she lunged forward and just held him. Her tiny arms braced around his middle as her cheek pressed against his chest, her hard head under his chin.

"You're being odd again," Neville murmured kissing the top of her head.

"I'm never odd." There was a soft silence that fell upon them, it was the kind of silence that came with the morning light before the birds began to sing of new days. "You have made me happy."

"And yet here you are crying in a barn."

"I—I just needed a good cry," Graces muttered.

"Why?"

"Just did."

Neville nodded, knowing better than to push a Malfoy for information they didn't want to give.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," Graces whispered. "I just needed—"

"Graces, I don't take anything you say in front of an audience seriously. Honestly, when you start talking like that I just tune it out."

"You tune out _everything_?"

"Mmm hmm," Neville hummed, pulling Graces' face up from his chest and brushing his lips against hers. Closing his eyes to relish in the feel of her breath wasping against his, he moved in and kissed her again and again and again, a familiar heat spreading through him as he pressed closer to her, taking every kiss with more fire and passion than Graces would allow.

"I have a game," Graces protested, as Neville lifted her up onto an old table and began pulling down her game pants.

"You have to warm up don't you? Plus, it's well over an hour before the match,"Neville pointed out leaning down and running his lips against Graces' inner thighs while his hands toyed with her bare hip. "Now the question is, Miss Malfoy, would you like to warm up with me or on a bloody broom in the cold October air?"

"You clearly have never enjoyed riding a broom," Graces breathed, her words catching as Neville nibbled upward.

"Can't say I have," Neville shrugged, moving his endeavours higher so that Graces was now gripping the edge of the table. "No more crying today," Neville stipulated, continuing on with the task at hand.

There was something so satisfying in hearing Graces' breath become more and more uneven, feeling her legs quiver around him as her fingers molded into his hair. Multiple times he had to stop himself from fulfilling his own desires and taking her on the desk.

Neville wondered if he would ever grow tired of this. Ron certainly was growing tired of snogging Lavender, and Ginny seemed to grow tired of her boyfriends, but every time he touched Graces it felt like euphoria was coursing through him. It ignited every nerve ending with a fire that spread to consume him. His pulse quickened, his head floated and every fiber ached for more. Graces was gasoline to a fire that he wanted to consume him.

And she did consume him. As Neville moved up onto the table, authoritatively moving Graces legs apart and covering her body with his, he thought about how much she consumed him. How his every thought was consumed by her, his every desire centered around her, his joy derived from the simple smiles she offered him and how much he absolutely adored and lov—loved her.

"Hey, everything okay?" Graces asked, looking up from underneath him.

"Yeah. Yeah, everything is great." Neville knew that he was trembling, that he was more frightened now than he had ever been in his entire life, that he was currently staring and probably making Graces feel incredibly awkward, but he couldn't seem to move. He loved her. He loved her and he didn't even know when it had happened. But it happened. He loved her. He looked down at Graces who was lying underneath him an image of perfection, and yet he knew she wasn't. She was flawed. More flawed than anyone else he knew and he loved her.

He loved her laugh, the way she ate chocolate when she was stressed, how her eyes lit up when she learned something new, how she approached plants cautiously, how she loved muggle books, the way she hummed when brewing a potion, how she was looking up at him now with so much concern. It was rare he saw someone look at him as though they knew him, but Graces was able to. It was like she saw him, despite trying to pretend she didn't. In moments like this he knew she did. He lifted his hand and cupped her face in his palm, in awe of how much affection bubbled in his chest over her, in awe of the realization that he would do anything for her. He leaned in gently and kissed her, moving inside her again and lowering his lips to her neck as he began moving with more passion.

"Everything is great," he repeated with real meaning.

He wanted to tell her he loved her. He wanted to whisper in her ears how much he loved her as he moved his hips forward with hers. He longed to murmur against her collarbone as he nibbled at the base all of his affections for her, but he didn't say a word of it. He even held himself back from showing her physically. He was certain that if he began actually making love to Graces in an intimate manner, the blonde would run off well before either of them were finished.

_She can be such a prat at times._

_But you love her._

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Everything felt wonderful. No, better than wonderful, glorious. This was exactly what she needed after her conversation with Draco. She needed Neville holding her, kissing her, and giving her the comfort that only he could give her. She didn't really know how strong Neville's loyalties to her were, but in moments like these she could pretend. She could pretend that she was the one that held all of them. She didn't dare ask who he would choose. She had almost asked earlier, and realized it was a mistake. Asking Neville if she was higher on his list than Potter would have been a mistake. Sometimes knowledge only brings pain. It rips away the small comforts we cling to, and gives way to only harsh reality.

And she didn't want that. She had harsh reality with everyone else in her life: Draco, her father, her aunt, everyone. But with Neville she could pretend. She could close her eyes and lose all reality as Neville persisted in his quest of discovery, and she could pretend that she was the only world he cared to explore. That she and she alone was his ultimate priority. Not even Harry Potter himself could take him away from her.

She was not stupid enough to think this all the time, but in the moments she spent with him like this she could. For a brief time with him she could put away everything that should keep them apart and pretend.

So she pretended. She kissed him deeply and pretended they lived in a world where she would never have to worry about the repercussions of kissing him. She closed her eyes and lost herself in his touch, lost herself enough to forget that she was a pureblood and he was a blood traitor, allowing Neville's hands to take her far away from such things like blood status.

What did it matter anyways when only he could make her feel so good? All she wanted was to feel good, to chase that feeling and hold onto it long enough to keep her sanity. The problem was that gaining that feeling meant being with Neville, and the more and more she spent time with him the more she didn't want to let him go.

Graces shoved that thought away and pulled Neville closer to her. She could feel herself at her peak, tipping over the edge to fall down into elation. But she couldn't allow herself to go. She didn't want the aftermath of the fall, the ending where reality would come after the dust settled on the ground. She wanted to stay with Neville like this longer.

"I'm never going to get enough of you," Neville groaned, as Graces wound her legs around him drawing him in deeper and bringing him to the edge as well.

Graces didn't know if it was Neville's statement, his voice as he huskily moaned her name after, or a combination of all that pushed her of the edge. But she couldn't truly care to think about it as she toppled down into her ocean of bliss, pulling Neville alongside her as she cascaded down.

Graces laid there panting for a few moments, and for once didn't protest when Neville rolled off her and pulled her into him to be held. She allowed herself a few moments to enjoy this, being held by him, comforted by the warmth of his skin on hers. She wanted to continue enjoying this, but no sooner had Neville gently kissed the top of her head did the guilt begin to flood inside her. She buried herself more into him, as though Neville could protect her from the thing raging within, but it was all for naught.

"I should get ready for my game," she smiled playfully, putting on a show so as not to hurt Neville's feelings. It wasn't his fault she felt so wrong about all this. He was more than wonderful through it all. She just couldn't bear laying there with him after. It felt wrong. What she was doing was so wrong. If her family knew...

"Of course," Neville smirked, throwing her gear over to her and getting up himself. "Trust me, I didn't forget."

Graces nodded and began dressing, but she felt odd about the way Neville was looking at her and the way he was dressed. It was hard seeing him in Slytherin green. It was like a reminder of who he could have been. _UGH! He needs to stop glancing at me like that!_

"What?"

"What?"

"Stop looking at me like that. It's giving me the skeevies."

Neville raised an eyebrow and finished pulling on his Slytherin shirt.

"The skeevies?"

"You know," Graces blushed. "That feeling you get when the hair on the back of your neck stands on end and a chill goes down your spine."

"You're being odd again," Neville smiled, his brown eyes fixated on her in a way that made her hold her breath. "But I shall try not to not give you the skeevies."

"Thanks..."

"Why don't you say my name?"

"Not this again," Graces sighed in exasperation.

"You have yet to answer the question."

"It doesn't need to be answered."

"Still, I want an answer and I don't intend to stop asking until I get one."

"I thought you wanted to make me happy today?"

Neville narrowed his eyes for a moment before smiling up at the ceiling and shaking his head.

"Once again you have bested me. Fine, fine. I'll leave it alone for another day."

Graces smiled and closed the distance between the two of them and offered Neville a gentle kiss.

"For my silence?"

"No," Grace giggled. "I just love winning."

Neville let out an exuberant laugh at Graces' candor and pulled her up off her feet in a grand embrace to kiss her properly.

"Then I hope you win today."

Graces nodded awkwardly, and made excuses to leave right away. She was relieved that Neville just smiled and placed her down. She hurried to the barn door and was about to run off to the pitch when something made her turn around.

"Blaise is going to throw a party for our house today. Regardless of if we win or lose," she added quickly, though she hoped they didn't lose. "He seems to think we are all in need of high morale or whatever."

"How nice of him," Neville acknowledged, clearly unsure of where Graces was going with all of this.

"I, umm—I was planning on wearing that blouse you gave me," Graces blushed, now feeling as though her whole body was vibrating. "And... well, I thought that maybe you would want to see me in it..."

Neville seemed genuinely shocked at Graces' statement and just stood there with both eyebrows raised looking at her.

"I would," he nodded, a stunned look still plastered on his face. "Very much so, actually."

"The party is going to be in the woods, so I was thinking we could meet in the abandoned classroom and you could see me in it before I left." Neville slowly nodded, waiting for Graces to give more details on when. "It takes me a while to get dressed, but I should be ready about an hour and a half after I leave the field."

"So an hour and a half after the game, got it."

Graces rolled her eyes. "No after I leave the field. My mother is coming to the game, along with other team members family. We all usually visit for a bit."

"Oh."

"You never noticed?" Graces asked with a smugly raised eyebrow.

"Usually we're all celebrating too hard or rushing to the hospital wing cause Harry fell off his broom, got banned from Quidditch, or other things like that... I don't think many Gryffindor families go."

"Well, we can't have muggles running about the castle can we?" Graces scoffed.

"Not all Gryffindors are muggleborn, Graces," Neville reminded patiently.

"Anyways," Graces continued, pretending to ignore Neville's words, "does that work for you?"

"Yeah, it works for me," Neville agreed, watching her _in that way_ again.

"Great," Graces rasped, reddening at the sound of her voice and clearing her throat. "I'll see you after."

Graces shut the door and began sprinting to the Quidditch pitch. She was going to be late for warmups. Draco was going to yell at her, Thomas was going to give her a stern look, and the Captain was going to probably make her run laps, but as she neared the pitch and saw the first few glares from her teammates she couldn't help but grin.


	30. Chapter 30

"Malfoy! You're late!"

"I'm also adorable. Any other obvious things you wanted to point out, Graham?"

"You're not being cute right now, Graces," Montague growled.

"I'm always cute," Graces shrugged, smiling up at the red faced captain sweetly as she reached out for her broom that Draco was holding. "Don't be upset with me, Graham" she pouted, leaning her cheek onto her broom handle.

"No way that's working on me, Malfoy. Laps."

"Awww come on, Montague," Graces whined. "Now? Right before the game?"

"You know the rules, Gray. Laps."

"Come on, Graham, she was only a few minutes late," Vaisey chipped in. "She's never late. You're going to get her all tired before the match, Graham."

Graces nodded her head enthusiastically, not at all liking the idea of running laps in front of the school and Gryffindor team as they piled in for the game.

"Those are the rules!" Graham stressed, looking around at his teammates.

"It's a rule that could cost us the game if she's exhausted after," Harper pointed out. "We're already down one of our strongest players because of injury. The last thing you want to do is hinder us further."

"Fine!" Graham growled, throwing his hands up. "Fine, but you are running laps after the game, Malfoy."

"After?!" It was now Draco's turn to chime into the debate. "Our mum is coming for the game. You can't have her run laps after."

"UGH! Fine, after you visit with your mum than."

"Thank you, Graham," Graces chided, mounting her broom and grinning ear to ear.

"I see you're in a better mood," Draco muttered lowly, kicking off the ground with beside her and following her to the post.

"I feel better, I just needed a rest. I think lack of sleep just had me overly emotional."

"I told you not to tutor Longbottom so late last night." Graces hovered in front of the post, and looked down under her broom handle at the top of her brother's head. "I think you are spending too much time with him."

"I'm tutoring him, and in case you have not noticed that isn't the easiest task."

"Still..."

"Still what?" Graces asked, now worried about what her brother could be insinuating.

Draco looked up, a storm of color brewing in his gray eyes.

"You have a kind heart. You always have. I just don't want you getting attached to Longbottom."

"I'm not getting attached to Longbottom!" Graces exclaimed. "I'll do what I have to do when the time comes. No hesitation."

"You are not taking the Dark Mark, Graces."

"Yes, I am. I told you—"

"No! I told you. I am the head of this family, and I told you that you were not allowed to even think of taking that mark."

"I am not going to have you stand alone in this."

"I am not standing! I am on my hands and knees like a dog. I am a dog! A mindless animal that does the bidding of its owner. I will not have the same fate land on you. I will not have you branded by a madman. You will not take that mark. I will not have it, Graces. If you so much as breathe a word of it again I am sending you away."

"Draco! That's not—"

"This discussion is over. I am the head of this family and I have said no."

Graces felt like every second passing her and her brother was an eternity. Draco stared at her wildly with flared nostrils, breathing deeply in the chill air. He was serious. He would send her away, and judging by the way he was trembling he would send her across the world just to prove a point. It was hard to tell at this point if it was anger or fear that would make the final decision.

"Father would never have sent me away," she rasped out over the growing lump in her throat.

"Well he isn't here now, is he?" Draco pointed out slowly, choosing his words in a way that would cut. "I am, and I will send you away."

"I thought you needed me," Graces hiccuped, glad the rest of the team was occupied.

Draco for the first time looked away allowing his mask of indifference to shatter.

"I do," he admitted softly, relinquishing Graces broom handle. "I need you to be my sister, my escape from reality. I need you to eat meals with me. Study with me. Sit beside me in an armchair at the end of the day looking for merpeople. I need you to bitch and rage about me skipping Quidditch games. I need you to keep me sane and make me feel like the world is still turning. I don't need you fighting, though, Graces. I need you to be my sister and let me take care of you in a different way than you are taking care of me."

It was understandable. Everything that Draco was saying had meaning in it. He loved her, he needed someone untouched by this. He needed normalcy, affection, love in return. He needed to feel like she was his and not the Dark Lord's. Their father had been taken by him, a once devoted family man ripped away into the inner circle unable to break free. He was trying to save her and at the same time living through her.

Graces watched as Madam Hooch began to walk across the field. It was all so surreal how life just continued. Draco had wanted to put all of this on hold. He had said that he was going to skip this game, their biggest game, and attend to other things. He had been willing to allow life to pass by without him just like their father had done after fourth year. He had missed so many things. When Draco had told her of his plans to skip the game she had felt the first stings of loss. It was like watching their father all over again, only she was not her mother. She was not going to allow her brother to meet the same fate.

So she raged. She raged for a full day about him skipping the game, because in her mind she was raging for the loss of his soul. At one point she even brought on the water works and sobbed uncontrollably in his dorm room about what an awful big brother he was being. How he was leaving her alone for such a big game. How he never spent time with her playing Quidditch anymore. How it wasn't fair for him to skip this game. How he was letting her and the whole team down. On and on she had went until Draco acceded to her will and announced he would play.

"Graces, I need you to understand this," Draco said gently, calling his sister back from her thoughts.

"I understand," Graces said hollowly turning her head back.

"I want us to have a good day." Graces closed her eyes to her brother's hand on her shoulder. "We're going to play a good game, see our Mum and get utterly pissed at the party tonight."

"You may not want to get too pissed," Graces smiled, causing Draco to frown and look at her questioningly. "Pansy may take advantage of you."

"Oh, bloody hell," Draco groaned.

"Pansy would be an awesome sister for me to have."

"Don't start," Draco warned, putting out a wary finger and moving away from his sister. "I'm serious, Graces. It's not funny."

"Oh, come on Draco!" Graces teased. "Imagine how nice it would be having Pansy around _all the time."_

"Nice for who?! You? You're not the one that would have to go to bed with her."

"I go to bed with her all throughout the school year. She's a wonderful roommate: tidy, respectful of space, organized, doesn't stay up late, knows when to leave you alone. She does spend quite a lot of time getting dressed in the morning, but she's always qui—"

"That is not what I meant."

"Oh?" Graces began innocently. " Then what did you mean?"

"You know very well what I meant."

"Hmm—Draco! How crude!"

"Fuck you!"

"Hey now. That is not okay, Draco. Malfoys don't marry family members anymore."

"UGH! You, you—"

"Hey! Where are you going?!"

"Away from you!" Draco called, already in the middle of the pitch. "I'm going to warm up and try to forget what a vile sister I have!"

Graces laughed vibrantly over her own humor until a quaffle smacked her on the side.

"G-g-get y-your h-h-head in th-the g-g-game, Mmm-mmal-f-foy!" Higgs called, sending another quaffle towards another hoop, almost succeeding in getting it in.

"Higgs, you prat! It's just warm ups!"

"Th-then w-warm up!"

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Graces nervously stood in front of the posts. Their team was not quite up to par this season and she knew it. A lot of pressure was on Draco to get the snitch and on her to prevent as many goals as possible. The Weaslette was actually pretty good on a broom, and it was proving to be a much harder task than she had anticipated. Thomas was a good flyer, but the boy had a harder time maneuvering through the Gryffindor teams tactics. Thomas wasn't the sort to play dirty. If someone came up close to him, he slowed down and tried to lose them, rather than shove them off. He had already been nailed by a bludger in his shoulder after Ginny had ended up herding him to the outskirts of the pitch where one was coming.

Graham had been furious with both Thomas and Crabbe for not stopping the bludger from hitting him. And, of course, Graces herself had lost it and began screaming across the field at Graham for yelling at Thomas and not checking his shoulder. This caused Gryffindor to receive their first goal with her distraction, something that the whole team, including Draco, was not happy about.

The only consolation she had was looking over at the Gryffindor bleachers and seeing that Neville was not cheering the goal like the rest of his house. Graces clutched her broom handle tightly and began to refocus on the task at hand. Robins was now closing, she had a more fluid and playful way about getting towards the goals. She dipped and spun, making it nearly impossible for Graham to regain the ball and difficult for her to have an idea of which post she was going for.

The blond took a deep breath as the girl neared and was convinced that Robins was going to send it through the main hoop as she leaned back, but was caught off guard and the girl dropped suddenly lower and hurled the quaffle towards the lower left hoop. Graces tightened her legs around the broom and threw her body down and smacked the quaffle so that it barely missed.

"Good save, Malfoy!" Graham called over, as he tore away towards the other side of the pitch quaffle in hand.

Graces hoisted herself up among the Slytherin applause and looked over to the Gryffindor side to see Neville, and Luna, cheering loudly among the stands, not even caring at the looks and groans they were getting.

_He needs to watch it. It's going to be too obvious._

_He's fine. Luna is doing the same. They will just chalk it up to him being a good sport._

_Even you know that is lame. It's all too obvious._

"We have an issue."

Graces jumped and looked to her side where Draco was hovering beside her.

"Damn right we do," she scowled. "What the bloody hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be finding the snitch."

Draco gave his sister a glare, but continued on. "Like I said. We have an issue."

"Fine," Graces conceded, checking to make sure the quaffle was still far off before giving her brother her full attention. "What is our issue?"

"Potter."

"Well, that isn't new," the blonde scoffed, facing the game again.

"He's trying to get a look at my arm."

"What are you talking about?"

"He keeps flying on my left side, and looking at my arm."

"You're being paranoid, Draco."

"I don't think I am," Draco said slowly as Harry began wandering over to their side of the pitch.

"Malfoys!"

Graces and Draco both jumped as Blaise came flying towards them.

"Will you get your bloody heads in the game! I swear if I see you two talking one more time on this pitch I'm going to have Crabbe knock a bludger at both your heads."

Draco gave his sister a wary glance, and begrudgingly left her side in search for the snitch.

"Hey! If you're so worried, end the game!" she called out, only half joking.

Graces considered watching Potter and seeing if her brother was in fact being paranoid, but from that point on the game seemed to take off. Quaffle after quaffle was being belted towards the goals, and she didn't have the time or energy to focus on anything else. She was reaching, bounding, and practically falling off her broom to make the saves. Multiple times she had yelled at Graham that he needed to get the quaffle over to the other side, that she needed a break, but it appeared the Gryffindors had better players/tactics because they continually had the quaffle and were sending it over.

Finally, Thomas and Blaise had worked together and got the quaffle and were currently speeding down the pitch passing it off as they headed towards the goals. Graces leaned down on her broom and sucked in as much of the cold October air as possible, trying to bring her heart rate down. As she laid against the handle she looked down. Draco was searching for the snitch; ducking diving, climbing the air, frantically searching to put this game to an end, all the while Harry was following close behind and staring at his left arm; not even looking for a glint of gold.

_He's not being paranoid._

No sooner had the thought hit her, did Graces see the snitch. It was hovering just off aways from her. Draco wasn't even close to seeing it, he was currently heading lower, not high up where she was. She slowly kept taking deep breaths, not wanting to even so much as move, incase the tiny pod saw and darted away. She needed Draco's attention, this game had to end. It had to end before Potter did the typical Gryffindor tactic of bluntly acting, and moved to expose her brother's arm. She began descending downward in the hopes she could get in a shot of his vision and nodd him over in the right direction. But right as she was almost in his line of vision the snitch darted right.

Graces didn't even check to ensure that the quaffle was over at the other end, before zipping off towards the snitch. All the while screaming for Draco to follow suit.

"Graces! What are you doing! The goals are—"

"Draco! Stop yelling at me and catch up!" Graces screamed, making an abrupt dive as the piece of gold went down.

"You can't catch the snitch, Graces!" Draco bellowed, now on her heel.

"No, but I can ensure it's not lost and that you are the one to get to it!"

Graces gritted her jaw as the cold air pierced through her, determined to keep Harry from the snitch and her brother's arm. She wanted to glance back. She wanted to see if Potter was speeding to pass Draco for snitch or if he was staying near him for a chance to get at his arm. He had a better broom, he was a better flyer, and yet she saw no signs of Raven hair in her vision, only blonde.

Draco pulled over on her left side, now handle to handle with her as they dived down towards the ground.

"I got this," he gritted against the air, dismissing her to go back to her post where she was needed, but Graces didn't dare leave. Potter had just pulled up, and instead of moving more forward towards the snitch, he was keeping his speed to parallel where Draco's arm clutched his broom. Graces allowed Draco to gain the lead and stayed on his right side watching Harry, as he gripped his broom tighter with one hand and with the other reached forward to Draco's.

Luckily, at that moment the snitch had veered upward and Draco followed it in pursuit. Harry cursed and climbed higher in the air, completely unaware of Graces as she manouvered herself to fly up in between the two boys, blocking Harry's access to Draco's arm.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MALFOY!" Harry yelped, almost losing his balance as Graces rushed between the two of them knocking him hard against his side.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, _POTTER_!" Graces spat, her only focus in keeping Harry and Draco separated. "Draco! WIll you grab that damn snitch already!"

"It's not that simple!" Draco shouted back, now flying forward as the golden pain in his ass started flying parallel to the ground again.

"Je vais sauter," Graces warned, knowing that Potter did not speak French and would be lost to her plans.

"No, no you're not."

"Si, je vais le faire," Graces argued. "Comme on s'est entraîné à la maison."

"We are too high!" Draco roared, an edge of panic in his voice.

"Un!" Graces took a deep breath. "Deux!" She made sure she was as close as possible to Draco's broom. "Trois!" And she was airborne, jumping off her own Nimbus and onto the back of Draco's, hurrying to grip the wood and gain control so Draco could climb forward, not caring that her own broom was currently plummeting to the ground to meet it's end. "I got it, go!"

Draco glanced back for one moment to ensure that his sister was securely on the broom before moving to the edge of his broom handle, wildly grabbing at the snitch. Graces accelerated forward, glaring at the flit of gold to keep this course and not dive anywhere else. She prayed that this would work especially because Harry had overcome his initial shock over their maneuver and was now racing back towards them.

"I'm going to jump it!"

"No! I can't—"

Before Graces could argue, Draco had thrust himself off the broom towards the snitch. Graces didn't even care to look and see if he succeeded in his task. She threw herself forward gripping the broom between her thighs and with both hands grabbed the ends of Draco's robes. And they were now both going down. The broom had plummeted nose first under her's and Draco's weight, and she had slipped off like a child going down a firepole.

"Grab the broom!" Draco shouted, as they descended down. "Graces! Grab the bloody handle!"

Graces could hardly breath. They were falling. They were falling. She was searching her robes for her wand. So she could accio her Nimbus to her, but Draco kept yelling for her to grab the broom. Blindly she grabbed at the air, until she felt the hard wood.

"UP! UP! UP! UPUPUPUP!" She screamed, praying that it would stop. That it would halt in midair, and prevent them from hitting the ground. Suddenly, her arm jerked up sharply, causing the tendon in her shoulder to sear with pain. They had stopped falling. She looked up, to see if she could swing herself on the broom, and was shocked to see Harry gripping the other end of the Nimbus with one hand.

Graces had a feeling that Harry was cursing both her and Draco at the moment, but she couldn't hear him over the screaming coming from around the pitch and the stands. It felt like she and Draco were dangling by a thin piece of thread that was her arm. She had a good grip on the handle, thanks to her gloves, but her arm was another story. She felt like it was tearing away from her body, and she could barely think. Draco was clinging to her still from the fall, and he was trying to reach up and take part of the handle as well to alleviate her from his weight.

"I can't hold on!" She whimpered.

"You don't have to."

A flood of relief washed over both blondes, Graham and Crabb showed up beside them. Both taking one of the twins, and heading towards the ground.

"Malfoy! You are such an idiot!" Graham snarled, holding Graces close to his chest as they headed down. "First you abandoned the goal. THE GOAL! What in bloody hell were you thinking! Thomas had to tear across the field to defend it, and Gryffindor got five goals in! FIVE! And then you and your dimwit brother pulled this little stunt. Look at your arm! I bet anything you tore something! You'll be out all year probably too! I bet Hooch is going to throw a fit, and we'll lose house points. Not to mention you could have—"

Graham stopped his rant as he realized that the air was filled with loud cheers as the whole Slytherin house swarmed down onto the field.

Draco had caught the snitch.

"We won?" Graham whispered, mounting off his broom and still holding Graces in his arms. "We really won?!"

"WE WON!" Graces shrieked, no longer caring that her arm was on fire, just screaming cheers with the rest of her house as they swarmed around her and her teammates. Draco was grinning from ear to ear as a few 7th years lifted him on their shoulders.

"Graham! We won!" She cheered, fist pumping her good hand in the air, trying to bring her captain out of his daze.

"We won," the captain whispered, now looking down at Graces and slowly smiling. "GODS AND GODDESSES WE WON!" Graces gave a yelp as Graham threw her up and started hugging her violently as he twirled her around.

"You're behaving like a Gryffindor!" Graces giggled, as the boy continued on crushing her in a hug like a ragdoll.

"I don't care!" Graham declared, dipping Graces down and kissing her hard on the mouth. Clearly forgetting their audience, and only pulling away after Graces gave a little eep of surprise. "Malfoy, you wonderful, wonderful girl we won!"

Graces nodded shyly, blushing crimson and touching her mouth delicately with her fingers.

"Graham!" Draco shouted high above in the air. "I am going to hex your balls off if I see you kiss my sister like that again!"

"I shall make sure you don't see, then!" Graham called back smiling, but placing Graces down, so that he could grab Draco off of the shoulders he was riding on and embrace him as well. "I swear Malfoy, I could kiss you too over this!"

"Please don't," Draco rasped, as the muscular boy crushed him harder between his chest.

Graces smiled at the scene, and then shot a glance up towards the Gryffindor stands to see Neville watching over the barrings.

"Malfoy!" Graces turned and saw Professor Snape striding towards her. "Come here, we are going to the hospital wing to get that arm taken care of."

Graces looked over to the stands where the families were now starting to come down and hesitated.

"Your mother will be here after, you silly girl, but you are coming with me now to take care of that arm," Snape insisted, now looming over her. "I already spoke to her. It will just be a few minutes."

"Can't she come with me?" Graces asked, moving on her toes to see her mother.

"I wasn't aware that you needed your mummy when you were injured," Snape sneered. "Want her to come and kiss away the pain?"

Graces blushed and followed Snape off the pitch, the potions master assessing her arm as they walked away.

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The crowd had finally died down over their win, and Draco managed to escape the assembly of pats on the backs, hugs and cheers and make it over to his mother whom he couldn't hold back from embracing warmly. Though he was shocked to find that his embrace was not met with the usual kiss to his cheek, and mutterings of how much he had grown. Instead his mother had flinched, the kind of flinch someone makes when they were hurt, the flinch he had just seen Graces make a dozen times as people rushed towards her and her arm was jostled.

Draco frowned and pulled away. "Mum?"

"Mrs. Malfoy," Nott greeted, coming up beside Draco. "How nice to see you again under much more pleasant circumstances."

Draco scowled and turned towards his mother. She had not made any mention in any of her letters that she had visited with Nott, and he knew for a fact that the last time she had visited with him, to his knowledge, was when Graces and he were still dating and the visit was exceptionally pleasant.

"When did you visit with Nott?" Draco asked.

"Just the other night," Nott answered. "We had... matters to discuss. I visited her along with a few other new members of our _political party_. She didn't tell you? How odd."

Draco tried to maintain himself, to not look as panicked as he felt, but he knew he wasn't succeeding. His mother continued to glare at Theodore, her blue eyes piercing his with no amount of fear, but Draco's eyes didn't hold such strength nor did the rest of his body. And Nott saw that.

"Well, I should leave family alone to reunite," Nott continued, taking Draco's mother's hand and grasping it courteously with both of his. "Always a pleasure, Mrs. Malfoy. I do hope I get to see more of you in times like this when celebrations are in order."

Draco turned and moved to take hold of Nott's shoulder, but before he could Narcissa took his hand in hers.

"Shall we take a stroll around the pitch, darling?" she asked pleasantly. "Your father used to take me for strolls around the pitch after his games. He would always insist on it. Said that he enjoyed showing me off to the other families here visiting." Draco watched as his mother smiled at the memory, moving her hand so she was holding his arm. "He always did like to show me off. I think that part of it was because he really had to win me over before I was his."

"Mum," Draco began, trying hard to ignore how his tongue was vibrating in his mouth. "Did-did Nott, did he.. did he hurt you?"

"How is your project coming along, darling?" Narcissa sidestepped pleasantly. "Do you need any kind of aid? I was made aware that your last attempt at finishing it didn't go over quite so well."

"Oh, Merlin," Draco choked, bending over and clutching at his mouth to keep from being sick. "Oh Gods. He did."

"Shhhh," Narcissa comforted, moving her arm under her son's chest and pulling him up. Embracing him tightly against herself, and allowing him a moment of weakness as he clung to her like the child he was. "It's okay, darling. It's fine. Nothing too bad. Nothing unforgivable."

"I'm s-sorry," Draco sobbed, hiding his face in her collar. "I'm so, so—"

"Nothing for you to be sorry about, my dragon. Nothing at all. Now calm down and sit up. I can't have you crying like this with people around. You're a Malfoy. We don't break down in front of an audience. Calm down."

Draco nodded, and stood up. Wiping his eyes with the ends of his sleeves, before facing his mother.

"Did anyone?"

"Nott, of course, saw, but no one else." Draco cursed at the news, and then quickly apologised as his mother shot him a disapproving glare.

"What did they do to you?" he asked darkly, staring into his mother's eyes and swearing vengeance.

"Like I said, nothing unforgivable. A whipping."

"He whipped you?" Draco growled lowly.

"Draco," the older woman began urgently, taking her son's face in the palm of her hands. "Now is not the time for vengeance. Now is the time to keep your head down and do the task that you were given and to watch your sister like a hawk," she added urgently. "Nott is not going to be on top forever. He is counting on you failing and our family being killed off. He is not counting on your success. Work towards success, Draco, and not vengeance. If you do that you shall see that vengeance will follow suit and be that much sweeter."

Draco knew his mother's words carried a great deal of wisdom, but at the moment it was all just noise. He wanted vengeance now. His whole body was vibrating with the need to tear Theodore Nott limb from limb for touching his mother.

"Nott is a stupid boy," Narcissa continued. "He hurt me out of anger and humiliation. He couldn't touch you, or your sister, so he went after me. He forgot who my sister is and what her standing is with the Dark Lord. I have it on good authority that he will not be pleased to hear about Nott acting without speaking to him. The Dark Lord doesn't know that you prevented him from hurting you, so this will seem like Nott is just going rogue, and while our Lord enjoys pain he doesn't enjoy silly boys that don't follow orders."

"And what if he doesn't care?" Draco hissed, tearing away from his mother. "What if Nott sells this as a way to motivate me to move faster?"

"Then your father will take care of this once he is released."

Draco bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming that they could not rely on their father coming back. That they had to face the reality that they may never see him outside Azkaban ever again. This very well may be how their family was to operate now, him as the head trying to scramble to protect them, but he couldn't bring himself to shatter his mother's hopes.

Sons were raised to lose their fathers, but spouses were a different story. His mother and father had built a life together. They had raised children together and lived under the impression that they would die old surrounded by their grandchildren, comfortable, and with the reassurance that they had lived to their lives to the fullest. Draco imagined his mother had only thought that she would lose her husband tragically to death, or in old age, not have him ripped away like this.

"Look, here comes your sister. Let us put this away. All will be fine, there is no need to worry her so."

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Neville stood up in the stands and watched as Graces returned to the field, her arm wrapped up in a sling but not preventing her from running towards her mother and embracing her with her good arm.

"Neville," Hermione called, watching the scene as well. "Why are you still up here?"

"Just watching," Neville murmured, knowing that telling Hermione that he was waiting to see when Graces left the field so he would know how long to wait until seeing her would not go over well. "Must be nice to have family like that."

Hermione looked down at Graces as she animately talked to her mother, clearly asking if she had seen her highlights of the game as she kicked the open air and moved her good arm as though she were throwing a quaffle.

"I don't think I would envy Malfoy for having the parents she has," Hermione said cooly.

"Maybe not," Neville shrugged, continuing to look out.

The whole Higgs clan was now walking over to greet the small patch of blondes. Thomas ran ahead of his other cousins towards Graces and pulled her forward so his mother could take a photo of the two of them. From there all the other families joined in, the parents talking as the players caught up with older alumni and everyone took pictures together. Draco and Graces had both taken pictures together for their mother, and Draco had pulled Thomas in for a few shots as well as Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle and Graham. Then all the pictures stopped as a petite, dark-haired witch started walking on the field, a tiny blonde darting ahead of her as she clutched a blue bundle tightly to her.

"Who is she?" Hermione asked, as every single person swarmed around her to see the baby.

"Terrence Higgs' wife."

"Is he important?"

"No, not especially. He's the patriarch for the Higgs clan, but that's about it. Most of the people you see down there are Higgs. They're a very old pureblood family, very traditional too. They don't use any kind of birth control. They have dozens of children. Thus they have a huge family. I'm guessing this is only Thomas' immediate family, plus Terrence there as the patriarch and old alumnus." Neville stared down as Graces took the tiny bundle in her arms, and smiled softly at the sight. "Why did you ask?"

"Everyone is crowded around his wife and baby," Hermione commented, looking down as well at the scene. "I had figured he was important."

"Purebloods are just very into children. They're coveted," Neville explained, turning and facing Hermione who seemed to be very interested in this world beyond her. "You should hear my gran on the subject," he grinned. "The way she talks, I think she's expecting a ridiculous amount of grandchildren."

"Do you want a lot of kids?" Hermione asked, shifting her eyes over to Neville.

"I, uh, want them," Neville blushed, refocusing on watching Graces. "I'll probably allow my wife to decide on the amount though. I don't want her to feel pressured into bearing me children. I'll have to keep my gran from badgering her, but I really would be satisfied with however many she chose to give me."

"So long as she gives you a son," Hermione finished bitterly, clearly not liking how the pureblood families valued males over females.

"Sons carry the name," Neville defended. "It's not that we don't want daughters. I know for a fact Terrence down there was disappointed he didn't get a daughter. I overheard him at the Three Broomsticks talking about it. It's just that as a patriarch you need a son."

"What if you don't get a son?"

"I'll have a son," Neville said confidently.

"You can't know that," Hermione argued. "Let's say you don't have a son, then what do you do?"

"Nothing," Neville sighed, not at all liking how upset Hermione seemed to be getting. "I raise a daughter and hope she will keep my name and that she marries a man that is willing to allow one of his sons to have my last name. Though if they only have one son I don't see that happening."

"What are they doing now?" Hermione gasped, leaning over the edge.

"They're showing the baby magic," Neville chuckled, watching as Draco made sparks come out of his wand above the baby. "If your parents were magical they would have done the same with you. It's so the baby doesn't grow up frightened of things in the magical world."

"What if the baby touches the tip of the wand?" Hermione asked nervously.

"It will get a little shock and after a few times realize you don't touch wands that aren't your own, a good lesson for them to learn now rather than when they are five and daddy leaves his wand out on the kitchen table or something."

"Thomas what do you think you are doing?!" Terrence's wife screamed, moving away from Narcissa and over to her cousin who was currently placing her other son on his broom with him as everyone else fussed over the baby.

Thomas looked over at his cousin's wife and made a gesture that said without words: what does it look like I'm doing?

"No. Absolutely not! He's too little for brooms. Off!"

"Arella, my sweet," Terrence broke in, running forward. "It's just a little ride. He's with Thomas, it's fine."

"Fine? Did you not see the game? Graces and Draco almost ended up killing themselves on the field!"

"Yeah, because they were both being stubborn and reckless," Terrence laughed, wagging his finger over at the twins who just smiled and reminded him they caught the snitch. "Thomas is just taking him on a little flight around the field. Nothing will happen."

"Fine," Arella clipped, folding her arms about her tightly. "Fine, if you're okay with your son, _your heir_ , spinning about on a broom then who am I to argue."

"Darling, he's com—"

"Don't you darling me, Terrence Higgs," the brunette continued, moving away as her husband took a step forward to hold her.

"How about if Draco rides with them?" Terrence offered, obviously trying to appease his wife. "Would that be better?"

Arella bit her lip for a moment, before turning towards the blonde boy.

"Draco, do you mind? I don't want to put you out."

"Don't mind at all," Draco smiled, placing his wand in his pocket and striding over confidently, swinging his leg over and mounting the broom in a fluid stream of motions..

"Not too high," Arella conditioned, adjusting Draco so he was closer to Thomas and holding the child as well. Neville imagined it was an awkward way to fly. The child in the front with Thomas' arms around him tightly as he gripped the broom, and Draco behind Thomas his hands on the tiny toddler as his arms braced around Thomas' middle. Both boys didn't seem to enjoy the positioning either. "Terrence," Arella called, looking over at her husband. "Will you fly under them?"

"Will it put your pretty head at ease?" The small witch simply nodded, and rushed over to kiss her husband soundly when he summoned an old broom over.

Neville wished he had had all this growing up. He never had anyone to take him up on a broom for a flight. He didn't particularly like flying, it made him nervous and frightened, but he wondered if that would have been different if he'd had a father that took him flying on his broom once in a while and a mother that fussed over his safety. His gran and great uncle Algie were both too old for such things by the time they got him, not to mention his gran was extremely protective of him as a child. He was the last, the last of their line and the last thing she had of his father.

Neville motioned Hermione towards the stairs, not particularly wanting to be caught watching the intimate gathering among the Slytherins and their families, and also knowing the sight of Hermione would not in any way be welcomed.

"Why aren't you with Ron and Harry?" he asked as they descended the stairs. Hermione shrugged and looked back over to where the purebloods were, before continuing on. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, everything's fine."

"And yet you are here with me and not with them," Neville commented, nodding and pursing his lips. "Yeah, that sounds like everything is fine." Hermione cleared her throat and just nodded.

"You don't have to tell me, Hermione. I suppose we all have secrets. You just look a bit upset."

"I—I just would rather not be around for Ron and Lavender's snogging fest, and Harry has been particularly moody lately. All he ever wants to discuss is Malfoy."

"So you chose to stay watching the Malfoys?" Neville chuckled, finding humor in how agitated Hermione appeared to be over all this.

"I just saw you lingering behind so I did as well," she explained quietly, walking alongside Neville in silence as they entered the castle. "All those people down there hate me, huh?"

"They don't know you, so they can't very well hate you."

"You know they don't need to know me to hate me," Hermione said bitterly.

Neville nodded. He wished he could deny that, that he could tell Hermione that they didn't actually hate her, but they did. It was misplaced, wrong and deplorable, but it was the truth. They hated her. Hermione could die tomorrow and none of them would care.

_Including Graces..._

_I don't think she hates her as much as she lets on. It's probably an act. A lot of what she does is an act. She doesn't hate me. And she listens to muggle music._

"They wouldn't feel that way if they knew you, Hermione," Neville comforted gently. "They were raised with wrong beliefs. It's like they were brainwashed," he added. "Take it with a grain of salt. They hate me too."

"I just don't understand why," Hermione gritted, clearly torn between crying and screaming.

"Because you looked down on the field today and didn't know who they were by name. You didn't know what they were doing with a magical baby. You don't know their history, their customs, their culture, how to raise magical children. You're from the world that tried to burn us at the stake, a world where magic is feared, and they expect you to marry into this world and raise a magical child with the customs and etiquette you were raised with."

"Then why has there been no effort made to integrate me!" Hermione snapped. "Why was there no program to teach me these things or anyone to come into my life earlier than a month before I was expected to leave my world?!"

"Hermione, I didn't mean to say—"

"It's not fair! No one told me anything! I'm the best in my class. I work harder than anyone else! But no one has once offered to teach me about living in this world. No purebloods care to! We have muggle studies, but no pureblood etiquette class."

"There are reasons they wait until you are old enough to attend the school, Hermione. You have no idea what used to happen back when they would show up and tell parents that their new baby was magical." The bushy haired girl frowned and waited for Neville to go on. "The parents killed them, Hermione. They killed their little babies. Maybe not right away, but they eventually became frightened and killed them. They thought it was satanic. They would drown the baby in holy water. They believed they were possessed and "treated" them until the child eventually died. There was one group that was convinced that it wasn't their children. They were convinced their baby had been switched at birth by demons or fairies, and they would take the child and throw it in the fire believing that if they did so their child would return. The Ministry waited in order to give children a chance. An eleven year old is better able to defend themselves than an infant or toddler. Not to mention a Ministry official stays for a bit and talks to the parents trying to gauge whether or not the child could be left alone."

"You just saw how purebloods react to children. Like I said, children are coveted. They view muggles as the type of people that can kill their own children, a mortal sin in pureblood society. Blood is blood. Killing a child is evil, but killing your own child is beyond salvation."

"It was dark times," Hermione exclaimed. "It wasn't—"

"Hermione, I may not be like Slytherin purebloods, but I can't see an excuse for that."

"They thought the children were evil. They were wrong, but they were raised in a church that—"

"No," Neville cut off. "Even if I knew without a doubt my child would be the next Dark Lord, I wouldn't touch a hair on his or her head. It's your child, and I would die defending my child, right or wrong."

I'm not saying it's justifiable!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm just trying to explain where it came from, why it happened."

"The thing is, Mione. This is an example of why they view you differently. None of us raised in this world would care the reasoning. No one would care to try and understand it. It would never happen here."

"So child abuse doesn't happen here. Is that what you are trying to say?"

"When child abuse happens here the penalty is death," Neville stressed slowly. "It happens, and when it does it is met with cries of immediate prosecution. Abusing a magical child endangers all of society, it is not taken lightly."

"So you're saying they have reasons to hate me," Hermione reiterated, angry tears welling up.

"That is not what I am saying. I am saying that they were raised with stories like that, and are therefore very misguided on what it is like to be from the muggle world," Neville corrected. "Hermione, I do not think anything about you like that. I have never looked down on you for being muggleborn. You are a witch to me just as Graces Malfoy is. Completely equal."

Neville jumped back as Hermione lunged forward and began hugging him tightly, burying her face in his chest as she hiccuped a sob.

"I—I just feel... I feel so alone sometimes."

"You're not," Neville comforted. "You're not."

"It was odd seeing them like that. Together, all those different families talking and being together when my family never could be here like that, would never be looked at as equals like that. In Diagon Alley they're met with looks, sneers or just curiosity, but never interacted with like that. Even with my friends I don't know things. Ron has to explain. Or Lavender and Parvati laugh and explain it to me like I should already know. Harry is the only one that understands, but he isn't called a mudblood. It's like I'm still considered lower. Potter is known, Granger is..."

Neville just nodded, and continued holding her, silently wondering how he became the person people started crying to as Hermione continued on.

"You're different now," Hermione said quietly after a while.

"How so?"

"I don't know. You're... more confident? More at ease it seems. Not all the time, but a lot of the time."

"Hmmm," Neville hummed. "Come on, lets get going. I'm sure there is a party going on, despite our loss, and I think you are in need of something to cheer you up."


	31. Chapter 31

Neville had been waiting in the abandoned classroom for well over two hours, making him regret his decision to leave the pitch before seeing Graces leave herself. He had changed out of his Slytherin ensemble and decided to wear something a bit more... stylish for a change, a decision that made him feel more awkward than he cared to admit.

Then again nothing really could make the sandy-haired boy feel at ease. He was in love. He was in love with Graces Malfoy. It happened so fast. He had thought he would have more time. Things with Graces were more complicated half the time than good. He had thought it would come slowly, not all at once. Then again, maybe it didn't come all at once. Maybe this whole time he had been closer to loving her than he realized. Maybe, like Graces, he liked to fool himself into thinking they were not so far gone.

Neville took a long, deep breath trying to calm the fluttering in his chest that had started after his realization earlier. Loving someone was an incredibly intense feeling. It was amazing in so many ways to feel that kind of devotion to another person and terrifying because of how much that person meant. His heart was off with Graces Malfoy, Graces who soars high into the air and falls off her broomstick at Quidditch matches. In those few moments Neville had lived an eternity.

He thought she was done, that he would have to watch as she plummeted to the ground and broke apart like a glass doll. The woman he loved turning into nothing more than a body to be buried. It was the worst feeling he had ever experienced. A whole life where Graces was dead and gone flashed into his mind, and in those few seconds he realized he was going to go on living his life lifeless.

It was an intense realization to have your whole life's happiness wound up in another person, a person you had no control over. He couldn't lock Graces up in a dungeon to keep her safe, but he now understood why people died of broken hearts. Because if Graces had fallen to her death, he had no doubt his heart would have shattered along with her. Neville shook the thought away not wanting to even think about the feelings that had welled up inside him as he watched her dangle from that broom handle.

Slowly he took some deep breaths through his nose, determined to ride out this nauseous feeling that had now overcome him with such thoughts.

_Just think of something else. Don't be sick. Don't be sick. She's okay. She's okay, and she will be here soon. She will be here soon and I will be able to hold her and kiss her, but if I get sick I won't be able to do either. So calm down, Neville._

"Good evening, Mr. Longbottom." Neville opened his eyes, and let out another long slow breath but this time for very different reasons. Graces was breathtaking. "Don't you look handsome," she smiled playfully walking forward and getting a better look. "Very debonair. _Now_ I believe that Madame Blanc is your godmother."

"Decent pants and a nice black shirt was all it took?" Neville chuckled, turning around as Graces circled him.

"That is not just a shirt," Graces scoffed, smiling despite herself. "The way you say it it sounds like you're just wearing a T, and not a nice button down."

"A shirt's a shirt," Neville smiled, rolling his eyes.

"If you believed that you wouldn't have worn this one."

"Maybe I just wore it for you." That earned him a very sweet blush from the blonde. "You look stunning by the way," Neville continued, moving closer to her being careful not to touch her arm as he pulled her near. "Almost stunning enough to make me forget that you almost killed yourself."

"Well, that was a quick turn," Graces frowned.

"I don't particularly like watching you dangle from a broom, or seeing your arm wrapped up like this. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking about winning the game. Don't be so fussy. I'm fine, aren't I?"

"You could have died."

"Oh, come on, Longbottom. Do you honestly think no one would have saved us before we hit the ground? Don't be silly. There were hundreds of wands out in the stands." Neville hummed some form of continued annoyance, to which Graces just smiled at. "I played well didn't I? Did you see me saving those goals?"

"I did. You were very good," Neville admitted reluctantly.

"Did you cheer each time for me?"

"Of course," Neville conceded gently, no longer giving Graces a pointed glare for her foolishness. "I cheered for every single save, and even when you and Draco got the snitch," Neville added, leaning down to kiss Graces.

"Oh, no no no, you can't kiss me!"Graces exclaimed jumping out of his arms.

Neville frowned and put his arms down, feeling slightly humiliated at the rejections.

"And why, may I ask, not?"

"Lipstick. I'm wearing red lipstick, didn't you notice?"

"Trust me, Graces. There is not one aspect of how you look right now that I did not notice."

"Well, you can't kiss me while I'm wearing lipstick," Graces repeated, blushing and looking away. " You'll mess it all up, and I want to look nice for the party. I won't have time to fix it up again. I have to meet Pansy, we're walking out to it together. It's going to be in the forest, and considering I was a main part of winning the game I want to look my best."

"That is an evil trick," Neville scolded playfully. "Here you are with a color on your lips that make them look, if possible, even more deliciously kissable and you're telling me I can't kiss you?" Graces just giggled and nodded smugly. "That's just cruel, Miss Malfoy, even for you."

"It really is a shame isn't it? Especially, because today of all days you deserve a kiss."

"Now, you're just teasing me," Neville groaned, as Graces came close to him and fiddled with the ends of his collar as though they needed to be fixed.

"No, I'm really not," Graces mused, leaning into him so that one of her long legs was right between his. Giving this air of proximity that had Neville's head clouded to the point where he didn't realize she was unbuttoning the right cuff of his shirt until he felt his wrist exposed to the open air.

"What are you doing?" Neville asked huskily, unable to hide the arousal in his voice.

"You deserve a kiss," Graces reminded innocently. "I'm giving you one."

Neville held his breath as Graces leaned down and kissed the pulse on his wrist, leaving a red cherry stain of her lips on his skin.

"I think this is better don't you?" Graces asked, looking up at Neville from her long eyelashes. "You can keep it for the night. It won't just go away, it will linger." Neville unsure of what to say, and still not quite sure how to breathe again, just nodded as Graces began to button up the cuffs on his sleeves. "Just keep it covered," she reminded gently.

Even without the sight of the kiss, Neville could feel the blood in his veins begin to boil. He wanted to kiss Graces now even more than before. Something was just so alluring about the thought of ravishing her lips, and messing up her so put together look. Not to mention he didn't mind if her lipstick ended up on him, especially if it ended up in other areas...

"So Montague gets to kiss you all he wants on the field in front of the whole school, and I have to settle for a gentle kiss goodnight?" Neville asked, moving closer into her.

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy in your voice, Mr. Longbottom?" Graces asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because, as we discussed many a times, I am not your girlfriend."

"Nooo, you're not," Neville conceded slowly. "But we did agree to remain monogamous. I think you would hex me if you saw me kissing some girl on a field for all to see."

Graces stopped her teasing and looked at Neville thoughtfully.

"It really did bother you, didn't it?"

"A bit," Neville shrugged. "I know it wasn't romantic, that it was a spur of the moment thing on his part, and that you were caught off guard, but I can't say I enjoyed seeing another bloke kiss you."

"I didn't kiss him back," Graces swore, moving so that she was closer to Neville, but not touching him.

"I know you didn't. Like I said, I know it wasn't anything romantic, but still..."

"Graham stole that kiss," Graces stated, watching Neville carefully. "I did not give it to him. Don't let it bother you. He means very little to me."

"Does that mean I mean something more to you?"

"It means Graham means little to me," Graces repeated, sending a pointed look to Neville that told him not to press her any further.

Neville smiled and nodded his head. He knew not to press, and he also knew that her saying Graham means little to her was meant to comfort him, meaning he meant something to her.

"I hate when you smile like that," Graces pouted folding her arms, and moving away.

"Like what?"

"Like you think you know something."

"Well, I definitely know _something_ ," Neville laughed. "For example, I know I have impeccable taste when it comes to women's blouses, because you, my dear, look amazing." Graces smiled bashfully, and looked down to try and conceal her flattery. Slowly, Neville took her hand and pulled her close to him.

"I'm dying to kiss you, Graces," he whispered, moving his hand to her chin and tilting it upward. "If you have any humanity in you, you'll end my suffering and let me kiss you."

"You'll have lipstick all over your mouth," Graces breathed, clearly becoming intoxicated off Neville's proximity.

"I'm sure it will wash off," Neville murmured, inching closer to Graces' lips. He was just about to kiss her. Kiss her in ways that made her forget all about the Slytherin party, and make her choose to stay there with him for the evening continuing on, when the door to the classroom banged open, causing both of them to jump apart from one another.

"Wh-what are you two doing here?" Hermione asked, completely dismayed at walking in on the pair of them together. Neville frowned at Hermione's appearance. Tears were still rolling down her cheeks, and her eyes were bloodshot.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Neville asked, moving towards his friend concerned.

"I-I'm fine," Hermione said hollowly, still staring at the pair of them. "Why are you two in here alone?"

"That doesn't seem to be any of your business, Granger," Graces said coolly.

Hermione looked over at the blonde for a long time, clearly taking in her full appearance. The tight fitted jeans, the black blouse that hugged her curves and showed off her collar, the necklace that was glinting just below her breasts, the smoky eyes, and red lipstick.

"Neville?" Hermione asked, looking at the boy in front of her as though he were a stranger.

Neville didn't have a clue what he could say. It was definitely odd that he and Graces were alone in the classroom together so well dressed, standing so close.

"Neville, what's going on?" Hermione persisted.

"I, uh, well, there were two parts of the bet..." Neville stammered blushing.

"What was the other part?" Hermione asked, looking back over at Graces in disbelief.

"We wagered on who would win the game," Graces shrugged, giving Hermione a smug smile. "Longbottom, here owes me some money now."

"You're making friendly bets with Malfoy?" Hermione asked, her voice not showing any signs of disapproval, but loaded with betrayal.

"I would hardly call a thousand galleons a friendly wager," Neville commented.

"A thousand galleons!" Hermione exclaimed. "Neville, you didn't."

"Yeah, I, uh, did." Neville could feel his heart racing in his chest. He wasn't used to this kind of deception. He only prayed Hermione would buy it. He fumbled for a moment, before digging in his pocket and pulling out his pouch of gold and holding it out to Graces.

He expected Graces to just play along, but the blonde just stood there staring at him. Looking almost unwilling to take the pouch.

"You can count it if you don't trust me, Malfoy. It's all there."

"How do you have this kind of gold, Longbottom?" Graces asked, still not moving to take the pouch. "Is this from your family vault?"

"Did you think I would make a wager without the gold to back it up?" Neville asked, feigning offense.

"You didn't answer my questions."

"I sold some plants," Neville explained evenly. "Well, I sold a whole greenhouse of plants, a greenhouse of roses that I altered to give off a better scent. I sold it to muggle perfume company. They were so impressed by my roses they paid me an advance to send them more. They are hoping to set up something more long term with me."

"Neville, when did you do all this?" Hermione asked, clearly shocked.

"I've grown the plants like that for years. It's really an interesting process, but—"

"No, when did you start a business?" Hermione stressed evenly.

"Well, I would hardly call it a business," Neville scoffed. "I just sold extra roses I had lying around in a greenhouse. I felt bad asking my gran to always be caring for them."

"Malfoy, are you going to take the money or what?" Neville asked, thrusting the pouch forward again.

Graces slowly came forward and took the pouch, her eyes not wavering from Neville's.

"Thanks."

Neville knew it was a ploy, but standing in front of Graces as she continued to glare at him like that still made him feel unsettled.

"Well, as fun as this has been, Longbottom, I must take my leave. I do have a party to attend to."

"Why did you two meet now?" Hermione continued, still looking at Graces. "And why when you were dressed so... so. Why did you two dress up to meet?"

"I didn't dress up to meet Longbottom!" Graces hissed. "My gods, why everyone thinks you are so brilliant is truly beyond me. We won. We finally beat you at Quidditch, so to celebrate the Slytherins are having a party." Graces then looked over at Neville. "And judging by the way Longbottom is dressed, I take it Gryffindor is as well. Though I don't know what it is you have to be celebrating."

"Drowning our sorrows," Neville shrugged.

"Oh, so I should expect to see Granger pulled out of the lake tomorrow?" Graces asked, perking up pleasantly.

"Okay," Neville sighed. "I think it is time for you to leave now, Malfoy."

Graces rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. She should have left a while ago anyways. Quickly, she hurried down to the courtyard to meet Pansy.

Neville watched her as she left. It was stupid, but he already missed her. Graces was easy to be with everyone else, was... not his to talk freely with. Without thinking Neville placed his hand over his wrist where he knew Graces' kiss lingered.

"Neville, what's going on?" Hermione asked, waking him from his thoughts.

"Nothing," Neville lied, his voice going about three pitches higher than normal.

Hermione didn't accept this answer. Neville had figured she wouldn't. She was too smart and observant not to notice the way his voice broke. _Or the way you were watching her leave. Nice move, Longbottom..._

"Neville," Hermione began slowly, "do you—"

Neville never thought he would be so happy to see Ron and Lavender snogging, but the moment the redhaired boy entered the room, practically falling over Lavender as he kissed her incessantly, he could have leaped for joy. Hermione seemed to forget all about questioning him as she pelted canaries at Ron before running out of the room in tears.

He did feel bad for Hermione. She was a good friend, and no one should have to see the person they were in love with be with someone else like that. Seeing them together in the halls is one thing, but having to watch them... well, there are certain things that belong in private.

"What were you and Hermione doing in here?" Ron asked suspiciously, as he took a few feathers from his mouth.

Neville could not believe that Ron had the gall to stand there with Lavender and ask that.

"Damn it, Ron. Grow up," Neville growled, storming out of the room before he said anymore.

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If this party had taken place any other year, Draco would have been thrilled. He was surrounded by classmates all patting him on the back, handing him a drink, and congratulating him on the win. He should have been on cloud nine. He should have been drinking like a fish and singing off key with Blaise. But he wasn't. He was tucked beside some tree trying to keep from being noticed so he could be alone with his thoughts. The drink he did have was not to celebrate with but to drown the image of his mother flinching from his head.

"Draco, darling!" _Shit._ "Come dance with me!"

"I, uh, would rather not," Draco mumbled, not wanting to dance or offend his sister's drunken friend.

"Please, Draco," Pansy slurred, taking his hand and spinning under it while giggling. Draco looked around for help, only to see his friends and sister just smiling knowingly at him.

"Oh, Draco, just dance with her already!" Graces called over the music, heading to the dance floor herself and dragging Millicent with her. "It won't kill you."

Draco, now unable to turn Pansy down without being rude, sighed and allowed himself to be dragged to the dance floor, only receiving a sympathetic look from Millicent as she too was being forced to join the festivities.

The blonde inwardly groaned as Pansy seemed to be hell bent on making this the most awkward situation imaginable for him. Not only was she drunkenly telling him how dreamy he was, but she had taken to hanging on his neck as she shuffled around on the dance floor, stepping on his toes every other step.

"See, isn't this better than being a wallflower?" Graces asked, taking another shot of some sort of green looking liquid and twirling about.

"Oh, yeah, so much fun," Draco exclaimed sarcastically, grabbing her good arm and pulling her over so she was between him and Pansy.

"Are you stealing a dance?" Graces laughed, as Draco began spinning her around making her feel dizzy.

"I'm your brother," Draco smiled smugly, "It's not considered stealing when I grab you to dance."

"Does that work both ways?" Graces grinned, losing her balance and falling onto him.

"Of course," Draco nodded, feigning a facade of seriousness. "You are always entitled to my time. Even if it is just a dance."

"I do so love being entitled," Graces mused.

"May I cut in?"

Draco looked up from smiling down on his sister, and immediately stiffened.

"Absolutely not," he glowered, pulling Graces into him closely so her face was cradled against his neck.

"Come on, Malfoy. It's one dance."

"Get away from my sister, Nott," Draco growled, jerking Graces behind him. "You're not touching a single hair on her head. I'll fucking kill you before I let you dance with her."

Nott looked around at the other Slytherins now watching the exchange. Draco realized that he had lost his composure, that he was baring his teeth and hiding his sister behind him like a dragon defending an egg, but he couldn't back down now, not with everyone watching.

"Shall we have a little chat, Draco?" Nott requested cordially, gesturing away from the clearing.

"I don't see us having anything to chat about."

"Don't be stupid, Malfoy," Nott whispered. "Do you love your sister? Your mother? Then come talk to me."

Draco stood there a few moments turning over Nott's request in his head. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to have to stand there while Nott moved his silver tongue at him. He wanted to humiliate him further by refusing him an audience, by defying his wishes.

_Because that worked out so well for you last time._

"Graces," Draco sighed turning around and facing his sister, who was currently glaring a hole in Nott's forehead. "I have to go talk to Nott," Draco groaned, rolling his eyes, as though this was just a mere inconvenience and not a threat.

"Draco," Graces whined. "We were dancing."

"I'll dance with you," Graham called over, moving away from a crowd of 7th years, and bowing cordially to Graces with a playful grin.

Draco couldn't help but enjoy the look on Nott's face as Graham came forth, and before he or Theodore could see Graces' response he gestured for Nott to follow him away.

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Graces stood there awkwardly in front of Graham. Graham was not the kind of guy you danced with. He was a rough around the edges kind of guy. He was burly and always looking as though he were ready to punch someone, and now he was standing in front of her as though he wanted to try and be the kind of guy a girl dances with at a party.

"Shall we?" he asked gesturing around as people once again started to enjoy the party. Graces wondered if he had to put a considerable amount of effort in making his face seem soft at the moment.

"I didn't know you danced."

"I'm not opposed to trying new things."

Graces folded her arms around her awkwardly, and bit her lip.

"Would you like a drink instead?" Graham offered, holding his arm out.

Graces, not being sure what else to do, nodded and allowed Graham to lead her over to the table. Though she still did not take his arm. It was odd having his hand on the small of her back and even odder to see him smiling comfortingly down at her. Usually her interactions with him were confined to the Quidditch pitch, which meant he was yelling and cursing at her.

"Do you like elf-wine? I brought a bottle here. If I had known how much Zabini was bringing I would have just left it in my dorm, save it for a rainy day kind of thing." Graham looked over at Graces hesitantly. "Anyways, would you like a glass?"

"Sure," Graces nodded quietly and watched as Graham fumbled with the cork nervously, before pouring it into a wine glass. "Are you going to have a drink?"

"No, I'm not much of a wine drinker."

"Not much of a wine drinker, and yet you have a bottle of wine," Graces murmured, taking a small sip.

"A man should always have a fine bottle of wine at hand," Graham recited, pouring himself a glass of fire whiskey. They each stood there for a few moments, Graces taking small sips of her wine and Graham moving the amber liquid around in his glass letting the ice clink. "So... you and Nott. I take it that's over? Completely."

Graces nodded and looked away shyly, having an idea of where Graham was getting at.

"Do you mind me asking why you broke it off with him?"

"I didn't love him."

"I think there's more to it than that," Graham surmised, waiting for more of an answer.

Graces, however, wasn't willing to give more of an answer. Nott's infidelity was her humiliation to bear alone, and she was not about to share it. Not to mention she didn't want word of it ever reaching Draco.

"You could tell me," Graham prodded. "I've never been one to gossip."

"I don't know why you are so certain it was more."

"Because that Ravenclaw girl that Nott slept with was the same one I was hoping to court myself."

"Oh, Graham," Graces breathed, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I don't particularly want to be dating a girl that sleeps with another girl's long standing boyfriend," Graham shrugged before looking down at Graces meaningfully. "I won't tell your secret, Malfoy, but you shouldn't be embarrassed. Nott was the one who lost out."

Graces just nodded her head and took a long standing sip of the wine. It was delicious, sweet and crisp with hints of raspberry and something more earthy. She stood there pondering over what must be giving the wine the earthy tone, rather than what Graham was getting at. Focusing on delicious wine and the cold breeze around her seemed like a better option.

"We never have talked much have we?" Graham noted, leaning against the table.

"You yell more often than talk," Graces said absently.

"I guess I do," Graham chuckled. "Though it would be nice if you stopped giving me reasons to yell at you during practice and the games."

"And take away all your fun? Never."

The two teammates had a bit of a laugh over the truth in Graces words for a moment before Graham turned and started pouring Graces another glass.

"I asked your brother after the game today if I could formally court you," Graham said, handing Graces the glass of wine. Graces eyes widened and she just held the wine glass, too afraid to take a sip out of fear her hands would tremble.

"What did he say?"

"Do you think I would be standing here now if he objected?" Graces looked down into her glass, and wished that Draco had done her the favor of saying no.

"I-I didn't realize you had feelings for me," Graces said quietly.

"I don't," Graham laughed. "Gods, Malfoy, I'm not ridiculous. This is the first real conversation I've ever had with you. I just enjoy having you on the team, and I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy kissing you." Graham fell silent for a moment, and gathered himself, before staring down into Graces' eyes seriously. "I would like to get to know you. I feel that if we knew one another we may find that we are a good match. What do you say?"

Graces bit her lip and absently fiddled with the necklace hanging around her neck. The necklace that Neville gave her.

"I-I can't. I'm so sorry, Graham. I just can't."

"Another bloke?"

Graces blushed, but grudgingly nodded.

"Ah... I take it Draco doesn't know?"

"He doesn't need to. I'm—I'm not dating or anything. It's just, well, a bit of a crush I suppose. Nothing serious."

"Serious enough to turn down a proper suitor though," Graham pointed out, smiling into his drink.

"I'm young. I have time to make such mistakes," Graces argued.

Graham grinned and took the bottle of wine off the table handing it over to Graces.

"Go be young then."

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"Is your brother ever coming back?" Pansy moaned, taking another swig from the bottle of wine.

"No, Pansy. He is never coming back. Both you and I are never going to see him again, because he has run off with Nott. They're probably starting a life together in the muggle world, and are going to adopt little tiny muggle children and werewolves." Graces giggled at her own humor, not caring when Pansy pushed her off the stomp she was sitting in.

"You're such a prat."

"I'm your best friend," Graces corrected in a tone of mock offense. "Though I don't know why I am when you are pushing me like this. If I hadn't just lost my brother I would never speak to you again."

"Yes you would," Pansy smirked. "Who would do your makeup or wash your hair now that your arm is useless? And while we are on the subject, who would help you into your clothes or—"

"Fine! Fine!" Graces shrieked. "You're a good friend."

"Sooo, Graham kissed you today... and then you two went and talked in the corner for a while."

"Oh, look Thomas is coming over!" Graces exclaimed.

"What are you talking about? He's not coming ov—"

"Thomas, darling, be a doll and help me up," Graces called.

Thomas looked over to where Graces and Pansy were giggling, and walked over shaking his head at the two girls.

"Y-you're d-d-drunk," Thomas pointed out, hoisting Graces up.

"I am," Graces acknowledged. "The question is why isn't Thomas drunk?"

"S-s-slur-ring a-nd s-s-stu-t-tering? N-not a g-g-ood c-combin-ati-tion."

"Hi Thomas." All three Slytherins looked over to see a third year Slytherin girl with long jet black hair, and emerald eyes batting her eyelashes over at Thomas as she walked by, her hips swinging to and fro, clearly meant to capture Thomas' attention.

Higgs raised both eyebrows in surprise at the flirtation and his eyes followed her until she was too far away to watch any longer without looking obvious. When Thomas turned back to the conversation he had a very pleasantly surprised look about him.

"Hi Thomas!" Graces and Pansy echoed, giggling wildly.

Thomas rolled his eyes and tried to pretend it was not a big deal.

"Well, she certainly has those child bearing hips you Higgs men enjoy so much," Pansy joked, looking at the girl with piqued interest. "Wendelin Arisanti, right? Not bad, Thomas. Small family, all dark, a few squibs here and there, but very respectable. What did Blaise call the Arisanti girls? Dark haired beauties."

"Aren't you going to go talk to her?" Graces prodded, taking another sip of her drink and frowning as the young boy gave her a pointed look. "Oh, Thomas, we all know about your speech impediment."

"Kn-know-wing a-and h-hear-ring are t-t-two d-diff-fferent th-th-things."

"Thomas, don't be ridiculous," Graces scolded. "You're powerful. Go play on that. Trust me, once she see's a bit of your wandless magic she won't care. Honestly, she doesn't seem to care now."

"Sh-she's n-never h-heard m-me s-s-speak."

"Go over there before I hex you," Graces continued, pushing her friend away. "I'm serious, go."

Thomas slowly began walking over, sending a backward glance to Graces as he did so. By the time he reached Wendelin though he had pulled himself together: standing at his full height with an air of confidence any pureblooded boy should have when addressing someone. Graces and Pansy both held their breath as Higgs bowed his head slightly in hello and graciously gestured over to the drinks silently offering to get her one.

"I suppose it wasn't Thomas that sent you that blouse," Pansy breathed, watching Thomas pour Wendelin a chocolate cauldron martini.

"I told you," Graces sang, standing on her toes to get a better view over the people dancing.

Everything seemed to be going well. Thomas had yet to speak, he seemed to be answering Wendelin's questions with bodily gestures. A nod here, shrug there, shake of the head, a gesture with his drink for her to answer the same question, but Graces knew it wouldn't be long. For a moment she wondered if this was a mistake. If Thomas' allure to the girl was mostly from the mystery associated with a handsome man that stayed silent.

She had her answer a few moments later. That question finally came up. It appeared Wendelin had finally asked Thomas something that he needed to speak to answer. Graces heart broke for Thomas as he tried to answer without stuttering. His silence had saved him so much embarrassment over the years. He had been able to keep his pride by putting away his voice. Now as he stuttered through, which sadly seemed to be a long explanation, Wendelin's impression of him was obviously changing, and Thomas was too observant to not notice the smile slipping from Wendelin's face and the awkwardness that had touched the way she stood with him.

_Come on, Thomas. Do something._ Graces inwardly pleaded, as Thomas shuffled from foot to foot and looked down at his shoes. Wendelin was looking around the clearing, and Graces could tell that she was now looking for an escape.

It was just as Wendelin opened her mouth to excuse herself, that Thomas finally got it together and leaned over on a tree and set his bottle of butterbeer down mid-air. The green-eyed girl's eyes widened considerably at the display of wandless and nonverbal magic before she turned to Thomas and began asking him question after question about his studies, clearly not bothered anymore that it took him some time to stutter through the answers.

Graces and Pansy both let out sighs of relief.

"We should stop staring," Graces recommended, though she continued on in watching Thomas' exchange with the girl.

"No way," Pansy emphasized. "I am not missing this."

"Graces."

"Draco!" Graces shrieked excitedly. "My Gods, what took you so long? You've missed most of the party. Everyone here is utterly pissed, minus Higgs," Graces added rolling her eyes, "And you're just getting back. What were you—"

Graces stopped talking when Pansy put a halting hand on her arm. At first she didn't understand what she was doing, and was about to bat her hand away, but Pansy tilted her eyes over to Draco again as though beseeching her to actually look at her brother, and Graces understood right away.

It was obvious something was wrong. Draco had a look to him that just signified bad news. If he were wearing an auror uniform, Graces would have immediately thought someone had died, and he had been sent to break her the news. His eyes had a sunken look about them, and his skin looked sheet white.

"Pansy, will you excuse us?" Graces whispered, not removing her eyes from her brother. Pansy nodded and quietly walked away giving Graces' hand a reassuring squeeze and bidding Draco good night before she departed.

"I have to go," Draco said quietly, his voice hoarse. "I need to work on my mission."

"Draco," Graces began, trying desperately hard to not sound frightened. "What's going on? Did he hurt you?"

"Graces, just enjoy the party. I have to go," Draco repeated, turning away to leave.

Graces wasn't having any of it though. She was not just going to let her brother scurry off with no explanation, not when he looked like a muggle who had seen a ghost.

"No," she snarled. "What's going on?"

"Graces, please," Draco begged. "Just stay here."

"No! What is going on? Why do you look frightened? Don't we still have the upper hand with Nott? Aren't we better able to defend ourselves. He can't touch us. You made sure of that, so why do you look—"

"Graces," Draco cautioned, taking his sister by her shoulders. "We do not have the upper hand anymore."

"Wh-what?"

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. Clearly not wanting to reveal the information he was about to tell her.

"He hurt mum."

Graces didn't understand those words. She had no idea what Draco just said. It must have been a spell, because her heart was now pounding in her chest and she could feel the blood in her veins pulsing.

"He hurt mum," Draco choked again slowly. "I was so stupid, Graces. I never thought... I was so concerned with protecting myself and you here, I forgot about mum. I thought she was safe and..." Draco trailed off, and took a few deep breathes to pull himself together.

"No. No no no, that couldn't happen," Graces denied shaking her head. "Our mother has prestige in that circle. He wouldn't dare touch our mother. Not after our father's service, not when her sister is his right hand. Nott lied to you, Draco. Our mother is safe. No one would dare—"

"The Dark Lord doesn't care. So long as his task isn't finished he doesn't care what Nott does to motivate me."

"Is-is she okay?" Graces choked, unable to hold back her tears.

"She's fine," Draco reassured. "You saw her today. This was done before today."

Graces nodded, and just continued to scrunch up her face trying not to cry. She didn't dare ask what Nott had done. It was cowardly, but she didn't want to know. She didn't want to have an image of her mother's torture illustrated in her head. This was not supposed to happen. Her mother was a respectable grown witch. She should not have been hurt by a teenage boy like this. There should have been ramifications to Nott's actions. If her father were here—

_Your father isn't here._

"I don't want you to think about this," Draco whispered, pulling Graces in and hugging her, not caring about her arm. "Continue on with the party, have a good time, but don't think for one second that we have the upper hand with Nott."

"I don't want to stay," Graces whimpered. "I want to go with you."

"I need to work on my mission, Graces," Draco said quietly. "Nott has been sending a log of my idle time to the Dark Lord. Whenever I'm not working on it he is informing on me. This needs my full attention. I can't even play Quidditch anymore. Graces, you have to remain busy. There has to be no doubt of your innocence. You need to always have an alibi. That way in case I fail you can pretend you knew nothing, that you had no way of knowing anything."

"Oh, so I'm just supposed to look like some silly girl that was too busy playing Quidditch and going to parties to notice that her brother was up to something," Graces cried, her body shaking from emotion.

"Yes."

The pair of them just stood there for a few moments, both taking in the weight of what was happening around them.

"Go have a few more drinks," Draco suggested tiredly. "Try to put your mind at ease, and go back to the castle when you are too far gone to think about everything."

Graces nodded mechanically and wiped away what was left of her tears as she watched her brother walk away from the clearing.

"Are you okay?" Pansy asked, putting a comforting arm over Graces who just shook her head.

"I need a drink."

"I'll go get you one," Pansy nodded.

Graces moved to stand against a tree on the edge of the surrounding. Everyone was seemingly having a good time. The music was loud, drinks were plenty, and the air was filled with chatter, and yet everything felt dull, dream-like even. Even the night stars seemed to have lost their luster.

"Here."

Graces turned and sluggishly took the drink. It was stiff. She imagined that Pansy put everything hard in this goblet and just mixed it. _Good, I would rather be dreaming than standing here feeling like I was._ With that thought the blonde tipped her head back and downed the whole goblet.

"Am I going to have to carry you to the castle?" Pansy asked, trying to make a joke out of the situation and failing miserable.

"No," Graces whispered hollowly. "I'm going to go back to the castle now."

"I'll come with you."

"No, I-I just want to be alone," Graces elaborated, already walking. "I'll see you later."

"Graces."

"I want to be _alone_ , Pansy," Graces snapped, losing her temper and hurrying along. "I will see you later."

Graces wept all along the trail in the forest. She allowed each tear to fall freely to the cold earth she was walking on. She didn't care anymore to be strong. Her mother was hurt. Draco was right in the palm of Nott's hand. And she was expected to just behave like nothing was happening. How was she supposed to do that?

_I can't. I can't do that. I can't._

Maybe it was the overwhelming feeling of emotion from all that she had learned in the past few hours, or maybe it was because she had a little too much, but either way she ended up against a tree being sick.

_I am never going to drink again._ Graces vowed silently, taking her handkerchief and wiping her lips. It was when she started walking again that she began to feel... funny.

A funny chill had crept up her spine, leaving her with this odd tingling sensation, and she felt as though her breathing was beginning to slow. She tried to shake it off and began moving faster, only to find herself stumbling over herself.

_I've been drugged,_ Graces thought, panicked. Vainly she tried to move forward, tried to ignore her heart rate slowing and her breathing becoming more and more shallow. Her body was falling asleep well before her mind was. It was as she fell against the ground and began crawling that she heard it. Footsteps. Someone was coming. She could hear them stomping through the snow.

She continued to try to stand, waiting for adrenaline to course through her and help her up, but it didn't come. Instead she fell hard to the ground as her legs completely gave out. She looked down at her hands, as her vision began to blur: raw and bloodied. _Please, no._ She begged to herself, as her eyelids began to close against her will and her cheek found the cold ground. _No. No. No._

She tried to scream as she felt someone hoist her up off the ground. In her mind she was screaming. She could feel the open air against her tongue and tried to make noise without knowing if she was succeeding or not. She was beyond drowsy. She was awake in her head, as her body slept, and the consciousness that she had was slipping away. She tried harder to make noise. With all the will that was left in her she tried harder to scream or to at least open her eyes. She must have made some sort of noise, because in her last few moments of consciousness she felt a hand cover her mouth to stifle any sounds she was making.

It wasn't that she wanted to give up. It was that her choice had been ripped away from her. Her body was under the spell of whatever potion was in that drink. Everything started to slip away. Scared and in the dark she focused on her steady heart beat, slowly thumping in her chest.

_Maybe this is best_ , Graces thought, darkness now intruding in her head. _I don't want to be awake for this._


	32. Chapter 32

Dawn. Dawn had come. Light graced the land again. Birds could be heard outside and life continued. Time had passed without her. Time had ticked away while she had been unconscious. It had only felt like a second, not even a full moment, just a second. Graces would have believed she had only fallen into the darkness of her mind a second ago if it had not been for the birds chirping.

Oh how they sang, excitedly announcing the new day that was bringing new beginnings. They sang of light and sun, of warmth and comfort, of food and love. They sang and sang and sang not caring for the horror that was surrounding them. Like her they had no idea of what happened. But unlike her they didn't have the brain to comprehend. Graces did.

She understood without knowing. And she hated the birds and their song in that moment, hated how they could sing and sing, hated how they were able to be lively and fly away, despised them for reminding her that time would go on. She would have to go on. She needed to open her eyes and face the realities around her, face what had happened to her.

It was too much. She couldn't, not this. She couldn't face this. She laid there longer, too afraid to open her eyes and see. She tried to will herself to go back to sleep so she could have a few more minutes of not having to know. But instead she became more awake. She came to realizations harder to swallow than just that of a new day. Nothing was tight around her chest or legs. She had been undressed. She was lying on something soft, a makeshift bed of hay judging by the way it felt and the smell around her.

Something had been thrown over her body. A blanket? Yes, something like that. Slowly she inched her hand over to her bare legs beginning to drag it up to where her underwear still remained. Her heart began to race as she came nearer. Her damn heart that had slowed the other night was now finally racing and pumping adrenaline into her hours too late. Her breathing quickened despite how she tried to keep it calm, and when she finally reached the thin cloth she choked on a sob unable to bring herself to move the bit of clothing over in order to be able to know for sure what had happened.

She knew she needed to be quiet. That there was a good chance she was still not alone, but she couldn't stop. She couldn't stop herself from sputtering sob after sob. She tightened her jaw and violently bit her lips together, but she couldn't keep herself silent. She couldn't breath any longer. She was crying too hard and trying too violently to not cry that she needed more air than her nostrils could intake. She needed to open her mouth to get air, but she couldn't do it. Because she knew the moment she allowed her lips to part she would scream. She would wail over those damn birds' songs and howl her sorrow and anger into the morning air.

Footsteps. Footsteps were rushing towards her and Graces, unable to keep it in any longer, opened her mouth and cried. He was here. He was here, and he was touching her again. He hoisted her up and was saying something, making her screams louder. She could scream now. He was aware she was awake, she could scream as loud as she wanted. So she did. She screamed and cried out into the morning like a wounded animal being tortured. She screamed as though she could make the sick sensation and hollowness in her chest erupt from her body, just like the noise filling the air.

Desperately, she began flailing her arms, trying her best to hit her assailant without actually opening her eyes to see. She couldn't bring herself to do that yet. She didn't want to know who had violated her, who had robbed her of what was hers, who had taken her body hostage. She swung her arms again and again, not caring if she was hitting him or not, just screaming to not be touched.

"I'm not touching you! I'm not touching you! Graces, please! You're hurting yourself, stop!"

_Neville?_

Graces opened her eyes to see Neville standing up in front of her. Clutching his nose as blood pooled between his fingers, down his arms, spilling over the kiss mark still on his wrist. When he realized she was no longer screaming, that her eyes were now open, he pulled his hands away, allowing his wounds from her to show freely.

"I think it's time you start telling me what exactly is going on," he said slowly, meeting her silver eyes evenly.

Graces didn't know what to say or even what to feel. It was Neville. Neville was the one standing in front of her. Neville was the one she had been hitting. His blood was the one trickling down on the floor. It was Neville. Did he find her? Did he happen to find her after... after...

Graces turned over and began being sick over the side of the hay. Neville immediately came over to her pulling her hair back, and rubbing her bare back, despite her begging him to leave her alone.

"It's okay, Graces" Neville comforted, ignoring her request to be left alone. "I have you. Everything is okay. It's all okay."

"EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY!" Graces screamed, her body heaving even though there was nothing left in her. "NOTHING WILL EVER BE OKAY AGAIN! HOW COULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT TO ME?"

"Graces." Graces didn't care what Neville had to say. She honestly never wanted to see him again. She felt sullied. She pushed him away from her, trying to look away as she continued to cry, demanding he leave her. "Graces, you're okay. You are. You're okay."

"I'm ruined," Graces moaned. "Defiled, tarnished, desecrated. Don't tell me I'm okay. Just leave me. Leave me where ever you found me and go."

Graces continued to just allow herself to break down. Neville was pulling her towards him again, but she just kept tearing away. It was just all too awful. She would have preferred her assailant there over Neville.

"You are not ruined, Graces. Nothing happened to you. I found you in the woods, just after you had passed out. Nothing happened to you. I've had you the whole night."

"No, someone took me," Graces muttered shaking her head. "They put their hand over my mouth to stop me from screaming. I remember. I remember, because I was trying so hard to stay awake. To see them. To—"

"That was me," Neville stressed, soothing Graces' hair down and holding the back of her head. "I heard stumbling in the woods, so I went out and started to look. Graces, I found you. I found you stumbling in the woods. By the time I reached you, you had fallen to the ground. I put my hand over your mouth when I heard someone else coming. I had to stop you from making noise so they wouldn't hear you."

"It-it was you?" Neville nodded slowly. "Then-then why am I undressed?"

"You were all cut up," Neville answered. "You had cuts all over your arms and legs, and thorns embedded in your skin. Not to mention your clothes were damp."

Graces looked down at her arms, they were covered in scrapes and scratches. And now that she thought of it her arm that had been injured during quidditch was burning from the inside. Her left leg felt sore, but she felt nothing in her right. She moved the old dingy quilt over and looked down at her legs. Both were scabbing over, and yet she didn't feel the right.

"I can't move my right leg," she whispered.

"What?" Neville was now looking over her leg, moving her left and tickling both. Her right had no reaction though.

Graces stared at her legs, replaying again and again a single memory in her head.

" _ **Add the powder. You don't have enough hellebore syrup for the potion; I need to get my vial out of my bag."**_

" _ **That is a sufficient amount," Nott asserted, placing the jar Graces handed him down.**_

" _ **No," Graces objected slowly, clearly at the edge of her patience. "It is not. This potion requires everything to be measured out and done perfectly. If not done correctly, there are any number of possible severe consequences. The Draught of Peace can place a person in a deep sleep; a possibly irreversible sleep," Graces stressed. "Too much of certain ingredients and too little of others is dangerous. Hellebore syrup is used in potions to treat paralysis, not using enough in this potion can cause the taker to become paralysed for a long period or permanently. The syrup is needed to cancel out some of the side effects of so much moonpowder.**_

" _ **Merlin, Nott, you should know this," she hissed. "Only using that much syrup can cause the drinker to be paralysed for hours! And not just certain areas, completely."**_

" _ **Graces," Nott began taking his face on a dark look, as he moved her hair away from her face. "Have I ever made a mistake in potions?"**_

" _ **No," Graces admitted quietly, taking a step back as something in the back of her mind told her she was in danger.**_

" _ **That's right. I think it is fair to say that, when it comes to potions, I know what I am doing," Nott bragged, something sinister etching along his face. "So if I am choosing to not put enough syrup it must be purposely."**_

_sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss_

"Come on, I'm taking you to Pomfrey," Neville declared, moving to lift her up and carry her.

"No, it will pass," Graces said hollowly, still looking down at her leg. "It will pass," she whispered.

"You don't know that, Graces."

"I do. I know that. It will pass. The Draught of Peace can place a person in a deep sleep; a possibly irreversible sleep. Hellebore syrup is used in potions to treat paralysis, not using enough in this potion can cause the taker to become paralysed for a long period or permanently. The syrup is needed to cancel out some of the side effects of so much moonpowder. This will pass."

Neville stared at Graces as she continued to mutter to herself about how this would all pass, and prattle on about potions as though in a trance. He wondered if she even realized she was talking out loud.

"He's never going to leave me alone," Graces breathed. "Never."

"Graces, you need to talk to me," Neville pleaded, wiping away some of the tears on her cheek. "You need to talk to me. Tell me what is going on. Who did this?"

"I can't."

"You can," Neville stressed. "Just tell me." Graces just shook her head and began rocking back and forth muttering again and again how she couldn't. Neville couldn't make sense out of half the things she was saying. One moment she was whispering about her brother, then the next she was babbling about her mother. The only thing that he understood, that made sense was her ending whimpers of 'I want my Daddy' repeated over and over again.

Neville, not having an idea on how to make such things better, pulled the blanket open and moved inside with Graces. He took her in his arms and slowly lay down to allow her to cry in the comfort of an embrace. He imagined they looked like a sight, Graces scratched, bruised, almost completely naked and sobbing into his bloodied shirt while he stared up at the barn roof with bloodshot eyes trying not to cry himself.

Neville closed his eyes and held the girl closer, the girl whom he loved. He had picked her up last night off the ground and spent hours trying to wake her up. She meant more to him than anything in this world and he had found her limp and unmoving on the ground. Now she was cradled against him like a child, crying for her father. Neville had thought he knew anger. He had been angry so many times before. He had felt that white iron that pierced your insides and made your blood boil with loathing before, but nothing compared to the feeling he had had when he found Graces. There was only one reason he knew to drug a pretty girl like this, and the reason alone made him see red.

He loved her, and he was unable to protect her from things too terrible to even say out loud. He had thought Draco would keep her safe. He didn't know what was going on, so he had relied on the people around her being able to protect her. It looked as though even the people around her were unable to prevent harm from coming to her.

"Graces, you need to tell me what's going on. Who did this?" he pleaded. "I can help you."

"No one can help me," Graces sniveled. "No one."

"I can help you," Neville swore, shaking Graces slightly to get her attention. "I can help you, Graces. I can. Just tell me who. Tell me what's going on."

"I should just give in," Graces groaned, not listening to Neville's pleas. "It wouldn't be nearly as bad then. Maybe he won't want me after. At least it would be my choice. Anything is better than this."

Neville flanked for a moment as he tried to piece together what Graces was saying.

"You can't mean that," he whispered. "Graces, you can't mean that," he said more forcefully, sitting up and staring down at her.

"You don't understand," Graces weeped. "You could never understand. I have no choice."

"You do have a choice!" Neville snapped. "Tell me what is going on so I can help you."

"You can't. You can't. I should just get it over with and be done."

Neville never imagined he would hear something like this come from Graces' mouth. What she was suggesting was the most sickening thing he had ever heard. It was unbearable for him to even comprehend.

"I won't let you," he swore evenly.

"It's not your choice," Graces hissed, wiping away some of her tears. "I am not your girlfriend, Longbottom. I am not yours, and you have no say in this."

"Don't. Don't you dare talk to me like that. I have never objectified you like that. I am not some child who doesn't want to share a toy. If you wanted to sleep with someone else, I wouldn't say a thing, but you don't. You don't want to do this, and I am not going to let you slowly kill your soul."

"You Gryffindors love to be the hero," Graces scoffed, taking a shaking breath "You love to come riding in and save the damsels in distress. Well, I have news for you, Longbottom. I am no damsel, I am damned. And you can't save the damned."

Neville stared at Graces for a moment before leaning down so that his nose was almost touching hers and placed his hand on her face.

"Then what's salvation for?" He challenged, never wavering his eyes from hers'. "I can help you, Graces. I can. I just need you to talk to me."

Graces looked down for a moment and seemed to be turning over that possibility in her head. He could see that she was still unsure, that she didn't fully believe he could help her, but she wasn't writing it off.

"If you don't talk, I can't help you," Neville cautioned. "I want to help you, Graces. I truly believe if you told me what was going on I could."

"You would just want to go to Dumbledore, or someone," Graces frowned, already reverting back.

"If that isn't an option, I won't. Is it not an option?' Graces sniffed and shook her head solemnly. "Okay, then. Why is it not an option?"

"It just isn't," Graces whispered.

"Graces, you need to talk to me," Neville growled, starting to lose his patience. "If you don't I'm just going to go and tell someone. I'm not going to sit back and do nothing. So you can either tell me and I will find a solution that works with you, or I'll go to Dumbledore."

"You can't!" Graces exclaimed. "You can't betray me, you—"

"Betray you? How is telling one of the most powerful wizards in the wizarding world that you were, that you were-—oh, gods—that you were almost raped, and begging him to investigate it betraying you?" Neville asserted, looking at Graces as though she had lost her mind. "I'm not the smartest of blokes, Graces. I'll concede to that, but telling Dumbledore seems like the smart decision here, or telling any adult for that matter."

"If you tell anyone, I'll hate you," Graces swore, gritting her teeth at him. "I'll curse your name for the rest of my life. I will never forgive you."

"I could live with that," Neville stated calmly. It hurt. It hurt to hear Graces say that, and it hurt to think of loving her while she hated him, but given the options Neville would rather she hate him than allow her to become someone's plaything. He would rather she be safe and valued than that. He was done not being in the loop about what was going on with Graces. He was done relying on Draco to be the one to take care of her. He loved her. She wasn't just some girl he fancied or someone he wanted to know better. He loved her. He loved her and he was not going to be the kind of man that loved a woman and put little effort into protecting her.

"Why are you doing this?" Graces whispered, looking at Neville as though he were the one torturing her.

_Because I love you._ "Because I care about you."

"If you care, if you really care about me, Longbottom, you won't say a word."

"Don't you want to know who did this to you?" Neville exclaimed gesturing to her leg.

"I know who did this to me," Graces said evenly, glaring up at Neville. "And because I know who did this to me, I am aware going to anyone will only hurt me and my family more."

"Then you better tell me," Neville demanded. "Because if you don't tell me I am going to tell, Graces. I can't just not know. So you have two options here. Tell me and I will protect you within the bounds you allow me, or don't tell me and I am going straight to Dumbledore."

"Are you threatening me?" Graces growled, something sinister starting to brew behind the gray clouds in her eyes.

"I am promising you."

"I could kill you," Graces threatened, shaking like a leaf. "I could kill you and make it so you are never found. Are you sure you want to continue putting me in a corner, Longbottom?"

There was a pregnant silence following Graces' words. Graces glared at Neville, a turmoil of hate raging in each breath, and Neville stared back at her noticing how much she resembled her father. A small shiver went down his back as he remembered her father's wand pointed at him as he discussed how his grandmother was used to losing family members. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and took out her wand. Placing it firmly in her hand.

"Then do it," he challenged. "Because those are your options."

Neville moved his hands away from the blonde's and placed them apart opening his chest to whatever Graces chose to do. He watched as her hand slumped and shook. He knew that she could very well do it, that in many ways she probably thought she needed to, but he also knew that she didn't want to.

"It's my family's safety," Graces hiccupped. "You have no idea what an investigation would do. It would kill us all."

"Then kill me or tell me," Neville voiced, glad that he sounded strong.

"You don't want to know, Longbottom," Graces whispered, closing her eyes a few tears fell. "If you knew you would have to tell, and when you tell—" Graces gritted her teeth and shook her head, obviously having difficulty discussing this. "When you tell, my family will be in the same position."

"I will not tell," Neville swore. "What do I have to do to convince you that you can trust me? Do you want an unbreakable vow?"

"No," Graces croaked. "If you made that you would die."

"And yet, here you are with a wand pointed at my heart."

"Please, just drop this," Graces heaved. "Please."

"Graces," Neville said gently, reaching over and taking her free hand. "I want to help you. I want to be there for you. I want to protect you, but I can't do any of that if I am in the dark. I need to know what is going on. I swear I won't tell anyone anything. You can trust me. Graces, open your eyes and look at me. You can trust me."

"Your loyalties are to the light, to Potter, to—"

"My loyalties are to those I—" Neville stopped himself and took a deep breath. "My loyalties are not to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I would never be a Death Eater, but I also would never allow anyone to harm an innocent girl."

"I'm not innocent," Graces pointed out, shaking her head.

"This war is not your fault, Graces. Your situation is not your fault. If it's anyone's fault it's your father's. And I won't let you be punished for his mistakes."

"And what of Draco and my mum?"

"I am not going to take away the only people that you have. Graces, please trust me."

Neville didn't realize how nervous he had been, until Graces lowered her wand.

"Ar-are you going to tell me?"

"I don't really have a choice do I?" Graces pointed out, still crying. "I can't kill you, and I can't let you go to Dumbledore or anyone, so I have to trust you. I don't have another option."

"Well, technically, you could kill me," Neville deadpanned.

Graces looked up at him for a moment, and it was in that moment that Neville realized it had all be a ruse. She was never going to kill him. She had just wanted to scare him.

"You were never going to kill me," Neville frowned. "Well, that's a change."

"You're my friend," Graces shrugged. "Killing you would be like killing Pansy."

Neville just nodded, and tried his best not to smile. Graces had once said she would kill him with no hesitation if he were a threat to her brother, and now she not only hesitated but couldn't. She had also mentioned that he wasn't a friend to her like Pansy, but she had just placed him and Pansy in the same category. It was a celebratory moment, but it was just a bad time for the moment.

"You can't unknow something, Longbottom," Graces warned, blinking back more determined tears. "Once you know, you know. Trust me, being in the dark is better than being in the light sometimes."

"You were drugged, Graces. You were drugged with what I can only presume to be a dangerous potion, judging by your leg. You were drugged with a dangerous poison so someone could force himself on you. Now, I'm not too daft to realize who it must have been. I am sure that it was Nott. And I am sure it was him because he is the only person I have seen you cower before. I didn't push after the potion incident because you were determined to keep it from me. You said that you would tell Draco and that the situation would be taken care of, and instead it appears to have escalated." Neville leaned back and stared up to the heavens. "I don't understand anything, Graces. Do you know how difficult it is for me to be in the dark like this? All night I watched you and wondered if anything else like this has happened to you before. Do you have any idea how many scenarios have run through my head? Was the bruise on your back the other week really from a bludger during practice or was someone hurting you and you just were keeping it from me? I can't be in the dark anymore. I have to know. Why are you so scared of Nott?"

"It's a long story," Graces said, her voice thick with emotion. "He basically has the upper hand on our family. We have to bend to his will."

"Why?" Neville pressed.

"It's complicated."

"I have time."

"I have to tell you don't I?" Graces choked, pulling her legs up and shielding herself. Neville just nodded sadly and waited. He had won. He was finally going to know what was going on, but it came at a price. Graces didn't want him to have this information. She didn't trust him with it, he had bullied her into giving it.

Neville wished it could have been different. He wished that they had the time to wait, but they didn't. He needed to protect her now, and he couldn't wait however long it would take to gain her trust completely. He hated that he had won. He hated watching her blankly stare at a point in the wall, defeated. He hated knowing that he was the one causing her pain.

_You're going to cause her less pain in the future. You have to do what's best, and that isn't always easy._

"My father made a lot of enemies," Graces muttered hollowly, "Before it never mattered. No one would ever dare go against Lucius Malfoy, the Dark Lord's right hand man. My father ensured that his name would act as a shield to his family. The sound of his name alone

would place such fear into the hearts of his enemies that they wouldn't dare touch a hair on any of our heads. And like a child, I believed that my God could never fall. Now, he's gone and the Dark Lord no longer favors him. And I'm scared, because I know that if given the chance his enemies will hurt him the only way they can. Take away a man's children and you have truly killed him. Draco, being the heir, took up this burden."

"My brother is now the head of our family. But as you can imagine Draco doesn't wield the same kind of fear my father did. Especially after the Dark Lord punished him in front of his followers."

"It was horrible," Graces whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek, "hearing Draco screaming like that, watching him twist and squirm on the floor like a worm and cry after like a child." Graces closed her eyes, as though she was closing them to what happened. "I was next," Graces choked. "I was next. He called me to come forward, and-and I was so scared—I couldn't move. I-I had never known pain a day in my life. I just stood there clutching my mother's hand crying and shaking my head."

"Then someone grabbed my arm and started pulling me forward. Oh, Gods, I was a coward. I hadn't even been hurt and I was screaming. Then Draco pulled himself as much as he could off the ground and said he would take the punishment. He said he was the patriarch and that if anyone should be punished for our father's failures it was him."

"I tried to take it back," Graces groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "I did. I tried to take it back. If I had known—If I had known Draco would volunteer to be tortured in my place I would have tried harder to not scream. I was so stupid. I was such a stupid, silly girl."

"Graces, that is not your fault. You reacted exactly like anyone else would. You—"

"That's not true and you know it," Graces hissed. "You took it. My father cruciated you and you didn't beg for mercy. You demanded it over Harry handing over the prophecy. You can't make me feel better for allowing my brother to be tortured in my place. You can't. You're the last one who could make me feel better for it."

Neville wanted to argue, but he stopped himself. She was right. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel better about that day. She had to watch her brother be tortured for her. Graces was not a Gryffindor, but she was also not a coward. So having a momentary lapse of cowardice forever burned into her memory by her brother's screams must be hard. Begrudgingly he nodded and waited for her to continue.

"We were living in constant fear after that. After the Dark Lord punished Draco it was pretty obvious that he didn't care for what happened to us. Nott took the mark and it earned him the same place in the Dark Lord's circle as his father. He had protection under that brand. No one would dare take away someone who belonged to the most powerful Dark wizard in our world."

Graces looked up at Neville and it was clear that this was the part she was scared to tell him.

"Draco took the dark mark next," she whispered, staring at Neville for his reaction. "Our mother tried to prevent it. She did, but Draco wouldn't listen to her. He wouldn't listen to any of us. And my aunt kept insisting it was for the best," Graces added bitterly.

"The thing is, though, it didn't work out for Draco the way it did for Nott. It seemed that the Dark Lord still harbored a lot of resentment and blame towards our father. Resentment and blame that has followed Draco." Graces was now crying again, and Neville couldn't even move to comfort her. It was all so surreal, so much worse than he expected. Draco was a Death Eater. Her family was that entangled in Voldemort's following. "The Dark Lord has given Draco a task that will almost certainly get him killed. It's the ultimate punishment to our father. He is going to let Draco be killed and slaughter the rest of us after. And he has placed Nott in charge of watching us."

"What's the task?" Neville breathed, feeling light headed.

"I think I've told you enough," Graces rasped.

"Is-is it to-to kill Harry?"

"No, the Dark Lord wants to kill Potter himself. He's safe from Draco."

"But what—"

"Longbottom, I cannot tell you anymore!" Graces screamed, her face red and wet from all her crying.

"Draco's a Death Eater," Neville murmured, still unable to believe it. "An actual Death Eater, marked and all. Bloody hell. Harry was right. He was right the whole time. No one wants to believe him, but he was right. And that's why you can't go to anyone. That's why you have to fear Nott, you all really are under his thumb. Oh gods."

"Oh my gods and goddess, you're going to tell," Graces moaned, placing her head back in her knees. "You're going to tell. We're dead. We're all dead. It's all my fault."

Neville watched as Graces shook from her tears, struggling with each breath, as she continued to repeat over and over again that they were going to die, that it was her fault, that it was over. He shook his head and waited for the ringing in his ears to stop. It was one thing to know that they planned on being Death Eaters, but knowing Draco was now...

Neville pulled Graces arms away from her and lifted her head up to face him, ignoring that the girl was doing everything to not look at him.

"Graces. Graces, look at me. Graces, please."

If anything Graces reaction just became worse. Her breathing had now become so erratic that Neville was sure she was about to pass out. Not knowing what else to do he pushed her down and kissed her.

Graces immediately stopped crying and just stared at him as he braced himself on top of her.

"I am not going to tell," he said evenly. "I need a day, okay?" Graces nodded slowly. "Tomorrow, I want you to meet me in the classroom. Will Nott try to do this again before then? Good. I have a solution to Nott trying to take advantage of you, but I need a day."

Graces just stared up at him, her dewy skin and watered eyes glistening in the early light.

"You really won't tell?" she asked in obvious disbelief.

"No, I won't," Neville repeated, getting up and gathering his things. "We can discuss that later. I can't talk about it now. I-I just need to process all this."

And he did. He did need to process all this. Draco was a Death Eater. The brother of the girl he was in love with was a Death Eater. Neville couldn't even start to process what all that meant. Graces loved Draco unconditionally. She loved him more than anything in this world. She talked about him constantly. He was a package deal with her, and he was a Death Eater. Up until a few months ago they were basically the same person in his mind; Draco and Graces Malfoy, not Draco Malfoy and Graces Malfoy, and now this. Her other half was—

"Longbottom?" Neville stopped at the door, he didn't turn around to face her, but he stopped. "Why were you here? I mean-why were you waiting by the woods?"

Neville glanced over at his wrist that still had the lip stain on it. It was faded, and now covered in his dried blood, but still there. He had stared at that little mark all night wanting nothing else but to have Graces in his arms again. It drove him insane with need.

"I couldn't stop thinking of you," he said quietly, turning around and lifting his wrist. "I was hoping to catch you coming back to the castle. Thought maybe we could end the night together."

Graces just nodded sadly and looked down at her hands.

"Do you need anything? Or are you okay to get back to the castle alone?"

"I'm fine," she said hollowly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Neville repeated, leaving the barn.


	33. Chapter 33

Hermione knew something was going on with Neville. He was different this year. Yes, the difference was positive. He seemed more happy, more outspoken, was more driven and seemed to be spending more time on his personal appearance, but she was starting to wonder if these changes in him were being made for the right reasons.

She had watched Neville all through the quidditch game. He had not once taken his eyes off Graces. He would move his head this way and that, but his eyes always trailed to her. And when he cheered it seemed as though he was sincere, like he really was happy when she saved this goal and that. Neville was like every other male in that he enjoyed a good quidditch match, so she hadn't thought too much of him cheering until she realized that no guy wants to see his team losing, but Neville apparently did. He wanted Graces to win. Regardless of the bet, he shouldn't have wanted that to happen.

Then there was finding them in the room together. They weren't doing anything, but they were together alone. And Neville had given Graces that gold without any real hesitation...

"Hey, Neville," Hermione greeted as the center of her thoughts descended the stairs.

"Oh, hi Hermione," Neville greeted somberly, walking over to the portal to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"Owlery."

"What for?"

"To write a letter," Neville grumbled.

Hermione blushed and before she could say another word Neville had left.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said casually, rummaging through his parchment looking for some notes. "He's been a bit out of sorts this morning. It happens sometimes."

"You don't think that's odd?"

"Not really," Harry murmured distractedly. "We all have those moods. I know Ron and I certainly have them often enough. I'm not going to chastise Nev for them. He'll come around, he just seems to want space today."

"Did he ever have moods like this before this year?"

"No, but he's grown a lot this year. Doesn't just go with things he dislikes because he doesn't want to stir things up."

"I'm going to go talk to him," Hermione decided standing up.

"I really think you should just leave him be," Harry sighed, knowing full well Hermione was not going to do as he suggested.

"I'll be back," Hermione promised, completely ignoring his advice.

All the way up to the owlery Hermione thought about how she was going to approach the subject of Graces with Neville. Should she subtly tip-toe around the question or just ask? And even then could she trust whatever Neville told her? He could very well lie to her about his feelings towards Graces. Then what would she do?

 _Subtle_ , she decided opening the door to the owlery and looking over at Neville who was currently hunched over a dirty desk writing. Hermione peeked over and saw it was a letter to Gringotts before Neville saw her and moved his arm to cover it.

"Hi," she said pleasantly, trying her best to not seem at all suspicious.

"Hi."

Hermione cleared her throat and began walking among the school birds looking at this one and that. She knew Neville was watching her suspiciously, and she was beginning to regret being there at all now.

"Who are you writing a letter to?" she asked, petting an old barn owl gently.

"My gran."

_He's lying. Why is he lying?_

"Oh? How is she?"

"I'm assuming fine," Neville clipped, not making any movement to continue with his letter. Hermione nodded, and began walking around the owlery again. "Are you sending a letter?"

"Uh.. yes. Yes I am. I just need to write it," Hermione pinked, realizing that Neville was more astute than she had anticipated. "I was going to write a letter to my dad. I read the most interesting thing about teeth whitening spells. After yours were done, I became curious, and my father is a dentist so I thought I would tell him about it."

"That owl there is good," Neville gestured. "Makes it to my gran's in a day. He should be able to take your letter no problem."

Hermione nodded nervously, and took down the owl. Taking a seat opposite of Neville, which he clearly did not appreciate.

"You didn't bring parchment, quills or an envelope," Neville noted, looking around Hermione.

"Oh, I—uh—must have forgot. I was just so excited to write him," Hermione laughed nervously. "Can I borrow some of yours?"

Hermione never knew Neville could look so callous, but as she waited for his reply a chill went down her spine as he glared at her. Slowly he reached down to his bag and pulled out some parchment and a quill with one hand, never moving his other arm or eyes away from her. He had just held the supplies out to her when one of the bigger owls swooped down and scratched his bare hand.

"Loki!" Neville damned, dropping all the stuff, and cradling his bleeding hand. "What is wrong with you?"

"That's Malfoy's owl isn't it?" Hermione asked, grateful for the sudden shift in atmosphere, and also that Neville was no longer covering his bank note. It didn't say much, he hadn't finished filling it out, but it appeared Neville was requesting an item out of his personal vault.

"Yeah it is," Neville muttered bitterly. "He hates me."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I haven't a clue," the sandy haired boy sighed examining the gash. "Like owner like bird I suppose."

"Here, let me heal it," Hermione offered.

Neville nodded and put his hand forth no longer looking cross. He watched as she cleaned it out, and started to heal it slowly, and seemed genuinely interested in the process.

"Does the bird always hurt you?" she asked casually, hoping to make small talk that would lead into her questions.

"Yeah, most of the time."

"Do you think Malfoy ordered it to?"

"Hard to tell. I think it just saw how happy it made him the first time he attacked me and just continues it, but I wouldn't rule out that the bird was instructed to do so."

"Neville, can I ask you something?"

Neville broke his eyes away from his hand and glanced at her for a moment.

"Okay," he said cautiously.

"Do-do you think Malfoy is pretty?"

"Sure, he's a handsome fellow I suppose," Neville nodded, obviously trying to make it out as though he hadn't even thought about Graces.

"You know I meant Graces," Hermione bit out, looking Neville dead in the eye.

"It's hard not to notice," Neville mumbled defensively.

"But... but she's so-so vile," Hermione scowled. Neville didn't say anything, he just shook his head and looked away frustrated. "Jesus, Neville, you actually fancy her don't you?"

"She's pretty, Hermione, give me a break. I'm sure I'm not the only bloke that feels that way."

"You were the only bloke that looked disheartened when the captain of the Slytherin team kissed her."

"It's, it's just a—well—a crush," Neville admitted brightening red. "It doesn't mean anything and—"

"A crush?" Hermione hissed. "On Malfoy? Neville, what is wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong with me," Neville declared, ripping his hand away. "She's a stunningly beautiful girl, I think that it could be argued that something would be wrong with me for not noticing."

"Neville! You cannot have a crush on Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked.

"Will you please keep her voice down," Neville growled, looking around to make sure no one had overheard. "It's just a silly crush, Hermione. It doesn't mean anything. Hell, I had a crush on you 4th year."

"You—you did?" Hermione squeaked.

"Yeah, I did. One of the reasons I asked you to the Yule Ball," Neville spat.

"I, uh, didn't know that," Hermione blushed.

"I asked you to the ball," Neville pointed out irritatedly. "I think that's a pretty fair indication that I was interested in you."

Hermione nervously looked away and worried her lip. She really hadn't treated Neville gently when he had asked her. She had just said that she already had a date and skipped off to the library. She wondered if it bothered him, she knew it bothered Ron, but Neville had been nothing but kind about the ordeal. She hadn't even realized that it may have hurt him to be drinking punch at the ball with Victor and her.

"It was just a crush, Hermione. It didn't mean anything; like I said, crushes don't mean anything."

"Is... is your crush on Graces not a big deal?" Neville nodded, but Hermione knew she saw something else in his face as he said it wasn't. Neville was a poor liar. He became nervous and his eyes shifted, not to mention he stumbled over his own tongue when he lied. "You don't think it's kind of twisted to like her? I mean it's like fancying Bellatrix Lestrange."

"It is not!"

"Neville, she even favors her in some ways. Look at her cheeks, her chin, the shape of—" Hermione abruptly stopped her list when she saw the sandy haired boy had moved to loom over her.

"It's a silly pathetic crush, Hermione. I don't need you making me feel dirty about enjoying her features. She's a handsome girl."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Help? Help?" Neville echoed, befuddled by Hermione's statement. "Hermione, how in Merlin's name is that helpful?"

"Maybe if you associated her with Lestrange then you wouldn't find her so appealing anymore."

"She's not Lestrange," Neville muttered. "She's not."

"She is Lucius Malfoy's daughter though!" Hermione continued. "And you cannot deny that resemblance, Neville. She favors her father, in more ways than looks. Christ, Neville, she looks like the man that cruciated and tried to kill you. It's sick, and that's without mentioning Draco."

"Fine, I'm sick, is that what you want to hear?" Neville choked, standing up and gesturing to himself in disgust. "I'm sick and perverted. I think about a girl who resembles the people who have hurt me and my family the most. I want to kiss and hold a girl whose aunt orphaned me. I want to take to bed the twin of the guy that beats me bloody any chance he gets. I want Graces Malfoy more than I've ever wanted anything else in the world."

"I'm an idiot and a fool. I want her and I know full well it will never happen. Even if by some miracle she loved me nothing would come of it," Neville cried, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and squinting violently to stop himself from crying openly. "I'm so stupid. I really thought maybe it could happen. I really did. I thought maybe if she saw what a nice guy I was, or if I was more ambitious she would see me, really see me, start thinking of me in a different light and not as some blood traitor that is always fucking up in class. But it doesn't matter if she did start thinking of me that way does it? It never could have been, I was just too naive to realize it."

Hermione stared wide eyed at the boy in front of her. She had never seen Neville behave like this, like the world was coming to an end, like he was breaking under pressure. He was having a complete meltdown, and all she could do was sit there staring at him. None of it made sense. None of it.

"I-I don't understand," she whispered. "How-how could you feel so strongly about her?"

"I don't know," Neville moaned. "I don't know, but I do. Doesn't matter how cruel she is to me, how much she ignores me, how frustrating she is. I like her. Hell she's stabbed and threatened to kill me and I still can't get myself to keep away from her."

"She stabbed you?!" Hermione exclaimed. "Neville, you—"

"Will you just leave me alone about it?" Neville snarled. "You got your answer, isn't that enough? Now you know. I fancy Graces Malfoy and I have no shot in hell of anything coming from it."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. This was all a lot more than she expected.

"I can't talk about this right now," Neville sniffed, picking up his letter and violently finishing it before shoving it in an envelope and starting to tie it to an owl. Hermione stared glued to the spot as he furiously wiped his red eyes, and fumbled with the string. "I have more important things to attend to. I have people relying on me now, and I don't have the time or energy to stand here with you crying about my feelings."

"Neville," Hermione called, trying to stop him from leaving.

"I don't need to be reminded about who she is, Hermione. I don't, so bugger off and leave me alone," Neville barked, slamming the owlery door as he left.

Hermione stood there in the owlery, a mix of dust and feathers floating around her. She took a step to follow him. Neville was obviously seriously upset, and she didn't feel right just leaving things like that between them, especially because it was her that unraveled him so. But the one step was all she was allowed.

Harry came in the owlery next, a look of disapproval taught on his face.

"I just passed Neville," he informed.

"I-I didn't mean to upset him I just—"

"Hermione, I know you mean well. I do, you have a heart of gold or whatever, but you need to stop. You need to lay off Neville."

"Harry, he—"

"If Neville wanted me to know he would tell me," Harry cut in. "I think Neville has had his personal life disclosed to other people enough. If he wants me to know something he will tell me."

Hermione just nodded and let the issue drop. Everything Harry was saying made sense; the discussion she had with Neville didn't, but what Harry was saying did. She did want to know more about Neville's "crush" on Graces. She felt like there were things she was missing, like the stabbing, the threatening, why he was so insistent on caring for her, but she realized she had hit a wall with Neville on all that. He was not going to talk to her about his feelings for Graces. In fact, she wondered if he was going to talk to her at all now.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," she breathed, swallowing all the things she wanted to say.

"I am," Harry said gently. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Hermione followed Harry out of the owlery, still not completely convinced she should do nothing, but unsure of what else to do if Neville didn't want to talk to her. It was as they passed the library that she had an idea, an idea she hoped would help Neville later.

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Neville never believed that he could have his heart pounding so violently in his chest while the world seemed to move in slow motion around him. It was too much. It all was too much. Violently he pulled at his tie trying desperately to gain some air. He knew he was panicking, but he couldn't seem to get himself under control.

Graces' brother was a Death Eater. Hermione was suspicious. Nott was a threat. Graces was giving up on fighting him. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had wanted to cruciate her. He was the patriarch. Draco was her patriarch. Draco was a Death Eater. He, Neville, was lying to his family, his friends. Graces was lying to her family and friends. He helped lock up her father. Her aunt tortured his parents. Her father tortured him. They could never be together. Her twin was a Death Eater. He loved her.

_I can't breathe._

The last thing Neville wanted was for anyone to see him like this. Panicked, sweaty and on the verge of passing out he barreled into the nearest classroom he saw. He tore off his clothes as a prickling heat spread on his skin. But even with his shirt and trousers off the heat didn't leave, and the air didn't come into his lungs. Neville could now hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and his head was pulsing from the rush of blood.

 _I need to calm down. I need to calm down,_ he repeated to himself over and over again as he dropped to his hands and knees on the floor. He tried to breath correctly: in through the nose, out through the mouth in deep breaths, but with every intake it didn't become better. He was just taking in shaking breaths and crying, crying alone on his hands and knees on the cold floor.

Neville expected this to happen, but not like this. He expected to feel this way after Graces broke it off with him, after he poured his heart out to her and she threw it back. He could never have imagined feeling this way before that happened. Now he did though. Draco was a Death Eater. How could he want to be with a girl whose brother was a Death Eater? Hermione was right. It was sick.

And yet, he still loved her. Despite how sick and torn he felt about who she was and who her family was. He still felt something warm resonating in his chest for her. If he separated her out from her family, he was deeply in love with the Graces.

_But you can't separate her from her family. Blood is blood._

_Blood is meaningless. It's like how purebloods look at Hermione. It's—_

_It's not meaningless to her._

Neville groaned and turned over to lie on his back, covering his face with his hands. He could not even begin to disassemble his thoughts from one another. He wasn't able to process one single thought about his situation. If he thought about how he loved her, he thought of how he hated her aunt. If he tried to focus on how sweet she was, he was immediately thrown into thinking about how callous and cruel she could be, which then turned into him thinking of her father. If he thought of her father he thought of tea parties and how Lucius Malfoy was responsible for raising the woman he loved. And when he thought of that he felt sick, because he loved Graces who was raised by an evil, sadistic man. _What does that say about me?_

He laid there for a while and tried to think about that. He had once heard that people accept the love they feel they deserved. Did he feel that he deserved to be loved by a—

_No. She's wonderful. I'm not in love with some evil sadist. I'm in love with a sugar addicted, stubborn, Shakespeare loving, curious, frustrating, childish, plant killing, brilliant woman. I just need to clear my head and think._

The problem was Neville couldn't think. Too many things kept on swirling in his head that wouldn't allow him to. Even if he had a pensieve he couldn't remove any of his thoughts. It all was connected. He couldn't look at Graces without having her attached to her family. It was impossible to separate the two. It was like separating a flower from its roots. It was beautiful to look at, but it wouldn't remain. It would die with time. Separating it was only to enjoy it temporarily, and he couldn't look at Graces as just that. Not to mention her roots were so deeply ingrained into the soil that separating her from them would mean tearing her apart.

Neville could feel panic edging up on him again and decided that he should try to do something soothing as he continued on his thoughts.

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 _He is not going to tell_ , Graces reminded herself for the millionth time that evening as she sat in the abandoned classroom fiddling with the end wrappers of a candy bar. It had been a long day to say the least. First off, telling Longbottom yesterday she was fine to make it to the castle on her own was a mistake. After the initial shock and adrenaline had come down she had discovered that she had re-torn her arm which made getting dressed problematic. To add to her arm, her leg hadn't fully regained all function. It had hurt to get dressed, but she had managed. Biting her cheek against the pain and inwardly cursing Nott, she finally had managed to hobble over to the hospital wing though.

Graces was never more thankful for Pomfrey's discretion. She had originally tried to play it off as though she had tripped, sprained her ankle and re-torn her arm, but when the medi-witch checked her leg it was clear that without a sprain her story was moot. Partial paralysis wasn't the easiest thing to hide. She had for a moment thought that the medi-witch was for sure going to demand to know what had happened, but Pomfrey didn't. She simply told her to get some rest and said she could leave in the afternoon.

From then on her day had been filled with wondering about Neville. Why he wasn't going to tell, what his plan was to protect her, if she could truly take help offered by him and why he didn't seem able to look at her any longer...

She had passed him leaving the hospital wing. At first she didn't think much of it, and even started walking towards him, they were alone in a hall, it wasn't uncommon for them to take such moments to their advantage and talk. But as she drew nearer she realized something was very wrong. Neville's eyes were bloodshot, and not just from lack of sleep, his skin was glistening with a mixture of sweat and tears and his breathing seemed to be erratic. And that was without mentioning the way he looked at her when he saw her approaching.

Neville had for months always looked at her with warmth and excitement when she approached him. He was always happy to see her. Even when he was not able to outwardly show it, his eyes danced with elation at her presence. But yesterday they didn't. He had looked at her in a way that told her that she was the last person he wanted to see. So she stopped in her approach and looked away as he hurried by her to head to the greenhouse.

The rest of her walk to her common room had been like a dream. So much had happened in such a short span of time that now her head was just spinning from it all. Part of her knew that she should take the time to sit and think it all out, but she couldn't seem to find the strength in her to do it. So she decided to just go to the dungeons and sleep the day and night away until she could see Neville. Draco hadn't even checked on her, which meant that he was busy trying to get everything ready for his task. She tried not to think on that too much either. It did no good for her to dwell on matters she had no control over anyways.

 _What good is magic if you're still powerless,_ she thought bitterly, taking in a deep breath. She all of a sudden felt very tired which was insane considering she had spent all of yesterday and this morning in bed. The thought occurred to her to lay down on the desk and rest her eyes, but she quickly dismissed it. She did not want to be asleep when Neville entered. She wanted to have her wits about her. She was not sure what that look the other day meant, but it wasn't good, especially considering how Neville had skipped classes that day.

Graces was awoken from her morbid thoughts as the door to the classroom opened. Neville glanced up at her for a moment before looking away and walking into the room. Graces stared at the sandy haired boy as he took a chair and sat it down across the table from her. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was pale. He was unshaven which might have looked nice if the rest of him wasn't equally a mess.

"Why won't you say my name?"

Graces blanked, that was not the question she had been expecting. That seemed so trivial now.

"I-I don't understand," she breathed, her silver eyes staring forward curiously.

"I want to know," Neville continued slowly, raising his eyes to meet hers. "Why you refuse to say my given name?"

There was a long silence that filled the room, a silence only incomplete by the the sound of Graces breathing. It was a strange question and yet it wasn't. She sat there trying to decipher where to even start, if she should start.

"A given name is an awfully intimate thing if you think about it," she began slowly, trying very hard to maintain Neville's stare. "It's in many ways your parents hopes and dreams for you, not just as a member of the family, but as an individual."

"I was originally going to be named Trivia Bellatrix Malfoy going along with both my mother and father's family naming traditions, a child whose name and birth was a product of two great houses joining. They, as you can see, did name Draco that way, but the labor of childbirth was hard on my mother and she almost lost me during the process."

"Professor Snape is Draco's and my godfather, did you know that? No, I guess you wouldn't. No one does, really. He's not a very good godfather. He doesn't go to birthday parties or anything like that. I really only started seeing him after school began. But my father gave him the title after he saved my mother's and my life. It was a very great honor for my father to give Snape that. A traditional pureblood child whose godfather was a half-blood? It's unheard of. And he just threw it in his face," Graces scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Just like a half-blood to not appreciate the things he is given."

Graces was silent for a moment, clearly regaining herself from her rant.

"Anyways, Snape, the great potion master that he is, saved my life and my mother's life too which is what earned him such a title. He, however, wasn't able to fix the damage my mother suffered during the birth, and he informed my father that I was to be his last child."

"And this is how I became Graces Bellatrix Malfoy, instead of Trivia. My father was just so thankful to have me, his last child, his only little girl, that he decided I needed a name completely different from the rest, something no one else could ever have, a name I could define on my own. So he made up Graces. It was pretty, strong, everything he wanted. I could mold it on my own, which is sort of the point of a given name. Your parents start it with meaning they hope for you to achieve, but it is up to you to make it your own."

"Neville Alastor Longbottom," Graces said quietly, looking down at her hands on the desk. "It's a kind first name. Comforting even on the tongue. Not harsh or hard. It could demand respect, it's not weak, but it gives more comfort I suppose." She smiled weakly at the thought. If that was what Frank and Alice Longbottom wanted for their son, they had it. "Your parents' greatest hopes must have been that you would be a good and kind man. Alastor, though... They must have hoped for you to be like him in some ways. Probably brave and just. So much is in given names..."

Graces looked up at Neville. He was listening, but it was clear he didn't understand. If anything she was just confusing him. She sighed and realized she would just have to say it.

"Saying your given name is addressing you as an individual. You're separate from your family. When I say Pansy, I am not thinking Parkinson. I am thinking Pansy who I played dress up with, Pansy who is a prissy girly girl. If I started addressing you just by your given name, I'm worried I will forget about who you are outside of being Neville. I can't let myself forget that. You are a Longbottom and I am a Malfoy. Blood has been spilled between our families, blood that is stained there between us. Saying your name is like crossing that line and not looking back at the blood. It's like trying to pretend that it isn't there. I-I can't ignore who we are outside of ourselves, Longbottom," she whispered. "I can't allow myself to forget."

Neville could read between those lines. I can't allow myself to fall in love with you. She said his last name to remind herself to keep a distance.

"Right," Neville rasped nodding his head and searching through his coat for the package that was delivered that morning from Gringotts. He took out the small parcel, neatly wrapped in tan paper, and set it down between the two of them. Graces eyed it warily, as Neville drummed his thumb against the table, clearly trying to think of what to say. "It-it should protect you. Not from everything, just from Nott forcing himself on you. It's, well, it's not what you think though. Well, it is, but it's not and—"

"What is it?" Graces asked softly, picking up the small package and gingerly undoing the paper, stopping when she saw it was a ring box.

Graces felt like all the air left the room. A ring box. A ring box. She turned over the parchment and saw that the package was from Gingotts. From Neville's personal vault. A ring box from Neville's personal vault meant-

"What the bloody hell are you trying to pull?" Graces screeched, flinging the box on the table and standing up. "No. No. No. No. I can't believe you would even—absolutely not."

"Graces—"

"NO! Are you mad? You have to be mad!"

"It is not what you think, let me explain."

"Is that your mother's ring?" Graces asked, almost near hysterics.

"Yes, but—"

"Oh my gods," Graces moaned, turning her back on Neville and screaming in her hands. "What are you thinking? That we would just get married and have a fidelity charm? Are you really that—"

"I am not marrying you!" Neville roared over the blonde's shrieks. "Will you sit down and shut up for just two minutes while I explain!"

Graces immediately stopped her rant at Neville's stern voice. Her heart was beating a million miles a minutes and she felt woozy like she had been spun around on a broom.

"Sit. Down," Neville ordered again, his jaw set tightly. Graces took a few shallow breaths to regain herself before timidly taking a seat.

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Neville knew he needed to calm down. He was edging really close to just losing it with the girl in front of him, and he needed to cool off. None of this was Graces' fault. She had never let him live under any sort of delusion they could be together. She had never pretended that her family was anything but what they were. She had said she herself planned on being a Death Eater. And he had chosen to pursue her even when she tried violently to push him away.

It just all hurt. Everything hurt. They could never be together. She was smart enough to distance herself, never say his name and whatever else she did, but he was a fool. He was a fool that chose to just keep falling down an empty well, a well he pretended had water at the bottom.

Neville put away those thoughts and gently took up the package. He took his time undoing the package to allow himself some moments to gather himself. Finally he was holding a bare box. He had never really seen his mother's wedding band. In pictures yes, but not up close like this. His gran had only recently allowed it to be placed in his personal vault, along with a few other things that he should have as the patriarch. Slowly he opened the box.

It was plain. Just a golden white band. There was no inscription, diamonds, or any other kinds of jewels associated with it. Just a band. He wondered if his mother had been disappointed in it.

_No. She wasn't the type. Gran said she enjoyed simpler things..._

Neville nodded to himself and removed the ring from it's box.

"It will protect you from Nott forcing himself on you," he informed, finally taking his eyes away from the ring and holding it out to Graces. The blonde didn't take the ring though, she just stared at it as though she didn't believe it was real.

"What will it do? Is-is it like one of those fidelity charms? Just placed on a ring? Is it going to burn any man that so much as touches me or—"

"Graces," Neville sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. "It won't do anything like that. Just trust me in that it will protect you."

"I can't take that ring."

Neville inwardly groaned, but tried to look patient as he stared across the table at Graces.

"Why?"

"It's your mother's ring," Graces said quietly looking away. "It wouldn't be right."

"It's not her ring anymore," Neville murmured. "It's mine now. It hasn't been her ring in over a decade. It's been passed down in the Longbottom line for ages."

"I can't," Graces maintained, looking on the brink of tears. "It's your mother's ring. Your future wife's ring. You need it to give to her."

"I have no doubt that you will give me the ring back, Graces. Just take it until you're safe. It would just be gathering dust in a vault otherwise."

"What will your future spouse say if she knew I wore her ring? What would your mother say if she knew I was wearing her ring?"

"I am not even going to address the future spouse thing, considering our relationship with one another, and as for my mother, I will never know considering people like your brother tortured her."

Neville regretted it the moment it slipped out. He watched as Graces covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes as silent tears fell. It was harsh and cruel of him to say it, but he didn't seem able to control himself. He hated Death Eaters.

"Draco has never done anything like that," Graces rasped. "He hasn't. I would know if he had."

"I'm sorry," Neville sighed. "I shouldn't have said that. Just take the ring, Graces."

"I can't."

Neville leaned back in his seat, stared up at the ceiling wondering what God up there insisted on torturing him.

"Here are your options. You don't take the ring and sleep with Nott willingingly. You don't take the ring and are violently raped by the bastard. You take the ring and are safe from ever having to know what Theodore Nott feels like inside you."

Neville knew that he was being crude and blunt. Just saying those things aloud made him sick and he was not the one that it could be happening to. Graces was. He hoped that putting those options in perspective for her would force her to make the right decision. After a few moments Graces wiped her eyes and gingerly took the ring.

"Not on the right hand. It has to be the left."

"Why?"

"Trust me, you don't want it on the right, Graces."

The blonde nodded and slipped the ring on her left. Both students stared at it for a few moments.

_Better soak it in._

"Do you know how to glamour it so it doesn't show?" Neville asked tightly, turning his head away.

"Yeah, I can figure it out. Thank you," Graces added softly, turning the ring around on her finger examining it.

Neville just nodded and tried to think of how to get out the next thing he had to tell her.

"I need space," he finally said after what seemed like hours just sitting together in silence.

"Space?"

"Yeah, space."

"I don't understand," Graces whispered, staring at him and frowning. "What do you mean by space."

"I-I just need to clear my head and think," Neville shrugged. "I just think that would be easier if we had some distance between us."

"You don't want to see me," Graces accused angry tears brimming around her eyes.

"No, I don't."

"Are—are you breaking it off with me?" Graces asked angrily.

Neville frowned and stared at the girl in front of him.

"Well, now, I would think that would be impossible considering we are not in any sort of relationship."

Neville watched as Graces' walls began to go up. He watched her eyes turn stormy, her chin turn up and her jaw set. "Right." And then he watched as she stormed out of the room. He knew he should feel an array of emotions, but all he felt was empty.


	34. Chapter 34

If Neville wanted space, Graces was hell bent on giving him space. What did she care anyways if he wanted space? He was just a fling, some bloke she fancied and enjoyed sleeping with. It was just off-putting at first, a shock. She had never expected for Neville to demand space from her like that. He always was trying to have more time with her and now all of the sudden he didn't even want to see her.

_Because your brother is a Death Eater._

_So is my father. So is my aunt._

_Draco carries more weight with your future and you know it._

Graces swallowed hard at the emotion building in her throat and finished putting on her earrings.

"Are you okay?" Pansy asked, spritzing herself generously with a floral perfume.

"Never better," Graces snipped.

"You just seem... blah."

"Blah..." Graces repeated, turning and staring at her friend. "That's the word you want to use? Blah? Not down, crestfallen, dejected, low-spirited, morose, despairing, despondent or any other of the worthy words in the english language—including the word sad—you want to say blah?"

"I have some choice words to call you right now," Pansy quipped raising a challenging eyebrow at her friend. "Would you like to hear those?" Graces didn't respond, instead she just continued to glare at the dark haired girl before her. "Listen, Gray, I love you to pieces. You know I do, but I refuse to deal with your moodiness and your brother's at the same time. We as a house cannot deal with two Malfoys in foul moods. So whatever happened yesterday to upset you, you better resolve. Now, you can resolve it with me as your best friend there for you, or you can continue to be a loner, but you will resolve it and stop snapping at all of us."

It was true. There was no doubt that Graces had been short with her housemates since waking up in the barn. It was just so hard for her to pretend like nothing happened, like nothing was happening. She was secluding herself from her friends, and she knew it. She was not eating meals with them, not studying with them, wanting to be alone when walking to class and ignoring them when they called out to her in the common room. Just last night Thomas had waved her over and she pretended to not see.

And all of that was without mentioning that she was scared to face Nott. She just couldn't stomach even the thought of seeing him. She couldn't hex him, or even accuse him of what she knew he had done. She would have to sit there and pretend as though nothing happened. It wasn't right. She shouldn't have to sit there pretending all was well, when it wasn't.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, closing her eyes and tiredly putting her forehead in her hand.

"You are?" Pansy asked astounded, before catching herself. "I mean, yes of course you are. As you should be." Graces nodded, and continued to stare off. "Do you want to talk to me about it?"

"No," Graces sighed. "I just _can't_ talk to you about it, Pans."

"Oh... that kind of stuff."

"Yeah, that kind of stuff."

"Draco will be fine," Pansy comforted, moving to sit with her. "He will be. He's strong, remember when he got attacked by that hippogriff?"

Graces scowled, and wondered if Pansy was being serious. She looked over and saw that she was.

_Love is so blind..._

"I'm hungry," Graces decided, wanting desperately to change the subject. "Lets go to breakfast."

"Really? You're going to go join the living?"

"I suppose if I must," Graces smiled, grabbing her bag off her trunk.

"Draco will be happy. I think he's missed you during meals. He's been disappearing so much after though."

"He's busy," Graces shrugged. "Come on, let's head down."

Pansy was right. Draco had missed her. The moment she had descended from the stairs her brother was by her side, as though he had been waiting in the common room for her. Graces felt a strong surge of guilt as she looked at her brother. He was a mess. It was obvious he was a mess, and she had been so concerned about herself and her woes she had forgotten how much he must need her.

"I have to quit the team," he said quietly as they took their seats to eat. He grabbed some toast and avoided her eyes, clearly worried over how she would take the news.

"I'm out for probably the rest of the season," Graces informed, offering him a small smile.

Draco frowned and looked at her arm. "The sling is off, I thought it all healed."

"I damaged the tendon when it was still healing from the potion," Graces said quietly. "Pomfrey had to go in and heal it again, but there is a lot of scar tissue now. It's sensitive. I have to lay off it for a year."

"Would you like for me to arrange for our family healer to take a look at it?" Draco asked, putting some jam on the piece of toast.

"No, it's fine. It all seemed pretty standard." Draco nodded, and placed the toast on Graces plate. "Thanks."

"Just let me know if you change your mind. Never hurts to get a second opinion."

Graces nodded and nibbled at a bit of the toast, trying very hard not to look over to Neville.

"Are you busy tonight?" she asked. "I thought maybe we could spend some time together." Immediately after she asked Graces realized that time with her brother was no longer an option. He was taking Nott seriously now, and that meant he was doing everything in his power to ensure that he was always seen attending to the task. Spending time with her was definitely not something Nott would approve of. "I could just come with you, if you have plans," she offered hopefully.

"Or you could finish my potions essay for me," Draco suggested with a grin.

Graces tried to put on a brave face and nod along. The rest of breakfast was like that. A series of fake emotions that she and Draco passed to one another. An encouraging smile here, a pathetic attempt at humor there, a facade of who they thought they should be to one another. Both knew that if they were to sit there and actually discuss their situation they would break down. And during that time, where she was pretending that all was well, she missed Neville.

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Neville didn't know how he was going to accomplish maintaining space away from Graces, but he was determined to do so. He needed this. He had to think about what he was doing. He had been so naive before. He loved Graces, there was nothing that could change that, but he needed to figure out if he could continue acting on it.

He would, of course, continue ensuring her safety. He would allow her to keep the ring, and he would also keep a close eye on Nott, but being with her, allowing himself to fall more in love with her, when he knew full well now that there was no way they could be together... It wasn't just her family separating them. He now didn't know how to _see_ her separate from them. She wasn't a Death Eater, but she would be now. If Draco was one, she would follow. Neville had no doubt in his mind about that. He could have seen her jumping ship from her father's mistakes, but she wouldn't from Draco's. She would stay by his side regardless of the outcome.

He looked up from his desk to glance at her. She was up in the front of the potions class, glued to her brother's side. They moved as a unit, neither needing to speak as they continued their potion together. He would move his chin a little that way and she would nod and hand him a vial. She would heave a sigh and he would take the pedestal and grind the rest of the ingredient for her. There was no way for him to love her without adding Draco to the mix. If he cared about her he had to care for him. A Death Eater.

Neville turned his head down, back to his work, as Snape approached him. He tried to remain calm as the man towered over him. He knew what he was doing now, and he reassured himself through every step that he was correct. _Don't let him get to you._ He chanted to himself again and again, as Snape sneered at this and scoffed at that.

As Neville allowed the cauldron to simmer for a few minutes he wondered about Snape's relation to Graces. He had saved her life. He had been there when she was born, and probably held her and gave her some concoction of his to make her healthy. Snape was responsible for her being in this class right now. He wondered if he thought of that when he saw her walking in the halls. Her existence was thanks to him. Neville imagined that Lucius Malfoy had the best healers in the room for his children when they were being brought into this world, and for whatever reason they weren't able to help his wife and daughter. But Snape was. This man standing over him now was the reason the woman he loved was standing across the room from him, this hateful man right beside him.

Snape had never shown any kind of affection towards Graces, though. He had never witnessed any kind of action on his part to indicate he cared for the life he had saved. Graces had even said he was a neglectful godfather. He didn't do any of the duties required of him. Was it possible that Snape separated himself from the Malfoys because of Lucius? He was after all tried as a Death Eater shortly after Graces and Draco's birth, but Dumbledore had vouched for him. Did Snape not want anything to do with such a family, and thus when given the title decided it best not to become attached to the daughter of a Death Eater?

"Is there something you would like to say, Mr. Longbottom?" Snape growled lowly, his beak nose almost touching Neville's.

Neville jumped, he had not even realized he had dazed out staring at Snape.

"No, I... uh... I'm sorry. I, uh, just—"

"Would you please just desist from that blathering, and bottle your potion?" Snape snapped, moving over to his desk and announcing that he wished for the rest of the class to do the same.

Neville breathed a sigh of relief as Snape moved away, and quickly began filling a vial.

"Neville?" _Oh, great._ "Everything okay?" Hermione asked concerned.

"Fine," Neville dismissed.

"Why were you staring at Snape?"

"I just dazed out," Neville muttered, walking away before Hermione could ask him any more questions and setting his vial down on Snape's desk.

"I'm impressed." Neville's mouth dropped at Snape's proclamation, and before he could think he looked over to Graces whose eyes had widened considerably, as well as sent a glance of excitement over to him before looking forward again. "Miss Malfoy, it would seem you have managed to do the impossible. A hundred points to Slytherin."

"What!" Harry and Ron exclaimed from the back. "Neville did the work," they both cried out outraged.

"I think it could be argued that Miss Malfoy did the work," Snape retorted silky, a small smile curling at the end of his lips.

"No, I—" Graces immediately shut her mouth as the potions master sent her a glare.

"I'm sorry Miss Malfoy, what were you saying?"

"Thank you, sir," Graces murmured quietly, looking forward and avoiding even the slightest glance at Neville.

"Damn it, Graces. Now I have to pay Thomas nine galleons," Blaise groaned.

"You doubted her ability?" Draco laughed, proudly putting his arm around his twin.

"It's Longbottom!" Blaise exclaimed. "It wasn't so much doubting her ability as it was doubting his capacity."

Neville blushed and looked down as the Slytherin's all began laughing around him. Part of him, the part of him that held masochistic tendencies, wanted to glance up and see if Graces was laughing as well, putting on a show for all to see, but he made himself not look. He walked despondently back to his desk, heaving a sigh as Gryffindor lost a hundred points for raising their voices as his roommates all tried vainly to stick up for him.

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The next day Graces was practically sitting on the edge of her seat waiting for Neville to arrive to herbology. Yesterday's potion class was... well, not good. It was silly, but the whole night she had stressed over Neville's thoughts on what had happened. Did he blame her? He shouldn't. She didn't ask for the points and she had not said anything about his previous lack of talent in potions.

_You did laugh with everyone..._

_I had to._

Graces closed her eyes and heaved a silent sigh to the heavens. She had ran out of chocolate last night and now her anxiety was through the roof. She had angrily sworn that she was going to give Neville space, but as the night passed on restlessly that determination had withered away. She didn't want to be angry with Neville, and she didn't want him to be angry with her. Especially over the potions incident.

She wondered if Neville would come early to class. She hoped he would, no one was there at the moment, not even Sprout and the isolation would allow them a few moments to talk. She took a deep breath and prayed he would come early. Her prayers were answered as a moment later Neville entered the classroom. He stopped for a moment at seeing her standing there, clearly waiting for him, before turning his head down and walking over.

"Longbottom, I—"

"Do you mind if I take the left side," Neville interrupted, still avoiding her gaze.

"Wh-what?" Graces asked perplexed.

"The left side. Can I have the left side of the desk."

Graces eyes trailed to Neville's left arm clutching his rucksack tightly, and nodded her head. Space. He still wanted space, so much so that he didn't want to risk his arm brushing against hers as he wrote. When she looked up Neville was staring at her, impatiently waiting for her reply.

"Of course, I-I just need to move my things," she breathed, mechanically turning and starting to rearrange the desk. Biting the inside of her cheek to try to maintain herself, she dropped and fumbled as she moved everything, noting that Neville made no attempt to try and help her. By the time she had finished she slumped in her seat examining the black ink stain on her sleeve from when she knocked her inkwell over. She prayed that Neville was still avoiding looking at her, so that she could at least have the comfort that he would not see the fluster that had seeping into her cheeks. Slowly, she began to regain herself. Sitting up, she started rolling up her sleeves to hide the stain.

When she finished she forced herself to fold her hands on the table and wait for class to begin. She wanted to be the way she was before. She wanted to stare forward into the class and not allow her eyes to wander anywhere as people began trickling in. She was a Malfoy. She was Graces Bellatrix Malfoy: elegant, confident, smart and pureblood. She didn't need Neville Longbottom to pay her attention. She didn't need anyone. And yet despite her reassurances, as the class took their seats, her eyes peeked over to Neville who was staring at her left hand.

"I'm wearing it," she murmured, answering the unspoken question. Neville merely nodded, before looking forward again. "Do you want it back?"

"No, I don't want it back."

"Right," Graces said slowly. "What you want is space," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. Neville sent her a quick, nervous glance, before looking forward again. If anything it just infuriated the blonde more. Here she was standing next to him wearing his mother's ring on her left hand and he was just insisting on not even looking at her. Anger began to bubble up again inside her as she gave more thought to it. Neville began flipping through his herbology book as though she didn't exist and Graces had to grind her teeth to keep herself from pulling out her wand and hexing him.

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"I won't turn away, Graces. I won't ignore anything about you to make you more appealing, because I truly want to know you." Neville stilled as he heard his words coming from Graces mouth. "You are so much more than a pawn that is being played by a psychopath, and I can remember that." There was a long silence, a silence that Neville felt was sucking the air from the room making it harder and harder to breathe. "What a load of Gryffindor bullshit," Graces growled bitterly.

Neville bit the inside of his cheek as Graces' words triggered the memory of being alone in that classroom with her. He had said that, word for word. She had said she was going to be a Death Eater and he had sworn he didn't care.

"I take it you want to do the practical work separately today," Graces clipped frostily, taking half of the touch-me-nots and moving them over to the side. Neville watched her for a moment as she went over to the front of the class and picked up a bag of dragon manure, wrinkling her nose at the bag, and flinching slightly as she heaved it up. He moved to go help her, but the moment he took a step she looked over and sent him the darkest of looks.

He had in a way betrayed her. It had been easy to say those words to her, so easy to tell her that he wanted to know things before knowing. She had been right when she warned him that he couldn't unknow something and he had pushed and pushed until he knew.

_It's good I know. I have an idea of what is going on. I can protect her now._

_You can barely look at her._

Neville forced himself to look over at Graces, and his heart immediately ached to be near her. He wanted to go over to her, pull her into him and tell her he was sorry, that none of it mattered, and kiss her soundly, but he couldn't. He couldn't for many reasons. Other people were around, Graces would never allow such an offer when she was this mad and it would be a lie. It did matter. It mattered for so many reasons. It wasn't her. Neville loved her. It was her family, and his self-preservation. Death was one thing. Neville had no problem risking his life for those he cared about, but his heart was another thing altogether. Maybe it was cowardly, but he just couldn't do it.

His heart was already being torn apart by Graces. How could he allow it to be butchered anymore than he had already allowed. His whole life he had to suffer through the heartache of loving people out of his reach. He had loved his parents despite their inability to be what he needed. His gran and great uncle were the only two people he had that could love him the way he so desperately craved, and he was aware that they would not be around forever. He thought Graces could grow to love him the way he loved her. That they could have one another.

_**"Tell me, Longbottom," Graces queried gently, her voice lacking the harshness it usually maintained, "What would come of that, of us getting to know one another? Nothing has changed because of what we did. I am still well on my way to being a Death Eater. What good would come from us fancying one another? Honestly, would you want to introduce me to your gran, after what my aunt has done to her only son? Or better yet, do you think that I could ever be civil to your mudblood friends like Granger? Nothing can come from what we did. Fairy tales are a myth, Longbottom, stories of fiction to make good little boys and girls stay innocent as long as possible before they are slapped across the face with reality and tossed into the big, bad, real world. The hero doesn't always** _ _**win and the good guy doesn't always get the girl. These stories you have heard growing up are nothing but lies. This is reality. You're an heir. Your family is expecting you to marry a sweet** _ _**,** _ _**light witch from a respectable light family that will bear you a sweet, light heir to continue your legacy. And I have expectations as well. Family is everything, Longbottom. The real key to immortality, and I will not hurt mine. We could never possibly grow to fancy one another."** _

Neville shook his head, as though he could get the memories of Graces' warnings away. For days he had remembered all the warnings she gave him. Not an hour passed by where he didn't groan at what a fool he had been. He should have walked away when Graces first told him to. He should have agreed that they could never grow to fancy one another and—

_She did grow to fancy you though. Do you really regret this? Do you regret evenings filled with laughter, corny herbology and potion jokes, discussions on the dangers of hay? Do you regret knowing how her skin feels against your lips? Do you regret that you know how she enjoys being held or how it feels when she sighs against your chest? Would it have been worth never knowing she liked Shakespeare or that she bites her lower lip when nervous? Because when you believe you should have walked away at the beginning you are believing that none of that was worth anything._

Neville paused in his work. Did he believe that? He stared down at the plant he was supposed to be tending to, the touch-me-not. Mimosa Pudica. Gently he caressed the leaves and smiled quietly to himself as they closed to the touch. He had always loved touch-me-nots. When he was younger he would sit for hours petting the plant and watching the leaves fold together. He had felt like he was performing some sort of spell. After a single touch the leaves would fold in on themselves and disappear for a few minutes and in that time he would make believe that he was a powerful wizard.

All day he would have to see the fear in his Gran's eyes that he was a squib. Oh she would pretend everything was grand in his presence, but you can't hide that kind of fear. He would lay awake at night and listen as his Uncle tried to comfort her that he was just a late bloomer and he would show accidental magic as he grew older. But in his garden he didn't have to deal with any of that. In his garden he was magical. Things would grow, leaves would hide at his touch, he could make spores fly through the air just by breathing. He loved gardening.

Graces made him feel like he was a child back in his garden pretending he was a wizard. Only with her it was real. She made him feel at ease. She made him laugh. She made him feel like a man. She was his garden in life, only she was the one tending to him and making him grow. Never before had he felt so gloriously happy and comfortable in his own skin. He loved her for all that she was and all that she made him to be. And that was worth everything. He didn't regret not walking away.

_Great, now that we have established that we only have a million other things to figure out._

_It's a start though._ Neville thought, looking over to Graces and watching as she struggled to keep the pods on the plant from breaking. _I don't regret not walking away. I don't regret knowing her. I don't regret loving her. It's a start. I just need to figure out if I can continue to do this to myself and what to do from there._

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Graces sat in the library pretending to read a book. In all reality she hadn't gotten past the second paragraph. She just sat there staring at the letters on the page rotating the ring on her left hand, and thinking about Neville. Neville who didn't say a word to her all day. Neville who didn't look at her. Neville who was out the door immediately after class was dismissed. Neville who she missed and hated at the moment.

_You don't hate him._

Graces let out a long sigh. She didn't. She understood why he needed space and why he was going to choose to walk away from her. But that didn't change the fact that it hurt. She had tried to push him away, and he had insisted on being there, and now that she actually wanted him there and needed him to stay he was going to leave.

_You knew this would eventually end._

_I didn't think it would end now,_ Graces snapped inwardly. _I thought it would end when I was killed for Draco's failures or when I took the mark to be a Death Eater. I didn't expect it to end like this._

_Is this now serious?_

_He's my friend. The only good thing I have in my life to look forward to at the end of the day. He's... he's my friend, my friend who I enjoy shagging and fancy a bit, Graces added quickly._

_A bit?_

_Fine. A lot. It's serious in that he's my good friend and I really need him right now._

_What you really need right now is to finish this chapter so you can write both your and Draco's potions essay._

Graces nodded and with newfound determination began to read. She had pushed through the first page of note writing and was beginning on the second when a shadow appeared over her desk. She stopped in her dictations and held her breath in apprehension only to be disappointed as she noticed the shadow did not belong to Neville. Slight frame, bushy hair, and not at all the height Neville's shadow would have been at. Granger.

The blonde inwardly groaned at the thought of talking to the school's know-it-all, and decided to just continue with her work as though the girl wasn't there. Sadly though, Hermione didn't take the hint and continued to make small sounds to try to notify Graces of her presence. It was at about the third time that Hermione cleared her throat that Graces decided to say something.

"I am well aware of your presence, Granger," she informed coldly. "I am just choosing to ignore it."

"I need to talk to you about something," Hermione said, determined.

Graces knew the annoying girl wasn't going to take the hint, but she still applauded herself on the good try.

"And I need you to get out of my light," Graces countered, still not looking up at the girl, and casually flipping a page of her text book. She exhaled agitatedly as Hermione pulled out the seat across from her and sat. The two of them glared at one another for a few moments before Hermione spoke.

"You're very beautiful."

"I'm not interested," Graces deadpanned, returning to her book.

Hermione ignored Graces' statement, and just continued on.

"I'm sure you must realize the effect you have on, well, men, and I just wanted you to be a bit more cautious of when you are alone with certain individuals," Hermione said, inwardly cheered as she realized Graces was now giving her her full attention. Her silver eyes were boring into her warning that she better tread lightly. "And I'm sure you wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong impression."

"Wrong impression," Graces repeated, a knife's edge to her words.

"You know," Hermione went on nervously. "Make them think you're interested when you're not..." Hermione could feel the air tensing around them, and decided that she should just get to the point. "The thing is Neville has a, well, a bit of a crush on you and I just want to make sure he doesn't get hurt. He's a good guy: kind, thoughtful, caring and he can be sensitive, so I don't want him being hurt," Hermione repeated again nervously.

"You don't think that he would be hurt to know that you, one of his so-called friends decided to tell his crush about his private affections towards them?" Graces quipped with a raised eyebrow, leaning back in her chair while savoring Hermione's reddening cheeks. "You're so thoughtful."

"I'm just trying to look out for him," Hermione defended. "Neville is a great guy and I know that you're not interested in him and—"

"Who says I wouldn't be interested?" Graces asked calmly, folding her book and looking Hermione square in the eyes.

Hermione blanked at Graces words and sat there awkwardly. Graces had a knack for making her feel unnerved. Unlike Draco she could sit perfectly still and not say a word and make her feel little. Draco used words to do that and Graces used presence, much like her father.

"Yeah," Hermione scoffed. "Like you would be interested in Neville."

"Of course, why wouldn't I be. After all you just said Longbottom is a good man. A girl would have to be out of her mind to not want a good man. Especially one that has such funny herbology jokes. Who wouldn't want Neville Longbottom?"

"Just keep away from him," Hermione growled, thinking of all the ways Graces could lead Neville on just to hurt him in the end for fun.

"Now Granger, why on earth would I do that? We just established that Longbottom is a sweet, kind and noble man that wants me. Why would I keep away from him? If anything, I should be doing more to entice him."

The two girls stood there staring at each other challengingly. Hermione knew Graces was enjoying this, that she found the whole situation laughable. She was now wondering if this had been a mistake. She had thought that Graces would have been uncomfortable with Neville liking her and thus would try to avoid so many tutoring sessions with him. But now she realized that is just what she would have done. Graces Malfoy was a monster, and monsters rarely cared about what kind of damage they did.

"You don't deserve a man like Neville," Hermione declared, her voice shaking from emotion. "Just leave him alone."

"What do you know about entitlement?" Graces spat, now standing from her seat. "You disgusting mudblood. You don't deserve to be here. This isn't your world. We are not your people. You are a weed in a flower bed. You poison all the roots around you, and prevent us from growing strong. You may look like one of us, you may act like one of us, but you are not one of us." Hermione held her breath as Graces loomed over her panting. "Don't you ever tell me what to do. I am a witch and I will do as I like."

"I'm a witch too," Hermione growled, trying her best not to be intimidated or start crying out of anger.

"You're magical," Graces smirked wickedly, turning Hermione's chair out and bracing herself on each arm as she leaned in. "I'll give you that. But you are no witch. You're just a mousy know-it-all mudblood. You and I are not the same. We are fundamentally different. I am better than you. I belong here. At the end of the day you are just a muggle girl thrown into a strange world." Hermione shivered as Graces leaned down so that her lips were barely touching her earlobe. "And I am home."

Hermione pushed Graces away and sidestepped to the other side of a desk, shaking like a leaf despite herself.

"Get away from me," she hissed.

Graces just smiled and moved around the desk like an animal stalking it's prey.

"You keep away from me, and I shall keep away from you," Graces stipulated, smirking as she retook her seat. Hermione pursed her lips and started to walk away, knowing that there was really no talking to the blonde before her. "Same for Longbottom," Graces added, causing the bushy haired girl to look back. "If he keeps away from me, I shall keep away from him." Graces gave a little satisfied smile as she saw Hermione's face tighten. "But as you mentioned, I am aware of the effect I have on men."

Graces didn't realize that she had been shaking, but as she relaxed and brought her hand up to open her book she noticed the slight tremor. She didn't know what had upset her more, the confrontation with Granger, or being reminded that Neville liked her, and that right now she could lose all that.

_I think we both know what it is that has you upset._

And with that thought she placed her head in her hands and sobbed for her potential loss.


	35. Chapter 35

Graces was now regretting her deal with Hermione. Not that it was really a deal, but the point was that she was giving Neville his space. He didn't approach her and she didn't approach him. Days had passed like this, to the point where Graces was beyond fatigued. She had stopped having a good night's rest. Again she was plagued with night terrors, only now other horrible atrocities were in the mix: Nott cornering her alone in an abandoned room and ripping off her clothes, Draco and her mother both being tortured, her father being killed in Azkaban, the list went on and on. One dream would morph into the other and she would wake up in a pool of her own sweat and cry.

"Y-You ok-k-kay?"

Graces looked up from her book and smiled as Thomas took a seat next to her in the arm chair.

"Never better, darling, just tired."

"Y-y-you l-look m-m-more than t-t-tired," Thomas observed, leaning back against the cushion. "Y-you l-look f-f-f-fat-t-tig-gued."

"Is that your way of telling me I look like shit, Thomas?" Graces sighed, leaning against her friend's shoulder and closing her eyes.

"L-language," Thomas tittered.

"No one is around and it's late, no need to be so proper."

"Are y-you w-w-waiting f-f-for D-d-draco?"

"I don't know," Graces admitted, staring sadly out at the murky water beyond the window. "Maybe I'm just standing still," she whispered absently.

Thomas frowned at the statement, but didn't push any further. Graces looked like a wreck. There were large bags under her eyes and her cheeks held no color. It was late, he could make the excuse that she was just tired, but he had a feeling it was something more. He wondered where Draco disappeared to all the time and if he realized his sister was in such a bad way. _He's in a bad way too._ Thomas looked sideways at Graces leaning on his shoulder, and slowly raised his arm up to put around her. To his surprise Graces allowed the touch, and even pulled herself more on the couch so that she could rest against him.

"How are things going with Arisanti?"

"O-k-kay," Thomas shrugged.

"Slytherin lost 20 points today because you two were snogging in some abandoned hall," Graces pointed out lightly. "I would gather that that means things are going more than okay."

Thomas blushed at having his behavior pointed out, and wondered if Graces was about to say more on that subject.

"Reservation is always best, Thomas. You should know that."

"It-t's j-j-just e-easier to s-s-snogg th-than t-t-talk," Thomas blushed.

"I see," Graces hummed. "I've noticed that she is always busy when we are in the common room." Thomas narrowed his eyes at the girl leaning against him. "That makes it impossible for you two to talk, considering that you cannot speak outside of this safe haven. I suppose it's easier to snog than talk for her as well."

Thomas just sat quietly and let Graces' words hang in the air above them. He didn't really want to examine his relationship with Wendelin. She was a pretty girl who was interested in him. She would sit with him in the Great Hall, allow him to walk her to class and kiss him senseless. And for him that was enough for now. He enjoyed it. No girl had ever given him such attention before. Sure it was annoying that she was always asking him to do wandless non verbal spells. Sometimes he felt like he was watching one of his nieces or nephews and they were asking him to show them magic, but it was a fair price to pay for the company. It wasn't as though he could talk to her out in public, might as well perform a spell here and there to entertain her.

"I just want you to make sure that you find a girl who is in love with you and not just your magic," Graces continued quietly.

"J-just hav-ving s-some f-f-fun," Thomas shrugged, trying to ignore the tight feeling in his chest. "I-I'm n-n-not an hei-heir. I c-c-can h-have f-f-fun."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

Thomas knew Graces didn't mean to upset him, but she also didn't mean to protect him from being upset. Her tone told him that. She wanted him to be aware, so she was making him aware. He wondered if she was going to go any further and write to his mother about the subject, if she did he really couldn't argue. Graces was now a part of the family, like an older sister, and if he were to be upset about her doing such things the family would side with her. Especially if she pointed out what she saw and the reasons she was worried.

"I'm not going to tell anyone. You can have your fun, I would just like for you to be aware to maintain a distance. I don't trust a girl that is drawn to power. It reminds me too much of my aunt."

"Wh-what d-d-draws y-you in?" Thomas asked, wanting to switch the conversation away from him. He watched as Graces stared off and became lost in some sort of memory.

"Kind eyes and a warm smile," she hummed. "Not a smirk, a smile. Like the ones where you can see a bit of teeth... genuine. It's an incredible feeling to walk into a room and see someone smile like that at seeing you."

"And w-who, m-m-may I ask, is s-s-smiling at the s-s-sight of y-you?" Thomas teased.

"No one," Graces choked, moving and burying her head into Thomas' side. Thomas sat there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Graces was not the kind of girl to show weakness like this to anyone, and she was showing it to him. He knew this was a big gesture in what he meant to her, and he racked his brain for something reassuring to say, but the thing was he didn't know why she was upset to begin with. "I'm very tired, I think I shall go to bed."

Thomas made to say something, but before he could Graces was hurrying towards the stairs, making sure he wasn't able to get a glimpse of her face as she left. He sat in the chair his hairs on his arms now raising from the missing warmth of Graces' body.

"A bit late for you to be up." Thomas looked over to see Draco entering the common room. If he thought Graces looked like a mess it was nothing in comparison to her brother. Draco didn't just have bags under his eyes, he had droops under them. And he looked as though he had taken an aging potion. His whole face looked ashen, not pale, and his hair even had a dull look to it, instead of it's usual luster. "So, are you going to tell me why you are out of bed? Or are you just going to sit there staring at my pretty face," the blonde grumbled, moving forward.

"G-graces w-was w-w-waiting f-f-for y-you. I w-w-"

"Was keeping her company?" Draco offered helpfully. Thomas nodded and waited for him to say more. "I take it she became tired and went to bed. Something you should have done as well," Draco added giving Thomas a pointed look.

"W-w-where w-w-were y-y-ou?"

"Nowhere you need to know about," Draco said, giving Thomas a warning glare. "Go to bed, Thomas. It's late."

Thomas nodded and began walking over to his dorm.

"How is my sister by the way?" Draco called after, taking a seat in the arm chair, pulling out a flask and taking a generous swig.

"F-f-fine," Thomas lied. "Sh-she's f-f-fine."

Draco looked up at him for a moment, and Thomas did his best to school his features to a normal expression.

"You're lying," Draco observed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But considering you are lying to me about this subject, it means you feel she is still doing better than I am. I'm touched that you are trying to save me from such worry," Draco smirked. "She's just a bit shaken at the moment. It will pass. I've been slipping her a calming potion lately. It's easy; a few drops on a piece of chocolate and she's gold. She won't refuse chocolate or cocoa. Trust me, I know what I'm doing; she doesn't even notice."

"W-why n-n-not g-g-give h-h-her the d-d-draught of p-p-p-peace?"

"Calming draught allows her to feel numb. Draught of peace takes care of anxiety and allows you to think clearly, but I like the calming potion for her more. It's not as hard to make. No need for there to be clarity. Calming draughts are better for hysterics. It's working isn't it?"

Thomas stood near the staircase, and tried to think about how he felt about Draco drugging his sister like this.

"If I didn't drug her she would be a mess. I'm doing it for her own good."

"Sh-she's l-l-like the w-w-walking d-d-dead l-l-lately," Thomas wailed. "Y-you c-c-can't d-d-do th-that!"

"She wasn't doing well, she got some bad news after the quidditch game, and then she seemed to just be taking it worse. You know I saw her crying in the library a few days ago? Crying, Thomas. In public where people could see. Luckily, no one else was there, but what if someone had been there? I don't have the time to be there for her, so I did the next best thing: I gave her a feeling of calm. I've been doing it for days. No harm has come out of it. Tomorrow, I think she needs a sleep potion. She's not sleeping I can tell, and I think she's having night terrors." Thomas stared at the boy sitting on the couch. He couldn't even imagine how Graces would feel about all this. The past few days she had just been a shell. She would do her work, tutor, and just sit in that armchair. She didn't talk to anyone, she just sat there staring, and it was all because of a damn potion. "Think what you want of me, but I need you to slip her a calming draught tomorrow morning at breakfast and a sleeping potion at dinner. I have somewhere to be and I can't do it."

"No."

"You would rather her be so upset she can't even function?" Draco accused, standing up and walking over. "Because right now she is functioning. She is playing the game. She is smiling here, talking to Pansy and Blaise there, and getting her work done. She is in some kind of funk, and I am doing my best to make her as normal as possible. Right now, she is carrying on during the day as though things are fine, at night when it wears off she is a mess. I'm not blind. Give her the potion. Allow her to get through her day at least."

Thomas looked down as Draco towered over him. He knew it was wrong, that if Graces ever found out she would be hurt and betrayed, but he thought about how bad it would look to the Malfoy family if she behaved out in the halls as she was behaving alone here in the common room. Graces was more respected here. Even when she was not being as strong as usual, she was still seen as a pillar of strength. She didn't cry openly, she just sat doing her work looking sad. That was her being weak in the common room with the draught wearing off. Could he really rip it away from her? During school hours no one knew she was upset just by looking at her. If he refused to help Draco would she be crying in class?

Defeated by Draco's twisted logic, he held out his hand for the potion.

"Just three drops," Draco warned, "she still needs to be able to think somewhat clearly. Don't give her the whole vial." Thomas just nodded meekly and continued staring at the ground. "And... if you think you can swing it without her knowing, give her a dreamless sleeping potion in her dinner drink. She usually will refill her goblet twice with water, so you would only be able to give her two thirds of the potion, but if you offer her a hot chocolate later you would be able to give her the rest."

"R-right," Thomas rasped.

Draco sighed and stepped forward placing his hand on Thomas' shoulder.

"You swore an oath to protect my sister. She told me about it. Sometimes you have to protect someone from themselves. Graces is softer than she lets on. She can't always play the stone princess on her own."

"A-and if sh-she f-f-finds out?"

"She will slit our throats in our sleep," Draco smiled playfully. "But there are worse deaths," he shrugged before allowing Thomas to go to bed for the night.

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Thomas stood staring at Graces as she sipped her morning tea at the breakfast table. There was no way she had slept last night. Oh, she had glamored herself up well, placed blush on her cheeks, and did a multitude of illusions to make her seem as though she were fine, but her magical glamor that she had placed on her eyes was not at all up to par. They were bloodshot and she looked as though she could fall on the table at any moment to sleep.

Nervously he fingered the chocolate bar in his pocket. It was all simple enough, he had opened the wrapper, laced the chocolate, and then sealed it magically to look untouched. It was that simple. Graces would never know it had been tampered with.

"Morning, Thomas," Graces greeted, taking a long sip of her tea. "Not going to sit with your darling today?"

Thomas shrugged, and reached over for some toast and eggs. Graces just smiled kindly into her tea and continued taking small sips here and there. She seemed well enough, aside from the lack of sleep, and really a calming potion wouldn't help with that. Thomas began to wonder if he should follow through with Draco's plan at all. Graces seemed fine, and if there was no need for him to do this task then he should just leave her be.

"My mother is taking me off campus today," Pansy mused from her piece of toast. "She's making the trip over to take me out for the afternoon, just for some Sunday shopping. Would you want to go, Gray?"

"Sorry, I can't. I need to tend to my herbology project. It's not doing so well," Graces said quietly, placing her tea down and running her temples.

"Oh, come on Graces. It will be so much fun. I bet my mother will get us icecream too! And we can look at th—"

"Pansy, that all sounds great, but I really can't," Graces sighed. "I'm sorry."

Pansy pouted dejectedly for a few moment's before she perked up again.

"Longbottom! Ask Longbottom to tend to the plant! I bet he wouldn't mind. He's always in the greenhouse on Sunday mornings anyways, he loves that stuff, and he seems sweet on you! Plus, he's your partner after all and you have been spending so much time tutoring him in potions so—"

"I do not need Neville fucking Longbottom to save my plant!" Graces snapped, slamming her cup of tea down onto the table and causing it to crack. Pansy and him exchanged a quick glance to one another, both silently seeing if the other was noticing the changes in their friend. "I'm sorry," Graces whispered, magically fixing her cup, and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I-I just am a bit tired and I just don't want to talk to Longbottom anymore than I have to. It's Sunday," Graces said quietly. "I think I'm entitled to a peaceful Sunday."

Thomas and Pansy both just nodded awkwardly, both unsure of what to say. Pansy eventually put on a fake smile and said she needed to get ready, leaving Thomas alone with Graces who just stirred her eggs around on her plate.

"Why aren't you sitting with Arisanti?"

_Because I'm going to try and drug you._ Thomas shrugged, and took a sip of his tea. _Now or never..._ Casually he took out a chocolate frog, and began nibbling in it's head. As though he were the one with a sweet tooth that ate candy in the mornings. After a few moments he took out another one and offered it over to the girl sitting next to him.

"No thanks, I made myself sick off chocolate the other day, so I'm taking a break from it."

_Shit. Shit-shit-shit._ Thomas moved the chocolate frog over to her and waved his hand indicating that she could have it later, but Graces didn't take the bait. She just smiled smally and told him he was a sweetheart and that she was fine.

It was as she picked up her bag and said she was going to go work on her plant that Thomas began to really worry. If Draco had indeed given her that potion for days coming off it like this, with little sleep, and still the same troubles may make her even more upset. But he couldn't force her to eat the chocolate.

"I'll see you later, Mr. Higgs," Graces called, trying to sound playful, but her appearance and voice not quite giving that affect. Instead Thomas felt a sense of foreboding.

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Neville stared sadly down at Graces' dying plants. He had no idea what she had done to it, but whatever she did it was bad. The leaves were yellowing, it wasn't reacting to touch, it was as though the plant had given up on life.

_Temperature is fine. Soil looks good. Good lighting, she could have positioned these ones better, but not too bad. Did she put any charms on to keep pests away?... Hmmmm, maybe they weren't strong enough..._

With that thought the Gryffindor began running diagnostic spells around the plant, as well as throwing in a few spells he had learned from his Uncle Algie to try and improve Graces' project.

"What are you doing?" A cold voice asked from behind. Neville inwardly cursed as he realized he had been caught by Graces. Slowly he turned around, and flinched when he saw the amount of anger in the girl before him. "I asked you a question, Longbottom. What the bloody hell are you doing to my plants?!"

"I was just trying to help," Neville declared, tightening his jaw. "In case it escaped your notice they are dying."

"I don't need your help," Graces spat, pushing Neville aside and standing between him and the plants.

"They're dying," Neville stressed slowly, moving his chin down and giving Graces a stern look. "Just let me finish up and I'll get out of your hair."

Neville moved to continue, but Graces moved as well blocking any advances.

"Get away from my plants." Graces growled. "I don't need your help, Longbottom. Take a day off from being the bloody hero."

"Trust me, I wish I could," Neville heaved, moving Graces out of the way and checking the leaves on the plant. He continued trying to piece together what could possibly be causing the plant to die, all the while continuing to ignore the girl beside him.

"You can't do this," Graces hissed. "You can't have space and barge into my life like this. You—"

"I'm not barging in on your life," Neville objected, obviously exasperated. "I am simply helping my herbology partner, nothing more."

"Right," Graces gritted. "Nothing more." Neville paid no mind to Graces' words and took out his want to try and fix the plant in front of him, but before he could do anything Graces snatched his wand away and tossed it across the room.

"You have got to be kidding me," Neville seethed.

"Get. Out."

Neville turned towards the door and started striding over, he probably should have walked out, left Graces alone, given himself space to cool off, but he didn't. Instead he plucked up his wand and with a more determined stride headed back.

"What is your issue?" Graces screeched. "Just get out. Take your space and leave. I don't want your help. I don't want you around me. Get out!" Neville just continued to ignore Graces' childish temper tantrum and continued to work on the plants. He had just started looking over the leaf for nerve damage, when the pot was whisked away and thrown to the floor, shattering the clay pot and leaving an explosion of soil, roots and leaves in its wake. Before he could even process what was happening Graces was grabbing pot after pot of her plants and destroying each one, throwing them down onto the greenhouse floor.

"Have you completely lost it?" Neville cried, taking a step back as Graces began stomping on the clumps of soil that clinged to the roots.

"No, I. Have. Not!" Graces stomped.

"Stop it! Malfoy, stop it!" Neville was trying to get Graces to stop. Holding her arms and moving her away from the ruined plants.

"Oh, so I'm Malfoy now," Graces snarled, tearing herself away. "No longer Graces?"

Neville swallowed hard and closed his eyes, praying for the strength to continue on with gaining what he needed. When he opened his eyes Graces was standing before him, her lips pursed together tightly, as tears streamed down her face.

"Just leave," Graces gritted furiously. "Leave. I know you want to, so go ahead." Neville looked down at the broken pots and pants covering the floor, the same floor that they had once laid together on. "Its not your mess to worry about. It's mine. You can leave."

Neville took a step forward. It could all end here, he could hold her close right now, kiss her lips and declare that he didn't want to go. That he wanted to stay here in this mess with her. He could tell that despite her telling him to leave she wanted him to stay. He took in her bared teeth and her dirt covered clenched hands and knew that she was hurting and she was choosing to feel anger. With one movement he could take all her hurt and anger away.

But he didn't. Instead he turned and walked out the door.

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"I don't understand," Professor Sprout repeated slowly. "You lost your temper... with a _plant_." Professor Sprout watched as the young Malfoy nodded her head in agreement. It didn't make sense. Neville's half of the project was in perfect health, and Graces' half wasn't even there for her to look over. She wasn't even able to see what had caused the plant to die. When she asked Graces where the plant was she had only blushed and muttered that she had "lost her temper with it."

"So... when you say you lost your temper with the plant you mean you..."

"Threw the pot to the ground and stomped on it," Graces admitted quietly, toying with her left finger.

"Maybe we could look in the trash and I can evaluate the leaves left on it," Professor Sprout thought out loud, not wanting to fail Graces outright on the project when she had been doing so well and trying so hard.

"We could," Graces said hesitantly. "If I hadn't lit the bin on fire after I tossed it..."

"Oh Gods, child, you didn't?" Professor Sprout sighed as Graces bit her lip and nodded that she had in fact done just that. "I can't give you any credit for over half the project without a plant to evaluate. I can only grade your paper, meaning you failed this whole assignment. Why did you do such a stupid and rash thing?"

"I don't know."

"I won't accept that," Professor Sprout clipped, not at all wanting to allow the girl in front of her to just move on from such a poor decision. "I want to know why."

"I-I just became frustrated. I had done everything correct. The temperature, the soil, the lighting, handling the pods delicately, everything, and the plant continued to die... I just became frustrated..."

"Why didn't you ask your partner for help?" The stout professor then turned and stared at Neville who had not said a word during all this. "Why didn't you help her? Surely, you noticed her half of the project was dying. Why didn't you help her?"

"She didn't want my help," Neville mumbled quietly, staring down at the table.

Professor Sprout stood dumbfounded at the two students in front of her. She was about to start reprimanding Graces, but as she stared at the girl before her she couldn't find it in her. She looked like a wreck. The herbology professor knew that the girl in front of her must be going through a lot. Having her father locked up, and news of his trial being plastered all over the papers. And only the gods knew how much it was affecting her. Snape certainly was keeping tight lipped over the students in his house. The rest of the faculty discussed the issues that the war was bringing to their students, but Snape never mentioned a word.

"See me after class, Miss Malfoy," Professor Sprout ordered, moving away from the girl and continuing on to the next plant.

Professor Sprout sat at her desk and watched her only Slytherin of that year as she took her exam on the unit. She knew that Graces was a bright witch, that she was trying in her class, and that she understood the material, but she didn't know the girl. Not really. She liked her though.

She liked that she tried. Graces had a black thumb, she had realized that her first year, but despite it the blonde passed and she passed on her own merit. Professor Sprout had many times wondered if she would see Lucius Malfoy in her office demanding his daughter to receive a better grade or something of that nature, but it had never once happened. If Graces did poorly on a project she asked to come in and have what she did wrong explained to her. If she was struggling with a concept she asked for more books. She never asked for her grade to be bumped up.

But still. These were all reasonable expectations of a student. None of these reasons were anything special as to why the Professor enjoyed the Malfoy girl in her class. What made her particularly fond of the girl was her reaction after receiving a grade from an assignment that had been particularly hard for her. The first time Professor Sprout had given Graces a barely passing mark, she thought the girl would be upset. After all she had worked harder than anyone else in the class and her plants still refused to bloom correctly. But Graces hadn't ever looked disappointed. She would take the score card with a look of great apprehension, and upon seeing the passing score her eyes would light up and a small smile would peek out from the corner of her mouth. She was proud. Graces Malfoy was a privileged girl that had the world at her fingertips, and she still took pride in what she earned, what she worked hard for. And, as the head of Hufflepuff, Professor Sprout could appreciate such characteristics.

As the class ended she waited patiently for Graces to approach her. She was surprised that she hadn't come up to her desk right away and instead lingered putting her things away. Her partner on the other hand looked as though he were going to bulldoze someone down to get to the door. That was odd, Neville usually didn't rush out of her class.

"You wanted to see me," Graces reminded unnecessarily, approaching the desk. The older woman continued examining the girl in front of her. The voice and stance were so very much like her father: arrogant, proud, stoic. But Narcissa was in there too: soft, quiet, and expressive eyes.

"Are you alright?" Graces flinched at the question, causing the older woman to smile sympathetically. "I understand that this year must be hard for you, with your father's incarceration and-"

"I am fine," Graces interrupted coldly, her gray eyes clouding dangerously. "Thank you for your concern, Professor, but it is not needed."

"You don't seem fine," Professor Sprout continued. "And you don't look fine either. You look as though you haven't slept in days. Graces, if something is bothering you I just want you to know you can talk to me."

"It's noted," Graces clipped cooly, staring down at the Professor with a tightened jaw. "May I leave now?"

"No, not yet," the Hufflepuff sighed, realizing she was getting the Lucius side of the girl. "I still do need to discuss your grade." This seemed to be a more comfortable subject for Graces, because she placed her bag down and took a seat. "I can't give you any credit for a plant you don't have. And because you and Mr. Longbottom decided to divide the work I can't give you credit for his as well." Graces nodded in understanding and waited patiently for the professor to continue, clearly ready to hear the news that she was going to fail this unit. "I can't give you a passing grade on this assignment, Graces. I am very sorry, but it's just not possible without the plant. If you had still had the plant even if it were dying that would have been better."

Professor Sprout sighed as Graces just nodded along sadly.

"You're a bright witch, Graces Malfoy, exceptionally hard working and fiercely determined. I like that, but what you did was very stupid. And it only hurt you in the end. Why didn't you just ask your partner for help? Neville is in here all the time, he would not have minded."

"I didn't want Longbottom to save me," Graces muttered darkly. "I wanted to do it myself."

"I don't understand," Professor Sprout gaped. "You were doing so well with Neville as your partner. Why would you stop working together on the assignments? I even thought you two were getting along, friendly even at times." Sprout realized the last sentence was definitely not helping her as Graces glared across the desk. "Oh, come come Miss Malfoy, you have to admit it isn't so horrible working with Neville. I have even caught you smiling on occasion."

"Do you see us smiling together now?" Graces asked, a challenging eyebrow raised.

"No, not lately," Professor Sprout admitted. "Still, why have you two stopped working more closely together?"

"Because I am a Malfoy, and he is a Longbottom," Graces declared, standing up and gathering her things. "I very much regret my mistake, Professor, and let me assure you it will not happen again. I really should be heading to my classes now though."

"Right," Sprout nodded. "Of course. Just bear in mind that you now have very limited room for failure. Being partners with Mr. Longbottom has allotted you a very nice grade, but this assignment has really taken that grade down. It would be wise to go back to working as you two were before. Understand?"

Graces nodded and walked out of the greenhouse, not even bothering to ask for an excusal slip. Professor Sprout wondered if she should talk to Severus, and then decided she would rather not have to deal with the potion master's unpleasant mood.

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Neville stared at the ceiling of his dorm room. He had debated going to the common room with the rest of his house, but really there was no point. He hadn't been able to properly interact with people for days. All he did was sit there thinking of Graces and how much he missed her. He missed their playful banter, their long discussions about nothing and how Graces always listened to him. If he started prattling on and on about something he read about a plant, she would sit there hanging on every word. He never had to be embarrassed or shy with her. If he did, for whatever reason, say something silly she would just laugh and tease him for it. He still was hearing about "thank you". Neville smiled as he thought about Graces' constant need to remind him about his awkward statement. What had been one of his most embarrassing moments had now turned into a private inside joke.

"There's that smile we've all been missing." Neville sat up to see Dean strolling over to his bed. "Are you out of your foul mood now?"

"Foul mood?" Neville asked.

"Yeah, foul mood. That's what it's called when you don't want to talk to your mates and you spend your meal hours scowling into your food."

Neville blushed at his behavior and began to babble apologies, but Dean just waved them all away.

"It's fine, Nev. Not like we all have been desperately seeking your attention. Ron has been snogging Lavender, I've been busy snogging Ginny, I think Seamus is trying to get something to happen with Parvati, and Harry has been obsessing over Malfoy."

Neville tried to ignore the sting of guilt that pierced his heart at the last statement. Harry was right, and he wasn't going to tell him. Harry who could be responsible for saving the wizarding world, who needed all the information he could get, and he was withholding the knowledge that there was indeed a Death Eater at hogwarts.

_Graces needs Draco. He is the only person she has anymore, you cannot take him away from her. You cannot strip her family of the last person who is able to protect them._

_This is so wrong..._

_Do you want to be right? Fine, tell him. Just be prepared to see the girl you love lowered into an early grave. That's if they ever even find the body. Susan Bone's aunt is still missing._

"You okay, Nev? You look a bit pale there."

"I'm fine," Neville rasped, wanting to get away from his current thoughts. "How are things with you and Ginny?"

"Grand when we're not fighting." Neville raised an eyebrow at Dean's tone. "I like that she has a bit of a feistiness to her, but other times it's just hard to deal with. She can be like Ron sometimes. Sometimes I don't even know what I did to set her off!"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Neville chuckled.

"Do you now?" Dean asked frowning.

Neville blushed and muttered something about his gran and how he could relate, and was relieved when Dean just nodded. He wished he could have just laughed and said his girl was the same and told Dean about the ridiculousness that was Graces Malfoy, how if someone so much as touched his arm she became peeved or how they were not in a relationship. They were friends that enjoyed shagging each other.

"So yeah, we're fighting right now," Dean continued, not realizing that Neville hadn't been listening.

"Oh, umm, sorry, mate. That's rough..."

"Yeah, it is... but hey," Dean continued, a sly smile forming on his face. "Making up is always fun."

Neville tried not to smile to widely at how true that statement was.

"So, you planning on just moping in here all day?"

"Nothing else to do really," Neville shrugged.

"I can think of something for us to do," Dean said with a grin.

A few hours later and it was official. Neville was pissed. And not pissed as in mad, pissed as in had drank way too much with Dean.

"I haven't been this drunk since September," Neville slurred.

"You got pissed in September? Really?"

"Yeah," Neville chuckled. "Best night of my life."

"Why was it the best?"

"I may be drunk mate, but I'm not drunk enough to tell you that," Neville laughed, causing Dean to just frown, perplexed. "I'm starved. I haven't ate in days."

"Let's go find the kitchen then."

"You're mad, we're piss drunk and you want to stumble through the halls to find the kitchen?"

"Where's your Gryffindor courage, Neville?" Dean teased. "What, you can battle at the ministry, but not leave the dorm drunk?"

"I'm more scared of my gran than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Neville deadpanned. "Or Snape. I do not want to get caught piss drunk by Snape."

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"Let me get this straight, Higgs," Draco gritted, trying desperately hard to regain his temper. "You were unable to give my sister a potion yesterday, and most of today so in a last effort to at least give her a sleeping potion you made her some hot cocoa and put it in a thermos. Am I following you correctly?"

Thomas nodded his head nervously.

"Then after you gave her the thermos she declared she was going to go to the library to read?" Thomas nodded again in confirmation. "Then when she didn't return you checked the library and couldn't find her."

Thomas was now much too frightened to move let alone nod. Draco's nostrils were flaring out and a dangerous tremble was now absorbing his body.

"So the assumption is that my sister is passed out somewhere in the castle."

"Or o-o-outs-side of it."

"Thomas, you better pray to the gods and goddesses she is not outside of these walls."

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"I'm telling you I heard it was by the Hufflepuff common room."

"Yes, I heard that," Neville grumbled, "but you don't know where their common room is so that's a pretty useless tidbit."

"Stop your whining, Longbottom," Dean grinned. "You're having fun. Admit it."

"Maybe," Neville admitted, sending his friend a small smile.

"So what is it that has had you so upset lately?"

"Nothing. I think I'm just a bit stressed over classes," Neville lied.

"Look, Nev, I get you like your privacy and all, but maybe it would help to talk about it."

"It really wouldn't," Neville maintained. "Trust me, Dean, you don't want to know."

The darker boy opened his mouth to argue, but then stopped as he noticed someone on the castle floor.

"Is that Malfoy?" Dean asked in surprise. But no answer came, because Neville was already running forward. Dean quickly ran to catch up, though he had no idea what to do. Neville seemed beside himself though. "Is she dead? Or petrified?"

"She is not dead," Neville snarled. "Don't even think that."

"Sorry, I—"

"She's just sleeping. That's all; she's asleep."

Dean took a step back as Neville lifted Graces up. He was right. The blonde was sleeping, and apparently very cuddly as she slept. Dean laughed as Graces buried her nose in Neville's shirt and let out a content sigh. Neville blushed, but to Dean's surprise he seemed a bit pleased with Graces reaction.

"Do—do you think she was drugged?" Neville stammered, looking frightened.

"No, no," Dean reassured. "Look how we found her. Slumped against the wall holding a book with some hot cocoa. She must have just drifted off during her prefect rounds or something."

"But she's not waking up," Neville continued, giving the girl a small shake causing her to groan sleepily and try to turn more into Neville's chest to hide her face.

"She's fine, just sleeping. She almost seems sweet when she's asleep," Dean commented. "Like Sleeping Beauty or Snow White."

"Who?" Neville whispered, adjusting his hold so he had a better grip under the blonde's legs.

"They're fairy tales, I mean, ummm, children's tales, my mum tells my sisters. They're about these princesses that are put under spells by witches that cause them to sleep forever until these handsome princes find them and kiss them."

"Why would a witch put a spell like that on anyone?" Neville asked offhandedly. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Because they were jealous of the princesses' beauty," Dean shrugged.

"They could polyjuice themselves then. Or glamour themselves to be prettier," Neville argued. "No witch would do that."

"It's just some silly children's story, Neville," Dean pointed out annoyed. "Don't take it so seriously."

"How can you say that? You're a wizard. Do you really think it's okay for us to be made into villains like that?"

"Neville, it's just a story. Let it go."

Neville didn't particularly want to let it go. He had heard that muggles told fey tales about them being these evil malicious beings, and it was impossible for him to not let that strike a chord. He looked down at Graces and knew she would feel the same.

"So... these princes would just find these girls, asleep, as though they were dead and kiss them?"

"Basically," Dean shrugged.

"And you don't find that odd? Kissing a girl when she's at her most vulnerable without her knowledge."

"You make it sound like they were violating them or something,' Dean laughed, clearly not thinking much of the story.

"Well, they were weren't they? I mean. If you kissed Graces right now, you would be violating her. She has no power to stop you. It's taking advantage."

"Neville, you're overthinking this," Dean groaned.

"I don't think I am," Neville murmured quietly, remembering Graces passed out in the woods. "I would never kiss a girl I didn't know while she slept. It's just wrong."

"Well, I suppose that's good for Malfoy here," Dean laughed. "What should we do with her?"

"I don't know," Neville shrugged. "We can't leave her here. Maybe we could take her to our dorms. She could sleep in my bed." Dean stared at Neville as though he had lost his mind. "What?"

"We cannot take Graces Malfoy to our dorm, Neville. Blimey, sometimes I wonder about you."

"Well then what should we do?" Neville snapped.

"Take her to Pomfrey," Dean suggested, like it was the most obvious answer.

"Yeah, great plan. Let's show up smelling like firewhisky in the hospital wing."

"Fine!" Dean shouted. "Then an abandoned classroom. We can put her in one of those."

"I am not discarding her in a cold dingy classroom," Neville growled. "She's coming with us. She can sleep in my bed where she will be warm and safe. I am not leaving her abandoned in a school that is famous for its students almost dying every year. And you know what, I don't think she is just sleeping. She would have woken up if she were just sleeping."

"Maybe she's a heavy sleeper," Dean offered.

"She's not."

"How would you know? Maybe she is."

Neville stopped himself from arguing. Really, he had never seen Graces sleep. She always disappeared after. He wracked his brain for an answer anyways. Like saying no one could sleep this sound, but then he thought of Ron and that rebuttal went out the window.

"I just don't want to leave her. It doesn't feel right to leave her."

"Harry and Ron are going to kill us," Dean moaned. "I hope you are ready for that, Neville."

"I have a feeling Malfoy will kill us first," Neville chuckled, turning to head back to the Gryffindor tower. He and Dean had just reached the stairs when Thomas Higgs descended down the last few steps.

The young boy stared at both Gryffindors and Neville felt the hair on the end of his neck raise as the dark haired boy's eyes fell on Graces.

"We found her in a hallway," Dean explained, his eyes shifting from Neville to Thomas.

Neville wondered if there were classes for intimidation in the Slytherin house, as Thomas tilted his head to glare at Dean. Neville, without thinking, took a step back from the boy. A step that he regretted as soon as he went to take a second and realized he had been sticky charmed in place.

"Seriously?" he exclaimed. "Is that really necessary."

"What?" Dean asked, looking from Neville to Thomas.

"He sticky charmed me in place!"

"I don't see his wand," Dean argued, looking over at the young boy standing beside him.

"He doesn't need one." All three boys looked down the hall to see Draco striding over angrily. "Longbottom, why the hell are you taking my sister to Gryffindor tower? Put her down."

"I, uh, I—ow!" Neville shrieked, bending forward and hiding his face as Draco sent some sort of hex towards him. "What was that for!"

"Babbling on like an idiot and not putting my sister down," Draco hissed, directly in Neville's face.

"Hey, back off Malfoy," Dean growled, pushing the blonde boy away. "We weren't—"

"Don't touch me," Draco spat. "Keep your muddy hands to yourself."

"Watch it, Malfoy, or I'll—"

Dean didn't get a chance to finish his threat, before he could utter another syllable, Thomas had placed a binding and silencing charm on him. This time though, he did use his wand.

"Thank you, Thomas," Draco smirked, returning his gray eyes to Neville.

Neville clutched Graces tighter to himself as he stared into Draco's identical eyes. It was so surreal to be looking at those eyes glaring at him with an unlimited amount of hate, and being reminded of Graces. Neville moved his eyes away and tried to focus on another thing. But Draco had the same cheeks, the same skin, the same color hair, and the same temperament when angry apparently too.

"Longbottom, are you going to answer my question, and hand over my sister?" Draco whispered dangerously.

"Draco, do shut up. I'm trying to sleep," Graces groaned, moving her hand around as though she were absently trying to swat him away.

Neville's eyebrows raised at Graces' declaration, as did Draco's.

"Guess she didn't finish the cocoa," Draco murmured.

"You drugged her?" Neville hissed, making a motion forward, but pausing as he realized he was still stickied in place. "What's wrong with you?"

"Mind your own business, Longbottom," Draco whispered darkly, placing his hands under his sister's frame to take her. Neville flinched as he felt Draco's left arm brush against his, and he turned Graces away. "What do you think you are doing?"

"You can't drug her!" Neville reprimanded. "You just can't. What if someone found her, someone who wanted to hurt her and—"

"Why would anyone want to hurt my sister?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"You know why," Graces mumbled. "Cause our father was an even greater arse than Longbottom here. Now be quiet. I haven't slept in days. Longbottom," Graces yawned, "Make Draco be quiet. I'm so sleepy."

"Give me my sister, Longbottom," Draco repeated, his jaw tightening. "She is not your concern, she's mine."

Neville begrudgingly held Graces out, and stiffened as she grabbed his shirt, so Draco couldn't pull her away.

"Draco, I want to stay with Longbottom," Graces whined, not bothering to open her eyes. "He's soft, like a giant pillow."

Neville flushed at the comment and really wished that he had his wand so he could hex Thomas for his giggle as he eyed his stomach.

"I don't think Longbottom wants you to use him for your pillow," Draco muttered irritatedly, trying to peel his sister's fingers away from Neville's shirt.

"No," Graces yawned. "Probably not. He would want his space... He's a bit of an arse."

"I agree," Draco smiled, "That being said, why don't you let go of him and come with me."

"I don't want to choose," Graces muttered, drifting away again.

"Graces?" Draco frowned. "What did you say?"

Graces shook her head for a second as though trying to shake her sleep away, but it was no use. Her eyes fluttered closed as fast as they had been open.

"Give me to my brother," she whispered against Neville's chest. "I belong with him. I don't belong with you. Even though you're so soft. I can't stay," she continued gently, her hand loosening from his shirt. Neville hoped no one could see the pain etched on his face as Draco reached out and took her in his arms.

"Thomas, I'm no longer going to strangle you," Draco drawled, hoisting Graces up higher so his grip wouldn't slip. "I am instead going to tell Graces all the things she said because of you and then I shall let her kill you instead."

Thomas looked over at Graces for a moment and gulped audibly, clearly not at all excited for Draco's new plan. Both Slytherins turned away without so much as a second glance at the two Gryffindors.

"You were going to take her to our dorm, let her sleep in your bed, to ensure she was safe, and they can't even bother with a thank you?" Dean muttered darkly, after Thomas waved him free from down the hall.

"It doesn't matter," Neville sighed. "Let's just go to bed."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Neville lied, already missing the feeling of being close to Graces. He could feel his magic hammering against his skin. It demanded to be near her again, threatening to tear him apart for the opportunity, but Neville just ignored that feeling. He was being foolish. He wanted space to figure things out and one second of holding Graces made him want to damn it all and just be with her, not caring about his emotional state or even the complications that it would cause for them. He didn't know if he could be all Graces needed, he was barely able to tend to himself. He needed to think. Love couldn't be enough to fix everything. It just couldn't be. The world didn't work like that. Loving Graces, while it was the most joyous feeling in the world, was like going through a field of flowers with poisoned thorns and expecting not to get pricked.

By the time he crawled into bed, his magic had become morose once again. Neville laid there and felt it out for a few minutes. He focused on the feeling of emptiness that was consuming him from the chest out, and when the thought occurred to him that maybe this feeling had always been there, but Graces had been the one to start filling it he turned into his pillow and allowed himself to shed a few tears.


	36. Chapter 36

Neville took in a deep breath as he approached his desk with Graces. One day. All he had to do was get through one more class with her and it would be the weekend. He could spend some time away from her, clear his head and make a decision about what to do by Monday. He just needed to get through this class.

"Good morning," Graces said awkwardly, glancing at him before looking forward. Neville nodded, but didn't repeat the greeting. "Listen, I know you still want your space, but I just wanted to thank—"

"Can we please just not talk right now?" Neville requested, getting his notes out.

"You don't want to discuss anything about yesterday?" Graces asked, a hint of hurt in her voice.

"No, I don't," Neville maintained, placing his papers down and sighing. "Your brother and friend are both idiots for drugging you, but other than that—"

"What are you talking about?" Graces frowned. "They didn't drug me. I just fell asleep in the hall."

Neville stared at Graces for a few moments. _Surely she was told wasn't she?_

"I think you need to talk to your brother," Neville muttered, looking forward. He didn't need to be looking at Graces to know she was devastated. Draco was her everything. He was her hero, her friend, her savior, her shoulder to lean on. He was so much more than just her brother, and hearing that he had drugged her, that he had conspired to do so with her friend, would naturally be a hard blow.

Unable to keep himself from worrying, he looked over to see how Graces was taking the news. She didn't seem like she was. She looked as though she wasn't quite processing what he had just said. She looked confused and disoriented, so much so that Professor Sprout was beside her thinking she just wasn't understanding the instructions. It was obvious that each word the Professor said was just going in one ear and out the other. Graces was trying to juggle her own thoughts and was being overwhelmed.

"I-I have it, Professor. Thank you," Graces dismissed, her voice sounding as though it had been scratched. Professor Sprout sent him a wayward glance before nodding unsurely and walking over to the next desk.

Graces breathed a sigh of relief that the professor had finally left her. It was easier to grab a hold of herself without someone fussing over her every move. It was all so unreal. Draco drugged her. He drugged her, and from what it sounds like Thomas must have known. They had both told her that they had gone looking for her in the halls the other night, worried sick, and that they found her asleep with Longbottom and Thomas taking her somewhere. Then after they told her about how dangerous it was for her to be falling asleep like that they had convinced her to allow them to give her a sleeping draught at night, until she started to sleep better. They lied to her. She had never denied herself sleep to the point of passing out. They had drugged her. But the oddest part of this whole scenario was that she didn't think twice before believing Neville over them.

Neville had become her closest friend. He probably thought she told him very little, but in reality she told him more than anyone else. These days she couldn't even be honest with Draco about how she felt, but she revealed more to Neville. She allowed him to see her at her weakest moments, and she, in her own way, relied on him.

She wished he would look at her. But he didn't. He focused on his work and pretended she didn't exist. She was nothing, isolated in a world full of life. She wanted to open her mouth and tell him that she needed him, that she wanted him, that he was the only joy in her life and, although it was pathetic, he was the only friend she could talk to, but nothing came out.

She couldn't say any of it. And it wasn't because of the people around them, she could talk low enough to not be heard. She couldn't say it because she could hardly admit it to herself let alone out loud.

As Neville began packing up to leave she felt the familiar grip of longing take hold of her. It was so strong, she knew he would leave as quickly as possible. A blur of color as he darted to the door.

"Can-can you just pack slowly, please?"

Graces watched as Neville stilled at her pathetic request. A huge part of her was horrified at what she had just done, but she was beginning to not care. Neville was still there and if he did pack slowly it would be worth it for the few more moments she gained with him.

But he didn't stay. Instead he grabbed his bag and left. Not bothering to even pack all of his possessions

Neville pushed through the crowded halls of the castle. A blur of students and outraged calls were around him, but he just burrowed through. Determined to get away from it all to think.

Nothing was getting easier. There didn't seem to be a right answer. Logically he needed to stay away from Graces Malfoy. Not only to protect his heart, but to protect his family who would all be put in jeopardy if he got involved with a girl whose whole family was under the threat of death. But his heart didn't seem to want the protection from the girl it craved. It pounded in his chest for her. It longed for the small amount of time it spent near her, and it broke a little every time he tried to pull away from her.

Neville wondered if he was tearing away at his own soul being away from her. He was not acting like a good man. He was bitter and cruel. He sought isolation even though his friends crowded near to try and distract him from whatever was plaguing him. He despised his duty to his family and had been refusing to write back to his gran on important matters. All he did these days was curse fate for making the woman of his dreams a Malfoy.

Neville leaned behind a large statue and tried to keep from crying as Graces' small request repeated again and again in his head. He should have stayed. She needed him. He should have stayed.

"Draco!"

Neville froze as he heard Graces' voice call out from somewhere in the distance. He looked around, but the hall he was in was empty. _They must be in the next hall over_ , he thought already moving out from the statue to see the encounter. Neville peeked around the corner to see both twins arguing heatedly. Draco was obviously not pleased with Graces angrily shouting at him, and was doing his best to not show any sort of emotion as she continued to berate him. It wasn't until Graces raised her hand and smacked him hard across the face did Draco show any hint of emotion.

Neville winced as Draco cranked his neck forward and stared at his sister a red angry hand print stained on his skin. He was determined. If Graces was expecting an apology for his actions, it was obvious in that moment she was not going to get one. Draco obviously felt that what he had done had been the right decision, and when Graces smacked him again he didn't flinch, by the third time she raised her hand he caught her wrist and said something so quietly that even the people around him didn't seem able to hear. Graces tore her hand away and began stomping away only pausing to look at Thomas for a moment with the same amount of fury she had shown Draco. The young boy looked down from Graces' stare though, clearly unable to hide his shame.

Neville felt bad for Higgs, as Graces made a sound of disgust and walked away, unlike Draco he didn't appear able to hide how badly he felt. For a moment he wondered if the small boy was going to go running after her, but Draco gave him a stern look and after that he headed up a staircase to his class. The rest of the hall began to clear out as well, but Draco did not continue down with any of the other herds of students. Instead he turned towards the hall that Neville was in.

Neville pressed himself between the castle wall and the statue, praying that Draco wouldn't notice his shadow along the floor. After he heard the blond's footsteps pass by he slowly emerged from his hiding spot and, in a typical Gryffindor split decision, followed him.

_I'm turning into Harry. What the hell am I doing?_ Neville thought as he shadowed Draco all the way up to the second floor. A shiver went down his spine as he realized they were almost to the girl's lavatory where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was hidden. _We're not seriously going in there. Come on, Draco. Don't go in there. Don't go in there. Don't go—Of course. Of course you would go in there._

Neville stared at the entrance and wondered if he wanted to know what it was Draco was doing in there. Graces had said Draco had a task, was his task having to do with the Chamber? If he went in there would he find out? Did he want to find out?

Neville groaned inwardly as he quietly opened the door and stepped into the bathroom.

Draco's sobs echoed off the marble walls and floors. Heaves of breaths were followed by rattled moans. Neville warily edged to the nearest stall and slipped inside, lifting his feet up to stand on the toilet so Draco wouldn't see.

"Are you okay?" Moaning Myrtle asked, staring down into the stall where Draco was.

"Better than you," Draco spat. "Go away."

"You're in my toilet, I can't go away." Draco groaned, and continued on with his crying. Each breath more wretched than the last.

"Can I ask you something?" Draco croaked.

"You can," Myrtle said pleasantly, clearly happy to have company.

"Did-did it hurt? You know... to die?"

"Oh, it was dreadful. The worst thing imaginable. I was in this stall, sitting where you are right now crying and—"

Myrtle stopped her tale as Draco began crying even harder. Neville wondered if he was actually choking on his sobs until he began speaking.

"Oh, Gods. Oh gods," he hiccuped. "What am I going to do? I don't want her to hurt. I don't want her to hurt. It's all my fault. I can't let her die, but I can't do it. I can't do it."

"Hey-hey, don't cry. It's okay," Myrtle tried to comfort.

"It's not okay. She hates me. She hates me right now, and she doesn't even realize how much I deserve it. She's mad at me for something stupid, she's mad at me for taking care of her, she has no idea she should be mad at me for killing her. My baby sister is going to die and it's because I'm too weak to do what needs to be done. I'm failing her. It was one thing when it was me. When they were bullying and hurting me all summer, but it can't happen to Graces. It can't. If they see her as weak... I can't let them think she's weak. They can't know she's fragile. They can't. I was just trying to get her to sleep. People are talking. They're talking and she doesn't even realize it."

Draco continued on with his babbling despite Myrtle howling that she had no idea what he was saying, that none of it made sense. It made sense to Neville though. Draco was failing at whatever task he was supposed to do, and Graces was the one that would pay for it. Now he understood why Draco had taken such actions to drug her. He didn't agree with it, he felt like he should have told Graces what was happening, but he understood it. He needed her to be stronger, and she wasn't acting strong.

"I don't know what to do," Draco moaned. "I don't know what to do."

"Just tell me what's going on and we can figure it out together," Myrtle said gently.

"I can't tell you," Draco whimpered. "I can't tell anyone. I'm alone."

Myrtle said nothing for the longest time. Both the ghost and Neville just stood there silently listening to Draco's crys. Neville was torn between getting up and knocking on Draco's stall door and trying to comfort him, but then he realized doing that may lead to a disastrous encounter.

_I could tell Graces. She would surely want to know and—_

_Would you want that? Would you want someone going over your head as the patriarch? He's not telling her for a reason. It's not your place to tell her. It would be wrong. He's trying to be strong, and you are considering telling her he's not. This is Draco's family. He has the right to handle this situation._

_He's saying she may die, surely she at least should know—_

_She does know. She said, "He is going to let Draco be killed and slaughter the rest of us." She knows, and I knew. What is wrong with me? Why don't I listen?_

"It doesn't hurt." Neville raised his head as he heard Myrtle's gently voice. "Really it doesn't. It's like falling asleep, only you're a bit frightened. It didn't hurt, though."

"You don't need to lie to me," Draco rasped. "I can take the truth. I'm not a child."

"I'm not lying," Myrtle continued. "The fear is the worst part of it all, but other than that... It's nothing." There was a long silence, where the only noise was the faint sounds of Draco sniffing and take long breaths, clearly getting a hold of himself. "Do you feel better?"

"No, not really," Draco said numbly.

"Is your sister really going to die?"

"No," Draco declared, a bit of life coming back to his voice. "No, she won't. I'm not going to allow that. I just need to refocus that's all."

"You could tell me about whatever it is," Myrtle said shyly. "Really you could. I-I wouldn't tell a soul. I really don't have a soul to tell. You could talk to me."

"I really can't," Draco sighed sadly. "But, uh, thanks, I guess," he added awkwardly.

"You know... no one ever comes in here," Myrtle pointed out. "Well, Harry used to come in, but he stopped. He doesn't visit me. I asked him to. Multiple times, but I don't think he likes me very much."

"Potter is an idiot," Draco clipped harshly. "Don't let anything he does get to you."

"Yes, well, anyways, I was thinking maybe you could visit. I could listen to your worries, and you don't have to tell me everything, but you could just talk. I would like the company."

"Why did Potter come in?" Draco asked, sidestepping the invite.

"I can't tell you. It's a secret. I don't tell secrets."

"I see," Draco chuckled half-heartedly. "I should go. I have things I need to do."

"Oh, okay," Myrtle breathed sadly. "Well, good bye."

Neville watched as Draco emerged from the stall, he wiped his eyes for a moment and soothed his hair back down. He was about to walk away from Myrtle, who had descended down, but at the last minute he looked back and stared at her. Neville wished he could see more of Draco's face. However he was staring at Myrtle was making the ghost feel very awkward though. After a few moments more Draco continued walking away, stopping by the door.

"I'll come visit you, Myrtle," he promised quietly. "If you keep my secrets I'll keep you company."

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"Good evening, my sweet."

"Go away, Blaise. I'm not in the mood," Graces clipped turning another page of her book.

"Oh, darling you're never in the mood. I shall die without the knowledge of what it is like to make love to a beautiful woman."

"Please," Graces snorted. "If you're a virgin, I'm a muggle."

"When have I ever pretended to be innocent!?" Blaise exclaimed, taking a seat beside Graces and moving her legs so they were resting on his lap. "I am far from innocent, my love. I have done many many things to many girls, but I swear to you I have never made love."

Graces fidgeted nervously as Blaise ran the edge of his fingers along her calf, causing the dark skinned boy to chuckle.

"Always nervous."

"You purposely try to make me nervous," Graces blushed.

"Perhaps," Blaise ginned. "But have I ever crossed the boundaries?"

"Of course not," Graces frowned. "Unlike your other conquests you have a healthy amount of fear for my family."

"That is where you are wrong, my sweet," Blaise smirked. "It is not fear of your family that keeps me in line. It is respect. I respect your family."

"Is that why you are sitting here fondling my legs," Graces asked sweetly, whisking the bare skin away from her touchy friend.

"Oh, come come, you can hardly blame me. You have beautiful legs."

"So I've been told," Graces laughed, thinking about what Neville had said about her legs.

"Really? I always imagined Nott to be a chest man," Blaise mused.

"Yes, well..." Graces trailed off, hoping that Blaise would move off the topic.

"Do you remember when you used to plan our wedding?"

"You mean when I was five?"

Blaise laughed and nodded his head.

"My point is you were convinced we would be married. You told everyone that would listen to you that we were going to get married. My mother thought it was adorable. She still talks about how cute you were parading around at our manor saying what you were going to change once you were Mrs. Zabini. Even your father found it amusing."

"I do have exceptional taste," Graces smiled, remembering how she had helped Blaise's mother decorate her master suite after her last wedding.

"You do. Anyways, do you remember what it was that made you decide you would not be my future wife?"

"Blaise, how am I supposed to remember the rationale I had when I was child. I'm surprised you remember."

"We were sitting in the foyer with your parents and my mother, and you were playing with a baby doll while Draco and I were playing wizard's chess. My mother was cooing over how sweet you were and how you would make such a proper little witch when you were older. And then she asked if I agreed, to which I responded yes. Then your mother made some joke about how she was glad I agreed because you had your heart set on being my wife, and then I said you would make a fine _first_ wife."

Graces stared at Blaise. Blaise with his cocky smirk, dark eyes, and chiseled face. It didn't matter to her that he had said such a thing. He was a child. A child that had grown up seeing many different fathers. It didn't surprise her now as an adult that he had said such things. He just didn't know. Didn't understand. Oh, it was common knowledge that his mother killed her husbands and married others for their fortunes, but a young child wouldn't have understood that.

_Draco understood._

_Draco probably overheard father discussing it with mother. He never was big on the two of them being so close._

_Maybe because he didn't want mum getting funny ideas._

_Never would have happened. My mother loves my father. She would rather die._

"Would you like to know what happened next? What sealed our destinies to forever be star crossed lovers?"

Graces nodded her head slowly, and waited for Blaise to continue.

"Your brother was not happy. I remember sitting there as a young child and realizing in that moment I had made a mistake. I think even my mum was worried. She had set down her tea, and I swear to this day, I think she moved her hand to be near her wand. He was a sight..."

"You do have a knack for theatrics," Graces sighed impatiently, waiting for Blaise to hurry up with the tale.

"It's a Slytherin trait. We all have to have a way with words, what else could allow us to weave in and out of sticky situations? Some have brawn, others intelligence, we have words. Words that slip, slither and burrow into the listeners' minds."

"Well you have accomplished your goal, my dear friend. I am intrigued," Graces declared slowly, leaning back on the sofa, and purposely lifting her legs back onto Blaise's lap. "What did my dear, beloved brother do?"

"He called you over and told you that under no circumstances were you to marry me."

"And I just accepted that?"

"No, you looked over to your father, as though he would disagree, and after he just stared down at you, offering no help. You had the ability to make your own choice: obey Draco's wishes or argue. And you chose to obey. From that day forward you no longer spoke of marrying me. Do you know why?"

"Because I have always had to live under the control of my over-protective, insane brother?"

"Because you trusted that Draco only wanted what was best for you. You didn't need to hear his reasons for his choices, because you knew they were all in your favor. You didn't like it. You didn't agree with it, but you knew he had his reasons." Graces examined her friend as he just continued to look at her. Slytherins were such prats sometimes. They did so love saying what they wanted in a way that made you listen. "Draco loves you. He still wants what is best for you. You may not agree with what he did, but he did it because he loves you. And let's be honest, Gray, what he did was probably for the best."

"He drugged me," Graces whispered darkly.

"He saved you from looking weak."

"I didn't look—"

"People were talking," Blaise interrupted sternly. "They were saying you looked tired and worn. It was being questioned whether you were able to handle the stress associated with your family's downfall. He drugged you to help you. I don't know what's going on with you, Graces. Did you forget the game? Are you really that distressed that you have forgotten you cannot afford to look weak right now? You're acting like a frightened, silly, little girl. If you were my sister I would have smacked you in the hall, and not allowed it the other way around."

"Don't forget who you are speaking to, Zabini," Graces growled. "I am still a Malfoy, and I will be damned before I allow you to chastise me like this."

"You want to be seen as a Malfoy? Than start behaving as one. Malfoys aren't weak."

"I am not weak!" Graces snarled.

"Sure you are," Blaise chuckled. "Poor little Graces Malfoy, always needs protecting. Needed it from her daddy and then needed it from her big brother, too fragile to handle the big, bad world on her own. It's a wonder you have surv—"

Before Blaise could make another comment he was being flung effortlessly on the floor. Graces stood on top of the couch where they had been seated, and with a flick of her wand and a quiet spell, tied the handsome Slytherin down.

"I ought to tear your tongue out of your mouth," Graces whispered, hopping down from her perch and landing right between Blaise's legs, dangerously close to sensitive areas. "The only reason I have not is because of our long-standing friendship." The dark skinned boy grunted as Graces kneeled down, thrusting her knee in the middle of his torso. "I will never give you this grace again, Zabini. Next time you call me weak, I rip your blasphemous tongue out. Do you understand?"

Graces wasn't sure when she had leaned in so that she was nose to nose with her friend, but she was. She was so close to him she could feel his breath on her bared teeth. She was aware the whole Slytherin house was watching, and she was shaking from the adrenaline of it all.

"That's my girl," Blaise grunted almost inaudibly, coughing and gulping at the air as Graces lifted her leg off his torso. "No worries, all," Blaise rasped, from his hands and knees. "Just a lovers' quarrel. Nothing to be alarmed about."

"You're an idiot," Graces muttered, helping her friend up.

"Yes, well, no one is thinking you are weak now," Blaise grunted, hissing as he stood up straight.

"Thanks..."

"Yes, well. I can't have people thinking you are pathetic, when we are to be engaged."

"Were they really calling me pathetic?" Graces asked quietly, leading Blaise up to his room.

"No, not yet they weren't. I thought I should stop it before then."

"You're a good friend, Zabini."

"I have my moments," Blaise gasped, laying down on his bed. "Fuck, Graces. When you throw a man down, you slam him. I feel like a fish that was whacked against a rock."

"Sorry..."

"Are you going to forgive your brother?"

"He has yet to atone."

"You really are going to make him atone for this? For trying to help you without making you feel badly about it?" Graces bit her lip, and didn't answer. It seemed childish now, but at the same time she didn't want to forgive. "Draco needs you," Blaise reminded. "He needs you. You are supposed to forgive him of his trespasses. Not because he deserves it, but because you love him enough to offer him that kind of grace."

_I hate when Blaise makes sense,_ Graces thought, standing to leave. She didn't particularly want to spend a lot of time up in the dorm room alone with Blaise. She imagined there would be some pretty nasty rumors, and the last thing she wanted was everyone thinking that what had happened down stairs was truly a lovers' quarrel.

"Thanks again, Blaise," she whispered, leaning down and lightly kissing his cheek. "I'll think about what you said."

"That's all I ask, mon amour. Oh, and so you know, and I would so appreciate you telling your brother this," he added, seriously. "I have no intention of becoming a black widow. So if at any time he would like to lift his ban on our love, it would be much appreciated."

Graces laughed and left the dorm room shouting out an abundance of other reasons why her brother would disapprove of a union between the two of them. By the time she had reached her own bed, most of the anger towards her brother and Thomas had almost completely diminished.

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Draco didn't know if he should even bother approaching his sister. He stood outside the 6th year girls' dorms, staring at the door. He wanted to go in, but he also didn't want to apologize. He was doing what he thought was best, and he didn't have the luxury or the time to ponder the morality of it all. A clean soul was a luxury he was reserving for Graces, not himself.

Draco closed his eyes and thought about what it was like to be struck by Graces. A chill settled inside him at the memory. Had he lost her? Would she forever be lost to him? Graces was rarely forgiving. She had a knack for holding a grudge. She would feed the flame of one until it blazed so hot and wild that it threatened to tear her apart. Would she hold that kind of grudge towards him? Was he now truly alone?

_One way to find out..._

Draco slipped through the door and quietly made his way over to his sister's bed. All the other girls were fast asleep, they must have fallen asleep hours ago, letting the moonlight shining through the lake drift them away. He wished he could sleep like that. He remembered when he would watch the waves' reflections dance along the floor, comforting him to sleep, and lighting the dark enough to make all of them feel safe even though they were so far away from home. He didn't feel safe in these dorms now, though.

Graces' bed curtains were drawn all around. She clearly no longer cared to look at the reflections either. Draco rolled one curtain back, and stilled as silver eyes stared up at him. Graces looked as serene as ever to see him standing there gaping down at her like she had been expecting him to come all along.

"Get in," she sighed, moving her covers up to allow Draco to crawl in. At first he wondered if this was all a dream, but as Graces continued to gesture irritatedly to him he cautiously obeyed and felt a relief like none other when Graces wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. "I am still furious with you," she maintained.

"I know."

"And I swear on my magic, Draco, if you ever do anything like this again, I will kill you."

"I know."

"And I won't kill you quickly, either. I will make sure you suffer till your last breath."

"I know."

"And manipulating Thomas into your schemes," Graces hissed. "You should be ashamed."

"... Yeah, I know."

"...I love you..."

"I know," Draco choked, taking in deep shaking breaths and doing his best not to cry. He knew that Graces knew he was about to though. He knew because she started absently rubbing his arm as she laid against him, and stayed perfectly still. "Graces, I—"

"You're boney."

"Wh-what?"

"You're boney. To lay on. You know, I can feel your bones."

"Ah, I s-s-see not soft like Longbottom, eh?" Draco sobbed and chuckled at the same time, too overjoyed at the moment for having such a wonderful sister.

"Soft like Longbottom?"

"Yeah, yesterday when Longbottom found you, you babbled on and on for me to leave you with him. One thing you said was he was soft. I don't think he liked that much," Draco added laughing. "You should have seen how red the fat dope blushed."

"He's not fat."

"Well, he's not lean."

Graces bit her lip and decided to no longer argue. It would do no one any good if Draco caught on to her feelings for Neville. Not that she thought it would matter much longer, considering the sandy-haired boy was no longer on speaking terms with her. Still, though... she didn't want Draco to think only negatively of him.

"You said that when you found me Longbottom was taking me up to the Gryffindor tower. That I had fallen asleep and he had found me, and was taking me to his dorm it looked like."

"Yeah, so?"

"That was very kind of him. Longbottom is a kind fellow, don't you think?"

"Yesterday you called him an ass; today you call him kind. You are very confusing."

"I called him an ass?" Graces squeaked, sitting up.

"Yeah, you did," Draco laughed. "I don't think he appreciated that."

"Well, then he shouldn't act like an ass," Graces huffed.

"Do you want me to instill some manners into him?"

"No," Graces declined quickly. "I can handle Longbottom myself."

"Speaking of handling Longbottom, your life debt should be up," Draco commented, taking Graces hand and looking at her palm. "My Gods, Graces. It is up. Look no scar. Why are you still tutoring him?"

"Uh..." Graces had no idea how to answer such a question. There was no reason for her to still be tutoring him. Sure he could use tutoring still, but she wasn't required any longer to be the one to tutor him. It didn't make sense that she, Graces Malfoy, would still be spending time with him.

"Graces?" Draco asked slowly, suspicion just starting to creep up in his eyes.

"He's paying me," Graces blurted out.

"He's paying you..." Draco rolled the idea around in his head.

"Yeah, he's paying me," Graces confirmed nervously. "He's paid me a thousand galleons already," she added, moving to her nightstand and taking out the pouch of gold. She had been meaning to give it back to Neville. She really had been, But after the night in the forest, and then him ignoring her she just hadn't had the opportunity. And if she was being completely honest she was hoping to hold onto it, so that Neville would have to talk to her to gain it back. But he never had.

Draco just continued frowning as he looked inside the pouch at the coins, making Graces more and more nervous.

"We have vaults and vaults of money. More money than we could spend in lifetimes, I don't understand why you are tutoring Longbottom for money," he whispered, placing the pouch down.

"Security," Graces lied. "In case we need to make a fast escape and can't get to our vaults."

"I see..." Draco croaked, putting the coins away and leaning down on the bed to sleep. He laid there for a while waiting for slumber to creep onto him and feeling sick that Graces had planned such a thing. There was no escape. If he failed they would tear the whole world apart, muggle and magical, looking for them. Fleeing was not an option.

"I'm not scared," Graces whispered gently, nuzzling under his chin.

"Good," Draco clipped tightly, kissing his sister's head. "You have nothing to be afraid of. I'm taking care of everything."

Graces hummed a reply and Draco tried to quiet all the terrible things buzzing through his head. It was a lie. He didn't know if he could take care of everything, but it was a lie that Graces knew was a lie. It was a continuation of the façade that the two of them so desperately needed, and he was relieved when Graces didn't argue and just took it for empty words.

_It may not be empty,_ he thought drifting himself into a slumber, his body relaxing next to the warm body and familiar scents by him. _I could very well manage to pull all this off._

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Neville had made a decision. He loved Graces Malfoy and didn't give a piss about what she or her family had to do in this war. He loved her and was not going to turn his back on her for what her brother was so obviously being forced to do. It wasn't going to end happily, he understood that now, but he was not going to be the one to end it. He was going to be there, protecting her, letting her lean on him, talking to her and loving her. He was not going to walk away. He understood the dangers, and had decided Graces was well worth the risk. He would rather live the rest of his lifetime heartbroken than miss one smile she offered him.

A big part of him kept arguing that logically this was not the right choice, that he and Graces had a canyon between them, and he couldn't just go hiking to the other side without a plan or proper provisions, but another more important part of him argued that if he waited for there to be no risk then he would spend the rest of his life alone and separated from her. And when he thought about that he thought about all the times he sat at the lunch table wishing he had someone to be close with. He thought of all the times he went to bed at night wondering what it would be like if someone was thinking of him. Or what it would be like to be wanted by someone.

Graces wanted him and wanted him to stay. The woman he loved wanted him to stay. She was no longer pushing him away. He had finally gained her trust and friendship and Neville was not willing to throw such precious things away, even if that meant being in love with a Malfoy.

It was like what Juliet said in Romeo and Juliet:

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man.

Only Graces' last name was his enemy, and she was still Graces even if she was no longer a Malfoy. And a name wasn't even a thing that should be his enemy. It wasn't real. It couldn't do him any harm. It was a concept. Yes, it told of her heritage, but it wasn't her. She was her. Why should he hold a silly thing like a name against her. The name isn't the enemy, it's just a title. It was silly to determine that anyone sharing that last name should also be responsible for past family members' sins.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was holding Draco accountable for his father's sins. It was wrong. What Draco was going through was wrong on a multitude of levels. And Neville wasn't going to continue on with that kind of logic. Graces was her own person. He was aware she was entrapped in the war, and that there would come a day when she too may have to do some awful things, but Neville knew without a doubt that when that day came he would know who she really was and could look past anything she was forced to do to survive.

"Good morning," he greeted quietly, as Graces approached the desk.

"Uh, good morning," Graces greeted back warily, eyeing Neville as he stood on the right side of the desk.

"Are you busy after classes today?" Neville asked, looking around as other students entered the class. "Professor Sprout is having me harvest gillyweed from the lake, and she said I could have someone help me. She's offering extra credit to me and the person who assists me, so I figured you may want to take advantage of that."

"Uh, yeah, I would... thanks," Graces added awkwardly, still seeming to try and figure out what was going on.

"Great," Neville nodded, standing there and just staring at her. "It should be... interesting."

Graces nodded back and took her seat, obviously not knowing how to continue the conversation.

"You know I don't need your pity." Neville stopped taking notes from Professor Sprout's lecture, and waited for Graces to continue. "I will do fine in the class, even after the little mishap. My grade will improve on it's own. You don't have to feel bad. You don't have to invite me to help."

"Graces," Neville said gently, moving hand to dip his quill in ink and thus brushing against her arm and allowing it to linger there. "I've missed you." Neville listened for Graces to say something back, but the only sound to be heard was of Professor Sprout talking. "This isn't pity. We'll talk more later, but... this isn't pity."


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you're this far in I take it you are enjoying the fic! YAY! Maybe consider leaving me a kudo??? Kudos are nice. Or a comment :) Even nicer.
> 
> ... Not that I need the validation... Who am I kidding I totally need the validation.

Neville could barely listen to Professor Sprout as she went over the directions for harvesting Gillyweed again. All he could think about was how Graces was standing beside him. He wasn't sure how he should approach her. She was there beside him, and they were going to be alone in just a few minutes, but he didn't know what he was going to say or do. He wanted to talk to her about what he knew now. He couldn't go on with sweeping things under the rug, but at the same time he didn't want to know anything more. Right now he felt terrible for not telling Harry the information he knew, he couldn't imagine what it would be like if he knew even more.

"Now, Miss Malfoy," Professor Sprout continued, "come here and let me put this balm on for you." Graces nodded awkwardly and faced Neville as the Professor applied some gel on her back. Neville couldn't help but smirk at Graces' discomfort. She really didn't like to be touched. "This will ensure you don't get cold when you're in the water. It should last until you wash it off with soap, so don't worry if you two are down there for a while. There, now just put some on the rest of you," Sprout dismissed, handing Graces another bottle. "Don't forget your face, dear. Neville you're next."

Neville was now the one facing Graces as the Professor applied liberal amounts of the balm under his shirt. Graces was facing forward, though, clearly pretending to be more invested in getting the balm under her neck than watching Professor Sprout apply it to his back, but every few moments she would look back and Neville had to bite his tongue from laughing as Graces face showed obvious distaste at Professor Sprout touching him.

"Okay, well I shall see you two in a few hours," Professor Sprout said cheerfully, giving Graces a small encouraging smile. "Neville, can I speak to you?"

Neville nodded and walked with the Professor until they were out of earshot from Graces.

"Miss Malfoy seems a bit tense," the elderly woman whispered. "I think she's nervous to use the gillyweed. Completely understandable, the transformation isn't pleasant as you know. Anyways, I have a calming draught, and you may want to offer it to her before going down. I don't want her feeling panicked, especially because the two of you have to remain under the water until it wears off. I was thinking you could drink half, and well offer her the other half? She's a proud girl, I think if you used it first she would be more inclined to use some as well."

"Yeah, uh, I'll be sure to do that," Neville promised, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Unlike Professor Sprout, he understood the real reason for Graces' nervousness, and he highly doubted she would take a calming potion.

Neville walked back over to where Graces was standing at the edge of the lake, her arms crossed around herself protectively. Her silver eyes following him as he approached her, obviously curious about what he and the Professor were talking about.

"Professor Sprout thinks you're nervous to take the gillyweed," Neville explained quietly as he neared her. "She gave me a calming potion for your nerves."

Neville held out the glass vial and wasn't shocked in the least when Graces didn't take it. He was however shocked by what she said after.

"I've been taking them for days," Graces admitted quietly, turning back to look out at the lake. "Draco is insisting I take them," she whispered more to herself than the boy standing beside her. "And a sleeping draught... I think he makes both stronger than they have to be, but I suppose he knows best," Graces trailed off. "Anyways, I would like some time in my own mind with no potions... It's sometimes better to just feel."

Neville didn't know what to say. He just watched Graces look out into the lake.

"I think I would rather use a bubble-head charm," she said after a while. "I know how to do it, and they last longer than gillyweed."

"Gillyweed is better for what we are doing," Neville explained, gently taking Graces hand and giving her the plant. "Harvesting means we need to swim down to the bottom of the lake, and it will be easier for you to maneuver down there with webbed appendages. It's also going to allow for your body not to feel the effects of the water on you. It won't hurt your ears to be so deep and also it will make your eyes adjust better for the water."

Graces looked down at the plant Neville was handing her, and after a few moments Neville realized he hadn't let go of her hand. He didn't mean to hold onto her for that long. He hadn't even thought of it. It... It just felt right. He moved away and muttered a few apologies, but Graces didn't seem to hear any of them as she flexed her fingertips out.

"There are merpeople down there."

"Yeah, but they tend to keep away, so I doubt we will see any."

"I hear they drown people."

"They won't drown us," Neville smiled. "This tribe isn't like that. They mostly keep to themselves. Besides merpeople haven't done things like that in hundreds of years. If you show respect to magical creatures they do the same usually."

"They have tempers."

"Well, the same could be same for you," Neville chuckled, stopping immediately when Graces had no reaction. "Uh, anyways... are you ready?"

The blonde nodded and took a step into the water. Neville followed behind her, wishing that things between them were as they were before the Quidditch game. Graces hesitated for a few moments before popping the plant in her mouth. Neville wondered if Graces found the transformation as uncomfortable as he did. She didn't seem at all fazed by the pain. If anything, she seemed in awe. She floated in the water for a few minutes, examining her webbed hands and toes. Neville wished he could allow her to continue curiously exploring her new body, but time was ticking and they only had an hour.

He motioned for Graces to follow him, and the two of them swam deeper and deeper into the lake. Graces swam gracefully through the weeds that drifted up from the bottom. She didn't seem to have a problem maneuvering around them the way Neville did. A few times Neville got twisted up in a vine, and Graces untied him as easily as undoing some shoelaces. When they finally got to the gillyweed, Neville took out a few pods the professor had given them and set them down into the ground around them illuminating the area with a soft glow of light.

Neville held his breath as the last pod lit up, illuminating Graces. He was convinced that there could not be a more beautiful woman: lips as pink as coral, skin that shimmered like pears and long hair that swayed around her slowly dancing in the water like rays of sunlight trapped in darkness. And yet... she looked so empty. Her gray eyes had become dull, and she didn't have the same fire she had a week ago. And what killed Neville the most was that in some ways that was his fault.

Neville looked away and began working, showing Graces a few times how to correctly pull the gillyweed, but making sure not to linger holding her hand. He wanted to. He wanted to hold her, but he didn't feel right about it yet. He felt as though they needed to talk. He needed to explain things to her before. This was probably not a great idea on his part. He should have not planned for this to be the time he talked to her. He should have planned to talk to her at a time where he actually had his voice and wasn't submerged under water. Neville inwardly sighed at how stupid his plan was, and wished he had thought things out more carefully.

_We could have met in private first. I could have explained myself and talked to her. That would have been better. Now we're submerged at the bottom of a lake unable to say a word... We won't be able to talk until we resurface, and by that time the balm is going to wear off and she will be cold. I. Am. An. Idiot._

Graces wondered what Neville was thinking about as he scowled down at the plants he was furiously pulling. It had crossed her mind on multiple occasions that he was in such a mood because of her presence. It was possible, after all, that he wasn't quite ready to be near her again. That he was being Gryffindor-ish and pushing himself to try and be pleasant when he had no pleasant feeling towards her. That thought surprisingly hurt. Graces pulled weed after weed and wondered how Neville Longbottom had gained such a hold over her. When had she started to need him?

_Probably somewhere between sleeping with him and then him dressing up in Slytherin colors for your game._

Graces held a deep breath and tried not to cry and wondered when her life had become so...

_Pathetic?_

_I need to just stop thinking about it. This will all pass. I will miss him less and less each day. He's just some guy. I'm being silly. I don't need Longbottom. He was nice to have, a comfort that I was relying on, but I do not need him. I just need Draco. And I will always have Draco. I don't need Longbottom. I don't._

Graces' thoughts silenced as she and Neville reached for the same weed to put away and their hands lingered together skin to skin, causing her magic to calm within her. For a moment she reveled in the feel of Neville's warm palm on top of her, before feeling foolish and pulling it away.

_But I want him,_ she thought tearfully, clutching her hand to her chest. Neville sat there for a few moments, clearly uncomfortable. Graces just wanted to scream at him to leave, tell him that if he wasn't ready to be near her he shouldn't have invited her or that if he wanted to end things to just end them and put her out of this misery. She wanted to scream that she didn't need him, that he wasn't anything to her anyways and he should just go. And then, just about the time she had made the decision to swim up to the surface and be done with all this mess, Neville leaned in and kissed her.

It really wasn't anything special of a kiss. It wasn't romantic so much as it was reassuring. It was soft and quick, the only thing lasting about it was how Neville lingered near her after: eyes closed, forehead resting against hers, with his fingers barely brushing against her neck. She wanted to lean in and kiss him again, kiss him in ways that told him how much she had missed him, how badly she wanted him, but she didn't allow herself such foolishness. She didn't know what all this meant and she wasn't willing to just allow him back in her life after he had pushed her away. She just took what he offered, the small reassurance that it wasn't her that he was upset about.

After that it felt like the time where they could finally swim up to the surface was never going to come, but eventually it did. They both swam to the shore, freezing cold from the balm wearing off. Graces had never been more cold in her life. She was convinced that this was so much worse than when the dementors were around in her third year. She sprinted from the water to where a towel and her cloak was. She tried to do a drying charm on herself, but unfortunately she was shivering too hard to get the wand movements correctly and had to just settle for her cloak.

She was in the middle of chattering a list of French words that would have made her mother cry out in offense when she felt a heavy weight settle on her shoulders.

"My gran is a master of warming charms," Neville muttered awkwardly. "This should warm you up faster."

Graces nodded, and pulled the hood of Neville's cloak over her head. She was sure that the boy standing beside her thought she had done this to warm herself more, but in reality she did it because she couldn't stand to look at him, not with the lingering possibility that she could not have him still heavy in the air around them. She was fine if Neville wanted to walk away, but she was in no hurry to hear it. When moments of silence turned into minutes she began walking over to the locker rooms to drop off the swim suit and shower off the cold lake.

Graces tried not to focus on the silence that followed the two of them as they walked over to the locker rooms or the fact that she was wearing his cloak that smelled of him. Instead she focused on the sound of their footsteps and counted each step she took.

"Would you like your cloak back?" she asked, taking notice of Neville's teeth chattering.

"I'm fine."

Once again silence had engulfed them. When Graces reached the Slytherin locker room she handed Neville his cloak back without even a glance and headed inside. Neville stood there cursing himself for being such a coward, before taking a deep breath and entering after her.

"Graces, wait. Listen, I'm—oh, bloody hell!" Neville turned around and covered his eyes when he realized he had just barged in on Graces undressing. Today really wasn't going at all how he planned. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize—well I should have, though, huh? I mean you did just go in here to change, and it's only one article of clothing that you have to take off really, and oh gods I'm just so sorry... so.. are you, uh, decent now?" Neville asked after a long silence.

"I'm decent," Graces said quietly. Neville turned around and saw Graces standing pitifully in the middle of the room clutching a white bathrobe with a Slytherin crest embroidered on the right side close around her. "Talk."

"I...I...I honestly don't know where to begin..."

"I see," Graces whispered, turning around. "Let's not do this, Longbottom. It does no good anyways. Just walk out of this locker room and let it be over. Nothing messy, nothing sad. We had a good time together, and we can both leave it at that. No hard feelings."

"Graces," Neville began walking up behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders and slowly turning her around so she was staring up at him. "I am not going anywhere."

"You're not?"

"No, I'm not," Neville reassured, moving to take both her hands in his.

"You abandoned me," Graces gritted, trying to move her hands away and not burst into tears. "You abandoned me and you just expect things to continue? For me to just be overjoyed to have you back? You abandoned me the day after I found out my mother had been tortured. The day after I found out my brother didn't have any power. The day after I was drugged and almost raped. I'm just supposed to accept that you needed your space?"

"Graces, I—"

"No!" Graces snapped, now unable to stop the tears."No. I needed you. Do you have any idea how... how... I needed you. And you weren't there. You broke it off with me, you—"

"Graces, I didn't break anything off with you. I asked for space."

"It's the same thing," Graces hiccuped.

"It's not," Neville maintained gently. "I still very much was involved with you. Nothing was broken off. I was involved enough to try and help you with our project, to give you my mother's ring, to try to take you to Gryffindor tower to ensure you would be safe, to tell off your brother for being an idiot and basically refuse to give you over to him."

"You refused to give me to Draco?" Graces asked, clearly shocked at this new detail.

"Yeah, I did. He was not happy about it either. I only handed you over because you woke up and insisted. You said you belonged with him..."

Graces stood there in silence, clearly taking in all that Neville had said.

"This is all new to me," Neville continued, moving closer to her. "No one has ever needed me before. I don't know what I am doing. I by no means am perfect, Graces. I make more mistakes than anyone else I know. Maybe asking for space was a mistake, but I needed it. You have to give me some grace on that. Finding out your brother is a Death Eater is a pretty big blow."

"Why is that a big blow?" Graces asked exasperated. "You knew he would eventually be. Look at my family. It was obvious from the beginning that it would eventually happen."

"I didn't think it would, though," Neville explained sadly. "I thought that maybe this whole war would be over before he took the mark. Or that he would see that that path should be avoided. I didn't know he had already taken the mark... I didn't realize that your path was already set... I thought you still had other options."

"But I told you. I—"

"Graces, I am not a smart man," Neville choked. "I know you told me, but I didn't really hear. I had a lot of hope. I was naive... Thus it was a big blow. It not only meant that you would be a Death Eater as well, but it meant that this was really going to end."

"I've told you from the start that nothing could come of us being together," Graces argued.

"I know you have," Neville sighed, looking down at the ground, " but... I still thought... hoped... I don't know... I was praying for that to not be true... Graces, I-I l-like you... a lot. And I think of you as more than just a friend... I think about you romantically." Graces took a step back, and Neville could visibly see the fear and uneasiness that came from his proclamation. "I know we will never be more than what we are now," Neville continued, holding her hands tighter so she didn't run away. "I had to think about if I could continue with this being it. It's not exactly like I can expect not to be hurt now," Neville said quietly. "The girl I want romantically is going to be a Death Eater."

Graces and Neville just stood there in silence. Neither one of them knowing what to say. Graces stood wanting to tell him how sorry she was, that she didn't want any of it. And Neville stood there wanting to tell her that he loved her, and no matter what that wouldn't change.

"I don't understand," Graces rasped. "Now that you know all this why are you standing here?"

"Because I still want this," Neville declared, a small smile coming from one corner of his mouth. "You mean something to me, regardless of if I can be with you. I don't want to be without you, and I don't want to not be here for you. So I decided that I didn't want to be the one to walk away... I can remember who you are even when you have the Dark Mark on your arm, Graces. And I can say that now and have it mean something. It's not as you would call it "pretty words" I've thought it over. I mean it."

"You... you don't know what you're saying," Graces sobbed. "You can't know. You shouldn't feel any of that towards me. I-I don't want you to. I told you nothing can come from—"

"Graces, I don't need you to validate my feelings by growing the same fondness. I am very used to caring for people that do not have the ability to care for me."

"I don't want to be that," Graces whimpered. "That's awful and tragic just in thought. I don't want that for you. But... but at the same time I can't ever grow to feel any stronger feelings for you than I feel now. I can't allow that. I love Draco too much. I love my family too much. I can't allow myself to forget who you are and who I am. Because if I did this wouldn't be enough."

"And... and what are your feelings for me now?" Neville asked, holding his breath and praying for a real answer.

"I don't know," Graces sniffed.

"I am sure you do," Neville persisted. "Please, Graces, just be honest with me. How do you feel about me?"

Neville waited on edge for Graces to reply. He could practically hear both their hearts pounding. Graces bit her lip and looked around the room tearfully, and Neville wondered if she was going to lie. And say she just liked him as a friend.

_It doesn't matter even if she does. The way I feel is not dependent on the way she feels._

"I-I like you," Graces breathed slowly. "Romantically."

"R-really?" Neville stuttered, a bit unbelieving that this was happening. He really had expected her to lie. It was unreal for him to hear that she felt that way about him. Half the time he thought she did he wondered if he was just telling himself she did to make him feel better.

"I do," Graces repeated heavily. "I like you more than I should, if I am being honest... which it seems you want me to be. But it's like I said. I can never be your girlfriend and I will never love you. It wouldn't be right... I can't allow myself to do that. I shouldn't have allowed my feelings to grow this much."

Neville understood all that, but it didn't stop him from smiling shyly down at their hands which were still laced together.

"I'm really happy right now," Neville admitted lowly. "That's sappy to say, isn't it? I mean people don't usually say things like that... It's sappy, but I-I'm really happy right now."

"Well, I'm still a bit mad at you," Graces informed.

Neville looked up at her momentarily to gauge her anger, and then grinned and looked back down.

"I'm still really happy."

"You're such a Gryffindor," Graces scoffed.

"Yeah, I know," Neville grinned, pulling Graces in and wrapping his arms around her. "It's a very charming trait," he muttered, leaning in and kissing Graces softly. "I'm so sorry, Graces. I-I didn't want to cause you pain... I-I just needed to think."

"I understand now," she shushed, leaning up and offering Neville a soft kiss as well, lingering near after. Both students breathed in the other's proximity. It had been so long since they were this close. So long since they had been free to touch the other. Neville leaned in and kissed her again, and soon after one kissed morphed into the next, until they were both up against a locker kissing.

Neville moaned at how great it felt to kiss Graces again, and didn't bother trying to restrain himself from continuing. He continued on kissing her, reveling in the heat that was already spreading through him as Graces parted her lips to grant him entrance.

"I smell like the lake," Graces argued, as his hands wandered inside her bathrobe.

"Why is it you always bring up such nonsense at the worst possible time," Neville panted, hunched over from leaving a trail of kisses down her collar.

"You just get worked up too fast," Graces giggled.

Neville blushed and straightened up awkwardly, trying to regain some composure.

"Right... I'll, uh, see you in a bit then," he contended. "I'll wait for you outside to take the plants to Professor Sprout."

"Longbottom, wait," Graces called as Neville headed to the door. Graces stood there for a few seconds, tapping her right foot in back of her obviously a bit nervous. "You, uh, could join me if you wanted..." Neville definitely did want to join, but unfortunately for him he had seemed to forgotten how to speak and just stood there. Graces seemed to understand though and now had a confident smirk. "I take it that means you'll be joining me," she smiled, turned around and headed to the showers, untying her robe and letting it fall in her wake.

Neville heard the shower turn on and took a few deep breaths. He didn't want to seem over eager in joining her, but at the same time he could barely keep himself contained. He walked over to the shower with a million different images of what this would entail flashing in his mind. When he entered the shower room he hesitated at coming all the way forward. Graces was in the center one and had left the curtain open allowing him to see a complete view of her as the water trickled down her shoulders, breasts, stomach, and legs.

"You're welcome to join," Graces reminded, as she tilted her head up to the water. "Though I would recommend you undress."

Neville blushed and awkwardly began taking of his clothes. It wasn't until he was fully naked though did he begin to feel nervous. Once again he was reminded of how utterly gorgeous Graces was, and her comment of how he was "soft" continued to replay in his head. As well as the laugh Higgs had had.

"Is something wrong?" Graces asked, now moving out of the shower.

"No, course not," Neville lied, folding his arms and hoping to hide.

"Well, then aren't you going to join me?" Graces teased, succeeding in pulling one of his hands away and leading him into the shower. "When did you become so shy?" she laughed, as Neville refolded his arms in front of him.

"It's... It's not like you've seen me, well, you know, that often," Neville blushed. "We're usually still kind of wearing clothes, or in a rush, I suppose."

Graces suddenly remembered her comment of calling Neville soft, and wondered if that was the reason now that he seemed a bit shy.

_Have I ever told him anything about his appearance?_ Graces realized she hadn't, and immediately felt guilty. _Well, since we are being so honest today._

"You know I, uh, find you very handsome." Neville gave Graces a disbelieving glare. "No, really," the blonde persisted, now blushing scarlet. "I do... You're very handsome... I wouldn't be in here with you if I didn't find you attractive."

" _You_ find _me_ attractive?" Neville asked skeptically.

"I do," Graces maintained, stepping into Neville's frame and kissing his jaw and moving down to his neck making his blood boil and him throb with need. "You're the only man I have ever desired like this."

Neville looked down at Graces and searched her eyes for any hint of insincerity. And when he couldn't find any let go of his own self-consciousness. Small hesitant kisses became passionate and demanding. Gentle caresses morphed into hands that greedily sought to touch more and more.

Neville was quickly realizing that shower sex was all about the foreplay. A slight touch here, a roaming hand there, brushing up against this then that. He thought that he would be too impatient and want more, but he wasn't. He enjoyed every second of touching Graces, and was over the moon about her touching him. Soap was being used in ways Neville was convinced soap was intended for and between the hot water falling against his back and Graces delicately drawing circles against his skin with her tongue, he was in heaven.

Eventually though he did begin to yearn for more, and moved his hand between Graces legs and he suckled at her divine breasts. He was slowly coming undone with every soft gasp, panting breath and small moan Graces gave. And yet he didn't want to stop touching her like this.

"Turn around," he ordered huskily. Graces frowned slightly in confusion, but did as she was told. Turning and facing the marble wall and bracing her arms out in front of her as Neville gestured. "If it makes you feel uncomfortable just tell me," Neville whispered gently as he brought his hand around and persisted in rubbing the bundle of nerves between her legs. Graces nodded and closed her eyes focusing on how wonderful it felt. Neville's other hand was on her breast and he was kissing the back of her neck and nibbling down to her shoulders, causing shivers down her spin. "So far?"

"Great," Graces breathed, wanting so much more.

"Good," Neville chuckled, becoming more feverish with his kisses and moving closer to her so that she could feel his hard length against her. "Can I enter you from here?" Neville panted, moving the fingers between her legs lower so they were inside her indicating what he wanted, before he moved them back above rubbing her in faster circles and nibbling her ear. Graces tensed at the question. It really wasn't an odd request, but she didn't know how she felt about not being able to see what Neville was doing. Facing a wall... she couldn't kiss him back from this position. Did that make her more of an object than a person? "If you don't like it we will stop," Neville promised, kissing the side of her neck.

"Okay."

Graces waited to feel Neville entering her, but Neville seemed to be in no real hurry. He just continued on touching and kissing her. Graces gasped as she felt his tongue dragging to the middle of her spine, from there Neville nibbled at her ribs. His hand brought her closer and closer to her peak.

Graces moaned at how wonderful it all felt and bit her lip from crying out too loudly. It all just felt so amazingly good. A few moments later she felt Neville's hand leave her breast and gasped as he thrust in between her lips.

"Still okay?" Neville asked, moving gently inside her, his other hand still working it's magic.

Graces blushed as her yes was a little more enthusiastic than she intended, but if anything it seemed to make Neville more excited. He was now moving in her with less hesitancy and kissing any bit of skin he could find, lingering longer in areas that made her contract around him.

"You feel so amazing," Neville moaned, tilting her chin to the side and kissing her heatedly on the mouth. "I'm so lucky," he whispered, moving to kiss the base of her shoulder, moaning her name with each movement he made inside her.

Soon she was moving too, reaching behind her with one hand and lacing it through Neville's hair as he held her tighter, and brought her to the edge.

"I want to hold you," she whispered, as she sensed Neville's peak coming.

Neville immediately stopped and turned her around, lifting her up against the wall and kissing her lips fiercely as he molded into her. He loved her. He loved her so much. He loved her so much that he couldn't take his lips away from her's or else he would proclaim it out loud. He felt her tremble around him and her arms and legs pull him in closer and before long he was over his edge too, lost in a tangle of skin that made him feel like heaven was at his fingertips.

As they slid down from the wall she didn't remove her hold around his neck and just laid her head against his chest.

"I missed you," she breathed, nuzzling her nose against his wet skin.

"I missed you too," Neville whispered, kissing the top of her head and leaning back against the wall, just thankful to be holding her again.


	38. Chapter 38

Thomas kept glancing over at Graces as she ate breakfast with her brother. He wanted to talk to her about the whole potion incident, but he still didn't know how. He was so deeply ashamed. Graces had always done what was best for him, and he had sworn his allegiance to her, and then at the first opportunity betrayed her. That wasn't the kind of man he wanted to be. It wasn't the kind of action that made him proud of himself. She and Draco had seemed to make up fine, but he still had yet to speak to her. There never seemed to be an opportunity to get her alone.

_Or I'm just too much of a coward to try and get her alone._

"Thomas, we should go to the courtyard today," Wendelin mused. "We could have lunch over by those rose bushes and after wouldn't it be fun to go to the Quidditch pitch this evening after classes? You could take me up on your broom. What do you say?"

Thomas looked across the table at the dark haired girl and shook his head.

"Why?" Wendelin asked crossly, folding her arms in front of her.

Thomas sighed at the question. It wasn't like this was the place he could answer it; they weren't alone in the common room, they were in the Great Hall surrounded by people. He tried to convey that he was sorry to the girl across from him and reached to take her hand, but Wendelin took her hands off the table and placed them neatly in her lap, challenging him to speak.

_She knows I can't,_ Thomas thought, humiliation gripping his stomach and making it turn. _Why is she doing this?_

"The thing about being challenged, Thomas, is you look weak if you succumb, "Graces whispered quietly in his ear. Her hands gently rested on his shoulders as her hair fell over him, hiding his face. "Don't you dare bow down."

No sooner had Graces came over than she had gone: kissing him quickly on the cheek, stealing his blueberry muffin from his plate (which he knew for a fact she didn't even like) and grabbing her bag to leave sending him a flirtatious wink as she skipped away.

"What was that about?" Wendelin huffed, watching Graces leave. "Thomas?"

Thomas sat looking coldly at the girl before him. Wendelin was a very pretty girl, and he would be lying if he said he no longer wanted to continue with her, but at the same time he wanted more respect out of this relationship. He was tired of being her pet dog that performed tricks on cue for her. He wasn't stupid, he knew he was no catch, not an heir and a stuttering mess. There were many more prestigious men for her to be interested in, but it wasn't worth being pathetic. Graces had reminded him to demand the respect he wanted, she had told him many times that if he wanted respect he, unlike many of the others that could hide behind their name, had to demand it.

So with that thought Thomas calmly took his napkin off his lap, placed it down on the table and stood to leave.

"Where do you think you are going?"

Thomas raised an eyebrow at the young girl fuming in her seat, and, with no other motion of acknowledgment, strutted out of the Great Hall no longer needing to finish his breakfast.

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"Why did you take the muffin?" Draco asked, perplexed, as he and his sister headed towards potions.

"To seem playful and casual," Graces shrugged, wrinkling her nose at the blueberry pastry. "I didn't want her to know what I was saying to him, and I also wanted her to think that he had other options. Plus it is a reminder to her that Thomas is in our favor." Draco nodded, and was slightly impressed at his sister's attention to detail. "I really do dislike blueberries," Graces sighed. "Do you want it?"

"No," Draco chuckled. "Too sweet for my taste. I, unlike you, don't welcome sugar so early in the morning."

"Whatever," Graces scoffed. "If it was a chocolate muffin you would have accepted it. Oh, perfect!" Graces exclaimed as they rounded the corner. "Loon—uh, Lovegood," she called out, catching the Ravenclaw girl before she entered her first class. "Catch!"

Luna caught the muffin and gave Graces a grateful smile, before being shoved through the door to her classroom.

"Did you just give Looney a muffin?" Draco asked, startled.

Graces frowned for a second.

"Oh my gods, I did," she breathed, astounded.

Draco was about to start questioning whether the potions were starting to get to his sister, or if she was dabbling in cheering potions, but before he could Neville Longbottom was walking up. Draco scowled at the boy's presence and wanted to punch that peculiar smile he seemed to have as he looked back at where Luna had disappeared and over to Graces.

"Playing nice, Malfoy?" he asked pleasantly, causing both the twins to grit their teeth.

"What do you want, Longbottom?" Draco snarled.

Neville pretended not to hear the distemper in Draco's voice, and just turned his attention to Graces.

"Are you busy tonight? If not would you be able to work with me?"

"She's busy," Draco deadpanned, not at all liking the way Neville had ignored him.

Neville bristled at Draco's words, but didn't concede.

"I wasn't speaking to you," Neville informed, a shade of red appearing around his neck. "I was speaking to your sister."

"I am aware," Draco drawled, pulling himself up to his full height and looming over the Gryffindor. "And I am speaking for her. She's busy," he repeated slowly. "Or are you too dense to understand that concept?"

"I believe your sister can speak for herself, Malfoy," Neville countered, still flushing from Draco's last comment.

Draco laughed at Neville's defiance, and placed a possessive arm around his sister's waist.

"Be my guest then, Longbottom. Ask her," Draco ordered, laughing.

Neville tightened his jaw and looked over at Graces patiently waiting for her to answer.

"If my brother says I'm busy, I'm busy," Graces muttered, looking away.

"And if he says you're free?" Neville asked, looking over at Draco for a moment.

"Then I'm free."

Draco grinned as Neville pursed his lips and then turned towards him again.

"Malfoy, please can you free her for the night. I really need her help with this essay."

"Hmmm... no," Draco clipped, taking Graces and ushering her in through the potions door.

"My gods, how much time does that nit wit need with you. He seems to always be needing your help. I don't believe I've ever met anyone as useless as Neville Longbottom."

"He's not dense," Graces said quietly, pulling out her cauldron. "He, well, he fancies me."

"He what?!" Draco exclaimed, dropping his books unceremoniously to the table. "You have got to be joking with me."

Graces shook her head. "No, he, uh, just likes me... I don't even think he needs me to tutor him, I think he just enjoys my company."

"Why in Merlin's name are you still tutoring him then?!"

"Well, you see, he does this thing with his tongue, and—"

"Oh gods, not this again, Graces," Draco groaned, clutching his stomach as though he were going to be sick. "It's not funny. It really isn't. All it does is put these vile images in my head that make me want to burn my eyes out."

"You asked," Graces teased, taking out her notes.

"In all seriousness, though," Draco continued, looking sideways at his sister. "How did you know he fancied you?"

"The mudblood told me," Graces laughed. "She literally told me to keep away from him."

"Did she now?"

Graces, hoping it would spark her brother to have a change of heart about her being busy, nodded and both twins turned around to scowl at Hermione who was talking to Neville.

"I changed my mind about you being busy tonight," Draco declared, watching Hermione darkly. "You're not busy. In fact, I think after class you should inform Longbottom that you are free... Maybe be a bit more... friendly when you do it too."

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"Hermione, I think you need to pinch me," Neville whispered sitting dazed. "Did Professor Snape just say that-that he will no longer be teaching potions after Christmas? Did I hear that right or is this a dream?"

Hermione laughed at Neville's reaction to Professor Snape's announcement.

"No, you heard him. He will be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts, but yeah, no more potions. I sort of saw this coming though, you see Dumbledore had been trying to convince Slughorn to take the job over the summer, I suppose he finally managed to do that."

"This is probably the second best day of my life," Neville grinned, moving to pack his things.

"Yeah, I bet... I guess that means you won't need Malfoy to tutor you."

"What do you mean?" Neville frowned. "I'm still not good at potions. Just because I don't have Snape to fear doesn't mean I don't want to continue doing well."

"Neville, you can't be serious. I mean—"

"Longbottom!" Hermione looked up as Graces practically skipped over to her's and Neville's desk.

"Remember how I was busy tonight and couldn't help you with your potions assignment?" Graces reminded excitedly, smiling from ear to ear as Neville nodded. "Well, I'm free now," Graces winked. "Aaannnd I was sort of hoping that if I helped you with your potions assignment, you would help me with my herbology?"

Hermione clenched her fists together as Graces coyly played with the ends of Neville's textbook waiting for an answer, looking up every once in awhile and batting her lashes.

"Uh, yeah, sure. That would be fine," Neville grinned, clearly getting drunk off Graces' flirtatious behavior. "What time were you thinking?"

"Well, I was thinking we could meet af—"

"Neville, did you still want to work on muggle studies together?" Hermione interrupted. "Because I'm free tonight as well, and it's the only night I'm free till the weekend. And we have that test coming up and I could help you with it."

"Oh, that's okay," Graces sighed sadly. "If you have plans, I suppose we could just meet tomorrow."

"No, no," Neville said quickly. "Tonight is fine. I can meet you anytime after dinner. Tonight's fine."

"Are you sure?" Graces asked slowly.

"Yeah, it's fine."

"Neville!"

"Hermione!" Neville echoed back sarcastically.

"Thanks, Longbottom," Graces smiled, reaching over and placing her hand on his. "I really appreciate this."

Hermione glared at the blonde as she moved around the desk and headed to meet her brother at the door.

"Oh, and Longbottom, I really need help with this herbology assignment... Would it be okay if I kept you a bit late?"

"How late?" Hermione snapped.

"Oh, really late," Graces purred, causing Draco to snort out a laugh.

Neville didn't seem to notice though he just grinned like a fool and said it would be fine.

"Great," Graces cheered. "I'll see you tonight."

Hermione could feel her blood boil as the blonde skipped off, giggling in her brother's ear as Pansy and Blaise chuckled behind them. Neville didn't deserve this. Her trying to help him appeared to have just made things worse. Graces seemed to now make it her goal to defy her.

_This is my fault, I should never have told her, now Neville is going to be heartbroken._

"Neville," Hermione said quietly, guilt bubbling up in her voice, "I don't think you should meet Malfoy..."

"I know you don't," Neville shrugged, packing up his last remaining potion supplies.

"Neville, I-I have to tell you something," Hermione started nervously. "It's, well, it's about Graces. You see, I-I think she is toying with you. Making you believe she is interested when she's not to get back at me."

"And why would she do that?" Neville asked, staring intently at his friend.

"Well, I sort of told her you fancied her..."

"You did what?" Neville hissed. "When did you do that? Why did you do that? What did she say?"

"I-I... Neville, you were so upset that day in the owlery. You were crying, and I just thought if I made her aware of your feelings, she would be human for a change, and try to be cautious with your feelings. But Instead she is making this a game to hurt you and I tried to tell her to keep away from you, but—"

"You had no right to do any of that," Neville snarled, standing up from his seat and knocking the stool he was sitting on over. "None. If I want to keep away from Malfoy, I will, but it's my decision."

"Neville you are going to get hurt. I don't think you understand what kind of person she is. She's—"

"You don't even know her!" Neville snapped, moving towards the door. "No one does. I want to know her. That's my business, not yours."

Hermione jumped from her seat and ran after her friend, determined to make him see reason. "Look at how she acted with you today!" she screeched, as she entered the hall. "This is a game for her. You're the mouse and she is the cat. She's just toying with you for the time being, but she will get bored and then—"

"Hermione, I don't know how many times I have to tell you to mind your own business, but let me remind you again. My business is my own, I don't need, nor do I want your help. I'm not some poor sap that needs to be rescued! So stop treating me that way!"

"Neville, I—"

"Don't touch me!" Neville spat, moving his arm away as Hermione reached to touch him. "Just-just leave me alone," Neville choked, leaving to go to his next class.

"Well, that worked out better than I could have ever hoped," Draco smirked, watching the scene between Hermione and Neville unfold from a distance.

"Yeah," Graces breathed, watching Neville disappear from view into the next hall. "I better get to class, I'll see you at lunch."

"Yeah, hopefully we'll get another show then. I would love to see Granger try to talk to Longbottom again," Blaise commented gleefully.

"Maybe he'd finish her off?" Pansy snickered.

"Longbottom? Nah, doesn't have the stones that one."

Graces turned the corner and groaned at how far ahead Neville was from her. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to run after him, she decided to pull a Draco and hex his bag to rip apart.

Neville cursed as the contents of his bag fell all over the castle floor. Everyone scrambled around him to get to class while he was on hands and knees trying not to get his fingers stepped on as he reached for his inkwells, parchment, and quills. It was right as he was about to crawl over to the remnants of his older wand that he realized Graces was on the floor with him picking things up. Everyone was now gone from the corridor and in class, leaving just the two of them.

"Hi," she said shyly tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Hi?" Neville repeated. "Hi? What happened to you being overtly flirtatious with me?" Neville asked angrily, causing Graces to blush and look down. "Right... so it really was a show."

"It was and wasn't," Graces murmured, standing up and handing Neville his old wand. "It was more a show for Draco, the other Slytherins and Granger, not for you."

"I looked like an idiot."

"Come on, Longbottom. You had to have known something was up. Besides, it's what got us our time together tonight. After I told Draco what Hermione told me he changed his mind about me being busy."

"Why did you tell him what Hermione told you?!"

Graces blushed and fiddled with the strap of her bag.

"He-he was saying you were dense and that's why you needed me to tutor you so badly..."

"That's nothing new," Neville growled, trying to organize his bag so everything wasn't a total mess in there after the spill.

"I just didn't want him thinking that. You're not dense. So I told him you had a crush on me, and that's why you were always wanting tutoring..."

Neville paused and thought about what Graces had just said.

"You didn't want him thinking I was dense? Why does that matter? He's always thought that. The whole bloody school thinks that."

"It just matters. I don't want Draco thinking that."

Suddenly it all clicked in his head why it mattered to Graces.

"Anyways, I need to get to class," Graces stated awkwardly. "I won't do that little display again... I didn't think it would cause you so much trouble... I honestly didn't know Granger would tell you about our little conversation. She's such an odd one. She goes behind your back and tells me your secrets and then rats herself out. Anyways," Graces started over, clearly remembering her main point. "I'll see you tonight."

"Right, okay." Graces was almost to the middle of the hall, before Neville called out to her to ask one last thing. "It's because you like me right? The whole not wanting Draco to think I'm daft thing. Right?"

"Shhhh," Graces shushed, looking around the corridor and turning bright red. "Are you mad? You can't just go shouting that kind of stuff." Neville rolled his eyes and waited for Graces to respond. "Ugh, yes it is. Isn't that what I just said?"

"Yeah, I guess you did. See you later, Malfoy," Neville called, smiling as Graces sent him a dirty glare before disappearing.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Graces tried to ignore the way her heart flip-flopped in her chest at the sight of Neville waiting for her in the classroom. It wasn't as though he looked especially dashing. If anything his clothing choice was horrid. He was wearing a sweater that looked as though it was a hand-me-down from someone his gran's age and his jeans had definitely seen better days, but none of that seemed to matter as he looked up at her and smiled.

She hadn't realized how much she missed that smile that Neville wore when greeting her until it was gone. But now she watched transfixed as his smile grew like a sunrise at the sight of her, making her feel warm without any real heat.

"Good evening," Neville smiled, standing up from his seat to greet her with a soft kiss.

Graces had to hold herself back from leaning in slightly and kissing Neville again. It felt so amazing to be kissed like this, casual and sweet like waking up in a warm bed with fluffy pillows and soft down sheets and not having to get up. That's what Neville's kiss was like: warm, soft, familiar.

"I didn't realize we were kissing to greet one another now," Graces blushed, remembering herself and moving away to place her books onto a near by table.

"Do you not enjoy me kissing you?" Neville asked patiently.

"No, I-I enjoy it." Graces was sure that Neville could visibly see how red she was, and tried to stop fidgeting with her hair as he continued to stare down at her.

"You enjoy it, you just don't welcome it," Neville summarized, leaning on the desk. "That makes sense."

"No, I never said I didn't welcome it. I just feel like, well, like it's... I don't know. It's not necessary is it?"

"Necessary?" Neville repeated.

"Well, we don't need to kiss to greet one another," Graces pointed out lamely.

"Graces," Neville whispered, brushing her cheek lightly with the back of his hand causing her to hold her breath. "Don't do this."

"Do what?" Graces squeaked, knowing exactly what Neville was referring to, but unable to stop herself. "It's... it's just an odd thing to do. I mean we never did it before, and now all of the sudden you seem to want to kiss me when I walk in the door. I mean, why is that? It's not necessary. It's a bit much don't you think? Especially considering that—" Graces thanked the gods for the soft knock at the door that saved her from saying more stupid strings of words.

Neither student made any motion towards the door. Neville seemed to be trying to gain back some of his composure, and Graces stood timidly in front of him her right hand toying with her left ring finger. _I think I've made him angry... definitely frustrated._

_Well, you are being frustrating._

"I-I'll just go get that," Graces muttered quietly, after the second knock occurred.

_It really isn't that big a deal. It's not like kissing him hello is going to magically change things between us,_ she thought as she opened the door.

"Thomas," Graces exclaimed startled. "What are you doing here?"

Thomas looked over at Neville before looking back at Graces who blushed at her momentary slip.

"Longbottom," Graces started, turning to face the Gryffindor. "Would you mind giving me and Thomas the room for a bit?" Graces could tell that Neville did indeed mind, and that turning him away when they were in the beginnings of a rough was probably not going to do anything positive for the situation at hand, but Neville didn't argue and began walking towards the door to leave them. "It shouldn't be long," Graces promised, receiving a brief nod before Neville shut the door.

_I hope I won't be paying for this later,_ she thought, turning from the door to face Thomas. Who just continued slouching in the middle of the floor, making no motion to speak. _He's still such a child._

"Is there something you wanted, Thomas?"

"I w-w-wanted t-t-to app-pologize," Thomas stuttered, looking down. "I sh-should n-never h-have d-d-druged y-you..."

"I see..." Graces had long ago forgiven Thomas of his trespasses against her. Draco had been the one at real fault, Thomas was just a pawn in his plan. _Do you want him being a pawn? Better to teach him a lesson now._

"I j-j-just w-w-wanted t-to h-help y-y-ou," Thomas explained after a pregnant silence. "Y-you w-w-weren't ac-c-ct-ting l-like y-y-yourself."

"So you chose to help me act like myself by drugging me," Graces finished, raising an eyebrow. "Not a very good plan, Mr. Higgs."

"I d-d-didn't kn-know wh-what t-t-to d-do," Thomas choked.

"You are a child," Graces clipped coolly. "It is not your place to deal with these matters, and Draco should have never asked you to."

Graces felt a sting of guilt when Thomas hurriedly wiped his eyes from tears. He looked so small. He was everything she was saying, just a boy, and she was standing there chastising him for it. They were all supposed to be just children, and all of them were being forced to be more. Someone was supposed to be taking care of them, and no one was.

"Thomas, you are not anywhere close to being a man," Graces said gently, taking both his hands. "Don't look offended, it's just how it is. You're a young lamb that needs to be lead. Draco should have been a better leader. I'm not mad at you Thomas, I'm disappointed. I know one day you will be a good man, a strong man, but you need more confidence in yourself. A man that lacks confidence will easily fall behind others. I just want to teach you now how to be that man."

"What was your first instinct when you found out what Draco was doing?" Graces asked calmly, brushing off a stray tear from the younger boy's chin.

"I d-didn't ag-gree..."

"What prevented you from arguing?"

"I t-t-trusted D-draco..."

"Do not blindly trust anyone, Thomas. If you do not agree fight harder. Even the greatest of men make mistakes. Were you completely convinced it was best for me, even after discussing it with Draco?" Thomas slowly shook his head. "Then you should have continued to argue."

Thomas nodded and closed his hand around Graces' fingers. He had no idea how to atone for what happened. Graces had always done so much for him and he had let her down. He was a disappointment.

"Thomas," Graces whispered, moving up and comfortingly wrapping her arms around him. "You are not a disappointment. You just disappointed me this one time. I'm very proud of you. I just want you to continue to grow. And right now you need to grow in your confidence; in order for you to grow into a great man you need to start thinking of yourself in a higher regard. You are not a disappointment to me, nor are you to your family. And you certainly do not need to settle for a girl like Wendelin."

"Y-you're p-p-peeking in m-my h-head?" Thomas squeaked, mortified that Graces could see all that.

"I don't have to," Graces murmured. "It's obvious."

There was a long silence after that. Graces just held Thomas close and allowed him to have some comfort away from home. The Higgs were more touchy than other purebloods, and she wondered if he missed this the most about his family, having people that hugged and touched you all the time. She tried to be more affectionate towards him, but she was so busy lately it couldn't be enough. _Maybe that's why he likes Arisanti so much..._

"...I l-like W-wendy."

Graces hummed an irritated response, but knew it was no use. The heart wanted what it wanted, and Arisanti had placed her talons in Thomas'.

"Okay, my darling," Graces cooed, motherly kissing the top of his head. "If you want Arisanti, for the time being, I shall not object. However," the blonde began again darkly, "You better start demanding more respect out of that girl; she's treating you like a pet, not a boyfriend. If I ever see her disrespect you like that again, I will burn her heart out of her chest. And I know the spell to do it with."

Graces couldn't help but smile proudly as Thomas gave an audible gulp, nodded awkwardly and left the room. She seriously prayed that he would take all of her advice to heart.

"Are you done with Higgs?" Neville asked, walking back into the room, obviously a bit peeved.

Graces nodded, and before Neville could say another walked over and greeted him with a soft kiss.

"Can we start over?" she asked hopefully.

"Can you stop having intimacy issues?" Neville responded, kissing Graces back and lingering near her lips. "What's going on? You said you liked me romantically, and then you cower away when I—"

"When you act romantic," Graces finished, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Heaven forbid the boy you're shagging makes some effort, huh?" Neville teased playfully, wrapping his arms around the girl in front of him to prevent her from moving away further.

"You know it's not like that?" Graces whispered. "I just am protecting myself."

"From big, bad Neville Longbottom?"

"From funny, kind Neville Longbottom," Graces murmured, laying her head down on his chest despite herself.

"Would you like me to be a bit more unpleasant?"

"That would be helpful," Graces agreed, smiling at Neville's humor.

"Okay... Well, I think that you are the most spoiled girl I have ever met."

Graces snorted a laugh and waited for Neville to continue.

"Also, I hate your owl."

"You do not!" Graces exclaimed, pulling away.

"I do, if it were up to me we would roast Loki for the Halloween feast, really crisp him too."

"You would never harm Loki," Graces laughed, not realizing that she was hugging Neville tighter.

"I would if I was being unpleasant," Neville argued, trying very hard to look serious, but failing miserably. "Telling you, Malfoy. Halloween, Loki is going to be served as your main dish."

"Okay, I changed my mind," Graces giggled. "Go back to being pleasant."

"Are you sure you can handle it?" Neville joked, moving away and going over to his desk.

"I can't handle the thought of you roasting my sweet, little Loki," Graces cooed, as though the evil bird was around. "So I suppose I must put up with your pleasantness."

"Good," Neville chuckled, digging something out of his bag. "Now that we are back to allowing me to be pleasant I have a surprise for you."

Graces furrowed her brow and then scowled as Neville took out an old radio.

"I just thought we could listen to music as we worked today."

"Oh, yeah, that would be nice," Graces nodded, passively.

"Yeah... I, uh, was thinking we could put it on that one muggle station..." Graces stilled and just stared at Neville dubiously. "I just thought that—"

"We should get to work," Graces interrupted, clearly wanting to just ignore what Neville just said. "I was thinking that we could work on the potions essay first, but I really do need help with herbology."

"Uh, yeah," Neville nodded, fiddling with the knobs of the radio, but not turning it on. "So, uh, what do you think about the music idea?"

"I don't care if you want to listen to music," Graces shrugged. "Just put up a silencing charm around the room at least."

"But... you want to listen to muggle music right?"

"I want to work on these essays. Come on, better get them out of the way now. I wrote my herbology one last week, but I really would like your input on the last page. I feel like it's lacking. I need Mr. Longbottom's expertise," Graces winked gesturing for Neville to join her.

Neville knew Graces was avoiding his attempt to share in something she liked, but he decided not to press the issue. He turned on the radio to the muggle station and began working on the papers like Graces wanted. They were actually having a good time, behaving almost normal together.

They worked on herbology first where Neville, despite himself, ended up going on for an hour about the possibilities of cross breeding certain plants. He imagined this wasn't the kind of topics that most girls would find interesting, and a few times he meant to end the discussion, but Graces just smiled and gestured for him to continue.

It was odd having someone hanging on his every word like this, and a few times it made him slightly uncomfortable, but Graces pretended not to notice his discomfort. She asked question after question, and eventually it evolved into her asking if crossbreeding magical plants would make potions for medicinal purposes easier to create.

"Is this the healer in you asking?" Neville teased.

"Yes, and the healer in me would greatly appreciate if the Professor in you would answer the question," Graces laughed, resting her head in her palm and waiting patiently.

"It could make medicinal potions easier to make," Neville acknowledged." The problem is making the plant have just as much potency as the originals on their own. Or you would be using more plants to get the same reaction from the potion."

"Would it be worth the cost to buy the crossbreeds then?"

"Awww, business Malfoy is out," Neville chuckled. "It would be worth it depending. If we could crossbreed some of the plants with other plants that tend to be more expensive because of the distance they have to be imported then yes, this would be completely worth it. It all just depends on what plants we are crossbreeding and how they are designed. There are some instances where it would be unnecessary though."

Graces hummed a reply and bit her lip as she thought something out.

"I wish I could see in that head of yours sometimes," Neville murmured after a while of staring at Graces.

"I don't," Graces laughed. "I quite like having my mind all to myself. I trained very hard to make sure no one could penetrate my thoughts."

"Did Snape train you?"

"No, why would you think that?" Graces frowned, as though that was just a preposterous question.

"He's your godfather, and he was helping Harry last year for a bit and—"

"He was helping Potter!" It was then that Neville realized that that was probably not something to tell Graces, and instead of answering outright, allowed his silence to answer for him. "Figures," Graces choked. "Fucking half-blood piece of dragon dung."

"I-I'm sure he cares about you," Neville offered lamely. "He-he was told to help Harry. He didn't even want to. He refused to help him too after a few tries."

"He doesn't care about me," Graces said softly. "I don't know what my father expected. A half-blood can't care and love for a magical child the way they should. They just don't have the capacity."

"Graces," Neville began cautiously. "Blood status has nothing to do with that. I know lots of people that are not purebloods that are amazingly kind and loving. Blood status has nothing to do with anything." Neville was about to continue and talk about how it was only used to divide their world, but stopped when he saw the way Graces was glaring at him.

"I hate when you say foolish things like that," Graces said darkly. "It's like you really don't realize or appreciate who we are."

"I appreciate our culture," Neville said patiently. "But I do not believe I'm better than anyone because my ancestors only slept with other witches and wizards."

"You are, though," Graces pressed, placing her hand on Neville's. "We were chosen. We can trace our family's lineage down from when the Gods gifted our family members with magic."

"Graces, that doesn't mean anything, it—"

"You think it was just random?" Graces asked in disbelief. "You think that we were chosen at random? We weren't. We were made different because we were better. We were meant to be better. We are better. Why would they make us different if we aren't different?"

"Graces, you don't know for sure that is how the gods felt," Neville countered, knowing he was on dangerous ground. "Some speculate that we were made different to work better with muggles. To protect them and—"

"And then they turned on us. We defeated dragons and battled with their kings and they tried to kill us. We had to go into hiding because of the genocide they were waging against us!"

"We had begun to try and take more power over them," Neville reminded, surprised at the harshness that was now in his voice.

"Because they were barbaric," Graces growled. "They wage war against one another and—"

"Then they are no more barbaric than we are."

"Our war is different."

"How?" Neville snorted. "How is it different? We're killing our own kind."

"Our war is about the preservation of our kind," Graces declared passionately.

"We preserve it by killing those that are a part of it. That is such an amazing plan," Neville scoffed.

"What do you know about being apart of it?" Graces queried darkly. "Your family abandoned it long ago."

"What are you talking about? My family still practices loads of traditions and—"

"No you don't. Your family adopted muggle traditions. Like Halloween. Your family hasn't come to a Samhain festival in forever."

"And your family has?"

"Of course, I go every year. All the Slytherins go every year. We all get mailed care packages with a portkey to the celebration."

"You're kidding," Neville deadpanned. "You actually go dance naked around a bonfire and slaughter animals in a field."

"You have no idea what has been denied to you," Graces said sadly. "Our holidays now have this stigma to them of being odd, because of muggleborns coming into our world and bringing in their puritanical beliefs."

"I think even by your definition dancing naked with hundreds of people around is not at all conservative. You blush when you wear revealing clothing, but you're telling me that you have no reservation being stark naked in front of all those men?"

"It's not like that," Graces dismissed. "It's completely different. It's spiritual."

Neville didn't seem to accept anything that Graces was saying. In fact he looked pretty bothered by Graces' holiday activities.

"You should come."

"What?"

"You should come," Graces repeated excitedly. "You should come to the festival. You're a pureblood, you would be completely welcome at the festival. Everyone puts all political feelings aside at them, it being a religious gathering and all, you could rediscover our culture and—"

"Graces," Neville interrupted softly. "I can't go to that festival. I'm my family's patriarch now, we decided long ago to not participate in those things, and I, well, I find it... odd."

"Please," Graces begged. "I-I'll do a disillusionment charm on you. No one will know you are there, you can portkey in with me and just watch it all from a distance. No one will know. And you can be with me," Graces added. "It's Thursday after the Halloween feast. Please, please. It would mean so much to me if you came."

Neville really wasn't sure if this was all a good idea, but he couldn't say no to Graces. Not when she seemed so excited about the possibility of him coming. And when she had invited him to something so dear to her. Praying that this wasn't going to turn into a mistake, he nodded.

"Really!" Graces squealed excitedly, lunging forward and hugging him.

"Yeah," Neville groaned, closing his arms around her as well. "But I am not, let me repeat, not getting naked, and you better make me invisible. I mean it, Graces, I do not want to be seen."

"Okay, okay, I promise," Graces swore, kissing him enthusiastically on the mouth, before spending the rest of the night telling him everything about what was going to happen Thursday.


	39. Chapter 39

Neville howled with laughter as Graces yelped and jumped about a foot in the air.

"You are not funny, Longbottom," Graces growled, moving towards where Neville was laughing, her arms out in front of her as her eyes looked around unseeing.

"I think I am," Neville teased, moving to the other side of the room and making Graces squeal again as he grabbed her side while passing by. "You're so ticklish!"

"You are not supposed to be tormenting me!" Graces whined, backing up into a corner and continuing to hold both hands out. "The festival is in two days and I have to make sure I can do this charm correctly. It has to last."

"Well, clearly you can do the charm correctly," Neville chuckled, enjoying how Graces eyes shifted warily to where she thought he was. "You can't see me."

"I hate you."

"You don't. _You like me_." Neville moved closer to the girl standing in the corner, careful to not allow her arms to touch him as he bent down on his knees before her. "In fact," he murmured huskily, untucking Graces' blouse from under her skirt and kissing her mid-drift. "You like me, like me." Graces jumped at his touch, but Neville continued kissing upward, unbuttoning her blouse as he climbed higher.

"This is weird," Graces shivered. "I can't see you."

"I know, it's part of the fun," Neville purred, copping a feel of Graces' backside and moving away as she took a swing at him.

"Longbottom!" Graces gasped, buttoning up her shirt. "What happened to you behaving like a gentleman?"

"I thought we were past me being a gentleman when I bent you over the desk Sunday."

"Longbottom!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Neville apologized gleefully, taking Graces hands and kissing her fingertips. "I'll behave now."

"Good," Graces clipped coolly, holding her nose up in the air at him.

"You're not mad," Neville smiled, watching Graces lovingly, thankful that he could look at her like this without her knowledge.

"How do you know? I could very well still be offended at you manhandling me."

"You're not mad," Neville repeated, moving closer so that the heat of his chest was radiating near hers. "I know you're not because you're still holding my hands."

Neville watched as Graces stared down at her hand hovering in midair, her delicate fingers curled around his hand without realizing it. He knew this was the sort of thing that would have Graces backing away in a few moments, but he still found himself wanting to test the waters. The past week had been amazing. They had been meeting alone almost every day and almost every night they ended up laughing and joking around with one another. Graces was so excited for the festival. She was constantly telling him something about it and prattling on about how he was going to just adore it and that by next year he would be joining in on the activities on his own. Neville really doubted that he would be. Most light wizards now considered this ritual a dark wizarding practice and he did not want that association, but he just smiled and said that they would see.

_Aww, yes here it comes,_ Neville thought, smiling tenderly at Graces as she blushed and took a step back. Neville ordinarily would allow her the space, but he felt so much more daring with her being unable to see him. Gently he took one hand and pressed it to her lower back so she could move no further and he could come closer. Graces seemed a bit startled at the gesture, but he just cupped her face kindly in his other hand and kissed her.

It was odd how kissing Graces at times felt like the first time. He was hyper aware of his lips against hers, of her content sigh as he leaned more into her and of her hands wandering from his spine to find his hair, where they could entangle themselves. Oh how he loved her in moments like this, moments where she allowed him to love her.

_She doesn't know you love her._

_I don't care,_ Neville thought, lifting Graces up and setting her gently on a desk. He laughed as she gave a little eep.

"Longbottom, I can't see you!" Graces scolded, her knuckles still gripping his shirt from when he lifted her.

"Sorry, I—uh—forgot," Neville blushed. "Wait. You're telling me that you can jump off a broom in midair but can't handle me lifting you up when you can't see me?"

"It's different," Graces giggled.

"You're right, it is," Neville conceded. "One can kill you."

Graces just shrugged and mumbled about how he worried too much.

"I think I worry the right amount," Neville murmured, leaning in close and kissing her again, grinning as Graces continued in her new habit of moving one of her hands up his shirt and mixing her fingers in the tousle of hair on his chest. He wondered if she had any idea how that new touch affected him. He wanted to press her hand closer so she could feel how hard his heart was pounding from it and at the same time he didn't want to do anything but revel in the soft touch and make love to her just as softly.

_She'll shy away._

_Maybe not. She can't see me, so..._

_She will be able to feel it. She can feel the difference._

_We'll see,_ Neville decided, slowly undressing her.

"I can't see you," Graces breathed, as he leaned down and trailed soft kisses along her collarbone.

"Well, you don't need to see me, do you?" Neville pointed out huskily, placing gentle kisses along the side of her jaw. "You just need to feel me."

Graces smiled and turned her head to his, meeting him in a longing kiss. Neville made sure to hold back from kissing her too hungrily, despite the fact that every fiber of his being wanted to have as much of her as possible. Still, he held himself back he wanted this all to be gentle and soft. He wanted to make love to her, savoring every touch he shared with her, not just have her the way he usually did. What surprised him the most about all this was that Graces seemed to be taking her time with it all too. Gingerly bringing her fingers up to his cheeks, as though she had been searching for his face, and sighing contently as they found their way into his hair.

"Always my hair," Neville smiled against her lips.

"I like your hair," Graces kissed back.

"You like me."

"I should have never told you," Graces giggled, still not moving her mouth from his and causing Neville to feel as though he were becoming intoxicated off the sweet sound against his lips.

"Well, I'm so glad you did," Neville whispered softly kissing her lower lip, and laying her down.

Neville had always known that sex was supposed to be used to show someone how you loved them, but in all his time being with Graces he had never really done that. He didn't kiss her body in ways that etched his love into her skin or held her close to him during their movements as though he couldn't bear the thought of living without her, but he wanted to. He wanted to make love to her like that. He wanted to be the kind of man that made love to the woman he cherished and proclaimed his love in a way that she could actually feel.

So far Graces was allowing him to do that, and even being as gentle with him as he was being with her, but it was right around the time where he had moved on top of her and was cradling her face in on hand about to enter her when he felt her tense. Her hands that had been wandering along his shoulders and neck halted and she moved away from his face, breaking their kiss.

"I-I'm sorry," she breathed, moving up and pushing him away from her. "I-I can't do this."

Neville reached out to try and soothe her, but backed away when Graces snapped at him not to touch her. The sandy-haired boy sighed but obeyed. He knew that he had been pushing the envelope with Graces and really wasn't too surprised at the state that they had now ended up in. He groped around the table for his trousers and half-heartedly dressed himself, trying to ignore the discomfort he was feeling in his groin.

"I-I'm sorry," Graces murmured, regaining herself. "I-I guess I got a little freaked out... Not being able to see you and us being about to...you know."

It was a lame lie, but Neville decided to allow her to keep it.

"It's fine," Neville said kindly, understanding how what he was doing actually scared her, but deciding not to point out that it was the intimacy. "You're fine, I understand." Neville kissed the side of Graces' head and moved behind her, rubbing her shoulders to try and help rid her of her anxieties. To his relief Graces seemed willing to accept this and didn't make a crazy excuse to leave like she normally would in these situations. Instead she leaned back on him, and though Neville could feel her trembling, she didn't leave.

"I really am sorry," Graces whispered after a while.

"I really don't mind," Neville reassured, smiling gently though he knew she couldn't see.

"You're always so patient."

"Mmm," Neville hummed. "A trait I supposedly got from my mother."

"That's a fine trait to have."

"I like to think so."

"Your gran doesn't seem patient."

"No, she's not," Neville chuckled, "but she has other admirable traits."

"Was she very hard on you growing up?"

"She's demanding."

"What's the difference?"

Neville was silent for a few minutes, clearly deep in thought about how to explain what he meant. Graces didn't rush him though, she just continued leaning on his chest waiting for a reply.

"She expects a lot out of me, but she has never withheld affection or comfort from me."

"She doesn't strike me as very affectionate."

"She has her own ways of showing affection."

"I always saw you as a bit frightened by her."

"I am wise enough to know when to be frightened of her," Neville laughed. "Have you met my gran? She can be pretty terrifying."

"So... you are frightened of her," Graces concluded slowly.

"I'm intimidated by her at times," Neville corrected. "And yes there are times I am scared for how she will react to something I did, but I'm not frightened of my grandmother, just frightened of her reaction."

"What does she do?"

"Just yells... and tells me how I'm not like my father," Neville added quietly.

"She shouldn't do that." Graces frowned, moving her hand to touch Neville's arm that was now around her. "She shouldn't compare you to your father like that. It isn't right."

"My father was a great man; she just wants me to be—"

"You can be a great man and not be the anything like your father. Often times great men step out of shadows. That includes the tall shadows their fathers cast as well."

There was a long silence in which Neville didn't say anything. He really didn't know what to say to that. He wanted to be like his father. It sounded so pathetic and childish to say though when Graces had so eloquently stated that he didn't need to be.

"You know," Graces started awkwardly. "I—uh—well, I think you are going to be a great man."

"Do you, now?" Neville frowned.

"Yeah, I mean why not?" Graces shrugged awkwardly. "You're a good man now, so it wouldn't be a great leap for you to become a great one."

Neville was all of the sudden extremely thankful that Graces couldn't see him right now. He didn't know why it meant so much that Graces thought of him this way, but it did. Knowing she felt he could be a great man, that she already thought he was a good man, made him feel as though everything was in his reach. She really believed that. Graces was not one to say nice things to make anyone feel better about themselves, and it sounded as though she really felt awkward delivering that compliment, so he knew she meant it. No one had ever had such faith in him before, and despite his best efforts to not get choked up about it he was.

He really wanted to believe that he was all the things Graces seemed to think of him, but at the same time he didn't know. His grandmother had raised him, she knew much more about him than Graces did and she didn't seem to hold the same beliefs. No one else besides Graces seemed to hold these beliefs.

"It's late," Graces pointed out awkwardly. "I need to go to bed. I think I have proven my brilliance and we can safely agree that my charm works."

Graces was now moving off the desk and pulling on her clothes.

"We can keep the charm on," Neville declared, as Graces reached for her wand. "I-I want to see exactly how long it lasts."

"Are you sure?" Graces frowned.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Well... okay then," Graces shrugged, clearly not understanding why Neville would want to remain under the charm. "Good night."

It was as Neville got up to kiss Graces goodbye that he realized that for days he had let her walk alone back to her common room with guys like Nott walking the halls.

"Actually, may I walk you to your common room?"

"Why?" Graces scowled.

"Because there are scumbags like Theodore Nott at this school, and I've been an idiot to let you walk back on your own."

"You're being paranoid," Graces smiled, leaning in and kissing Neville chastely on the lips. "I have a ring, remember? You said it would protect me."

"It will protect you from one thing and one thing only," Neville stressed, finding some discomfort in Graces' level of trust in that ring. "It will not save you from anything else."

Graces rolled her eyes, but allowed Neville to walk her under the condition that he didn't speak to her and if the charm started to wear off he would immediately leave. Side by side they walked to the dungeon, close enough so that their fingers would gently brush against the other's and Neville could feel the tickle of Graces' long hair wafting next to his elbow should he lean in slightly toward her.

"Graces?" Both students turned to see Draco heading down the hall towards them. He looked beyond tired, and there was a mixture of dust and cobwebs over his clothes. "What are you doing out of bed this late? _Alone!_ " Draco added, clearly not pleased.

"Late night tutoring, Longbottom," Graces explained simply.

"No. This is not okay, Graces. I do not want you out and about late like this. Do you understand me?"

"There are aurors patrolling the halls and—"

"I just walked past one of those aurors sleeping at his post. I'm walking around here all the time and no one has spotted me, so no you will not be walking around this late at night," Draco reprimanded hotly. "Tutoring Longbottom is not worth your safety."

Neville cringed at what Draco was saying and truly hated himself for forgetting to think about Graces walking alone in the castle at night. Draco only needed to see her walking alone once to realize the implications and it had taken him months.

"What if Longbottom started to walk me to the dorm? Then would you care if I was out so late?"

"Yes!" Draco whelped. "Why the hell do you need to be out with Longbottom so late?"

"Because I don't want to rush him. Rushing a guy when you're in the middle of a romp is a good way to screw yourself out of a good orgasm."

Neville's eyes widened at Graces' statement and it took all his effort not to pinch the sassy blonde next to him to shut up.

"WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME!" Draco wailed, covering his eyes. "IMAGES, GRACES. IMAGES! AWFUL, AWFUL IMAGES!"

"I'm kidding. I'm kidding," Graces laughed, allowing her brother a moment of peace before continuing with a sly smile. "Longbottom is a gentleman through and through, and by gentleman I mean he takes the phrase 'ladies first' very seriously. Even if he was rushed I would be satisfied."

Draco groaned and Neville did reach out and pinch the back of Graces arm for that comment.

"Why? Why did the gods curse me with such a vile sister!" Draco moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're really not funny. You're going to get yourself in trouble making jokes like that. I'm serious, Graces. If you have any amount of care in you for my nerves and stomach you will stop joking about that immediately."

Neville inwardly groaned as Graces just continued to smile knowingly, bopping up and down on her heels, clearly happy with tormenting her brother.

"You are not funny," Neville whispered in her ear as Draco groaned at her happy little display.

Neville had to stifle a grunt as Graces' elbow met his stomach, but the blonde continued looking quite satisfied with herself.

"Seriously though, Draco. Can Longbottom just walk me?"

"Don't you want to be with your kind?" Draco asked astonished. "Why are you so insistent on spending time with Longbottom? You know I had to lie to Blaise and Pansy about it the other day. I said you were still in your life debt to him. The thing is, I don't understand why I even need to lie. Why are you still spending this much time with him?"

Neville looked at Graces and waited for her to answer. There really wasn't a good explanation of why she was spending so much time with him and he had a bad feeling that he was about to lose his time with her.

"I can't stand being in the common room without you there," Graces swallowed. "It's—it feels wrong. And then Nott is always in there, and I feel like he is watching me, and I-I just can't be around him either. Tutoring Longbottom allows me to be away from all that."

"Yeah, but then you're with Longbottom," Draco reminded, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "And—and he fancies you. That can't be much better."

"It is though," Graces argued. "He works hard and we spend lots of time discussing potions and herbology. Last week we were discussing ways to cross breed plants and the affects it could have on the market for medicinal use. Can you imagine how much cheaper certain medicinal potions would be if that was done? It's all very interesting, and if I become a healer I was thinking we could invest in research for something like that."

" _When_ you become a healer," Draco corrected, taking his sister's bag and putting it over his shoulder and giving her a long look. "Fine," he sighed. "You can continue on with late nights with Longbottom. If you give me a time, though, I can walk you back."

"Longbottom is capable, he tends to go off on these long rants that put us behind, so I would feel bad if you got there and we still were not finished."

"You let him go on these rants?"

"He may be awful with potions, but he is brilliant when it comes to herbology. So, yes, I let him rant. It's a good distraction for me."

"I never would have guessed that you could have a decent conversation with Longbottom," Draco murmured, astonished. Graces just shrugged and fiddled with her left ring finger awkwardly, clearly wanting Draco to get off the subject. "Well, come on. Let's head to bed. Our care packages are coming tomorrow, that will be nice won't it?"

Graces nodded and turned to walk with her brother. Neville saw her eyes shifting to her side and knew she was wondering if he was leaving as well. Careful not to disturb Draco in any way, he reached out and squeezed her hand affectionately good night before starting in the other direction.

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Neville watched Graces over the top of his herbology book the next morning at breakfast. He made sure not to be too obvious about the fact that he was watching her and trained his eyes to look down into the book more often than they were peeking over it to look at her, but watching Graces enjoy her morning breakfast was definitely the highlight of his day thus far.

He never thought he could cherish someone as much as he did Graces. Everything about her day mattered to him. He cared if she had a good breakfast just as much as he cared if she scored well on an exam. He wanted her to be happy. There was nothing too little or small about her day to him. He looked up for his next glance and grinned into his book after seeing Draco whisper some sort of joke into her ear.

"Morning, Neville."

"Morning, Harry," Neville greeted, taking a sip of his tea and returning to the herbology book. He honestly didn't want company this morning, he was fine reading and having a quiet cup of tea to himself.

"So—uh—Neville, I was wondering on a scale from one to ten, one being you're no longer mad and ten being you're as furious as a Hungarian Horntail, how mad are you at Hermione still?"

Neville glanced up at his friend for a moment, before looking back down at his book.

"Ten."

"Seriously?" Harry asked astounded. "A ten?"

"Did she tell you what she did?"

"No..."

"It warrants a ten."

"What did she do?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Neville grumbled, turning a page in his book and hiding between the pages. Harry seemed to understand that he wanted the conversation over and stood up to take a seat next to Hermione who was sitting alone also pretending to read, but shifting her eyes off the page towards Neville now and again.

Neville really did want to forgive Hermione, but at the same time he couldn't let go of the fact that she told Graces to keep away from him. What if she had listened? They were already in a bad place at the time and it wouldn't have been an insanely shocking thing for Graces to do. The thought of being without her like that made him sick. Hermione was now becoming a threat to his happiness. He knew she meant well, that she didn't know that Graces and him actually had a thing going on between them, but at the same time she shouldn't have been putting her nose in his business either. What if Graces and him hadn't been a thing and she told her he liked her? Neville flushed at the thought. It would have been mortifying if Hermione had told Graces his feelings towards her if he had kept it a secret.

Neville was distracted from his thoughts when a slew of owls came into the Great Hall delivering mail. He couldn't help but feel homesick as his gran's owl flew down delivering him a package of cauldron cakes for Halloween tomorrow, as well as a long letter telling him about her plans to meet with a few friends of hers in Diagon Alley after she visited his parents at St. Mungos. Neville wondered if Graces care package had arrived and looked up to see two boxes in front of her. Graces seemed to have opened the first one and was now onto the second smaller box which he found out contained a silver armband in the shape of a dragon. Graces smiled excitedly and looked over at Draco to see that he had a similar larger version.

_Those must be the portkeys_ , Neville thought unable to not smile warmly at the sight of the twins placing the piece of jewelry on the arms and putting them together to see how the pair looked.

It was as Graces was gingerly putting away her dragon that Draco reached into his bag and discreetly put a small white box with a purple laced bow beside his sister's arm. It took Graces a few moments to realize it was there, but when she did she looked warily at her brother who just continued to read his paper.

Neville watched as she opened the gift suspiciously, looking over at her brother every few seconds before removing the lid. Graces stilled and touched her fingertips to her mouth before looking over at her brother and asking loud enough for even him to hear.

"Are these really mine? You're serious?"

Draco put down his paper and looked over at Graces and the box before airily waving that they were indeed hers. Graces squealed with pleasure and tackled him in what looked to be a bone crushing hug while she repeated endless thank yous and kissed probably the whole side of Draco's face, causing him to laugh heartily while pushing her away.

It appeared that whatever Draco gave Graces was a big deal, because all of Slytherin, minus Nott, was hovered over the tiny box clearly impressed with the gift. Draco however had lost his carefree look and was now pointing a demanding finger at his sister and seemed to be listing off conditions of the gift she had just received. But Graces didn't seem at all put off by any of the conditions. She just nodded along excitedly and when her brother finished telling her the long list of rules she thanked him again and kissed him chastly on the lips.

Neville grinned and read for the rest of breakfast, taking his time soaking up the distinction in certain mandrake roots across the world, before packing up to go to herbology. Today, he decided, was going to be a very lazy casual day. Graces was in a good mood, he was in a good mood, the sky above was a bit cloudy with ending October rain, and he wanted nothing more for tonight then to have a pot of hot tea, his gran's cauldron cakes, and time with Graces.

"Good morning," he greeted quietly taking his seat next to her.

"Morning."

Neville looked around to see if anyone was watching, and when the coast was clear looked over impatiently at Graces.

"What?" Graces asked with false innocence.

"You know what," Neville smiled, glad they were at the front of the class and no one could see their interactions so long as they faced forward. "What did you get?"

Graces pursed her lips trying not to smile widely and moved a tool so that it was straightened on the desk.

"Were you spying on me, Mr Longbottom?" she teased.

"Possibly," Neville shrugged, smiling softly down at the desk. "Now, are you going to tell me what Draco got you?"

Graces looked around the room, before grinning widely at Neville. "Dragon scales!" she whispered excitedly, covering her mouth as an excited giggle escaped. "Can you believe it? He gave me the dragon scales from when our, too many greats to mention, grandfather Armand Malfoy trained a dragon in service to a muggle king to gain land and wealth. He was the first of our ancestors to leave France. He spent everything he had for the trip and a Antipodean Opaleye dragon egg."

"Your ancestor helped a muggle?"

"Well, helped a muggle kill other muggles."

"That sounds about right," Neville nodded, rolling his eyes. "So these scales, what are you going to do with them?"

"Implant them into my skin," Graces smiled wickedly. "I've wanted to do it for ages, but father said no. He said "Graces, your mother and I did an incredible job of making you perfect, and I will not allow you to muddle with the perfect skin you were given." He can be so old fashioned sometimes," Graces pouted, as though her father were there now denying her request. "BUT Draco is giving me some to do it now that he is the patriarch and in charge of all the vaults! Oh wait til you see how pretty they are!"

"You're putting a dead dragon's scales in your skin," Neville said slowly, clearly finding this whole idea odd.

"It was a common practice long ago, but it just isn't practiced that much anymore," Graces pointed out, with a shrug. "Wizards and witches would defeat dragons that were running wild burning villages. They would then wear the scales under their skin as a badge of honor for all to see. Then other wizards, ones with a talent for working with magical creatures, started training them. This is what my ancestor did, and after the dragon passed they kept some scales for themselves for this practice, and entombed their dragon as family."

"And this will permanently be in your skin..."

"Yes, of course," Graces snapped. "Ugh! You're supposed to be excited about this. It's going to look amazing. Sometimes I forget you were raised by people old enough to have sired my father."

"I'm sorry," Neville blushed. "Really, I am. I, well, I was just a bit shocked by it all. You never struck me as the body modification type."

"Well I am," Graces huffed, slamming open her herbology book.

"I'm sorry," Neville repeated. "I really am excited to see what they look like on."

Graces peeked over at Neville obviously trying to decide if she wanted to stay moody with him or allow his trespasses to go on unpunished. Neville felt a great relief when her face softened and she gave a coy smile.

"About that," she started nervously. "I was hoping you would put them on for me..."

"Wh-what?"

"You have such a steady hand when it comes to pruning plants and I got a peek of the drawing of flowers in your notebook, so I was hoping you would implant the scales for me."

Neville could not even try to hide the discomfort on his face. He really didn't want to say no to Graces, especially when she was looking at him pleadingly, but at the same time he didn't want to be responsible if he messed this up.

"Why can't Draco do it?"

"Well," Graces intoned slowly. "I want it on a pretty risque area and I really would rather my brother not spend so much time there."

"Oh, but you have no reservations dancing naked with him and a whole bunch of other people," Neville deadpanned. "That makes sense."

"Careful, Longbottom," Graces sang. "Another remark like that and I may use an unforgivable on you."

"Well, aren't you a sweetheart," Neville chided, smiling over at Graces.

"So will you do it?" Graces asked, looking at Neville pressingly

"Graces, I'll just mess it up," he cautioned.

"You won't. I have faith in you."

Neville wondered if Graces understood that her faith in him was part of the reason he was so nervous to do this, but he agreed to think about it and the pair of them continued to do their work for the rest of class agreeing to meet up later that evening.

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"Are you ready?" Graces squealed excitedly, bounding into the room.

"No."

"Well, that's too bad," Graces smiled, ignoring Neville's melancholy attitude. "Cause I am."

"Are you sure you want me doing this?" Neville asked nervously, fidgeting with his wand and standing in the middle of the room. "Have you seen the mess I've made of things before this?"

"I want you to do this," Graces reassured. "I trust you. I'm comfortable with you. And you have a steady hand."

"I drop things all the time," Neville argued, feeling the first surge of panic being released into his veins as Graces took out the small box and a blue vial. "I-I can barely make it through a paper without spilling my inkwell all over it."

"I'm not a paper," Graces pointed out calmly, transfiguring four books into pillows.

"You know what I mean," Neville rasped taking a step back. "I can't do this."

Grces turned and her eyes caught Neville's. It was in that moment she saw the boy she had grown up with in these stone halls. The nervous, self-conscious, self-doubting young boy that would rather err on the side of caution and not be noticed then disappoint anyone. He had barely just began to trust himself and now with her trusting him he was frightened.

"Let's have a drink," Graces suggested, taking out a bottle of wine and a single wine glass. "Take some of the edge off."

"I-I don't think that's a good idea," Neville stuttered, his posture rigid as he took a step back.

Graces poured the deep red liquid, not caring for Neville's reply, and held out the glass.

Neville continued to deny the drink though and just shook his head. "You want me to permanently modify your body and you're offering me a drink."

"I want you to relax," Graces whispered, taking Neville by the hand and leading him down to the pillows on the ground. "Let me help you relax," she continued, moving a leg on each side of him so that Neville sat pressed between the soft pillows and her.

Graces took a long sip of wine as she straddled the nervous boy under her. She could feel Neville's eyes on her throat as she swallowed the liquid down, and tried hard to look as confident as she was acting.

"Here have a drink," she commanded, leaning into him and bringing the delicate glass to his lips.

Neville obeyed, taking a small sip of the wine though his eyes still were trained on hers.

"See? Just relax." Graces smiled, placing the wine glass down and kissing the boy underneath her allowing him to taste more of the drink on her lips. "Let me help you relax," she repeated, moving her hands to the buttons of his shirt before jerking it down his broad shoulders.

"Graces," Neville whispered, his breath hitching as she moved her hands down his bare chest. "I can't. I really can't."

"You can,"Graces stressed, leaning forward and catching his lips with her own. "I trust you, my magic trusts you, and my body trusts you. I trusted you in the greenhouse and I'm trusting you now." Graces could feel Neville's body tighten underneath hers; and she gently nuzzled her nose against his neck. "Trust me that I know what I want."

Neville still seemed hesitant, but slowly he brought his lips back up to hers and before long he was opening his mouth to her, pulling her in closer as he trailed his tongue down the column of her throat.

Graces smiled as Neville began taking over the escapade. As insecure as he was in potions, he always seemed to be comfortable in this. He knew her body. She didn't know, or understand how, but he knew it. Graces writhed with anticipation as his thumbs caressed the underside of her breasts, before trailing down to the waist of her panties demanding them to be taken off.

It was a demand she had no hesitation in following. Every fiber of her skin demanded to be caressed more by the man underneath her and the area between her legs was wet and aching to have him inside her.

"Slow down," Neville chuckled.

"I don't want to slow down," Graces panted, grinding against him as she fumbled with his belt.

"Yes you do," Neville smiled, nibbling at the base of her collarbone while he moved his fingers to the nub over her sex, causing that familiar heat to build inside her. "I'll enter you when I'm ready," he continued, moving his lips down to the peaks of her breasts.

"You feel ready," Graces challenged, referring to Neville's swollen member that was bulging under his trousers.

"He's a little too ready," Neville laughed rolling Graces over so that she was now the one underneath him.

"I don't care," Graces breathed, unable to stand the tension building in her as Neville continued teasing her with his fingers.

"Yeah?" Graces groaned as she felt Neville's tongue trace her lower lip and heard the zipper of his trousers. "Say you want me," Neville requested huskily, his throbbing need against her entrance.

"I want you," she promised, her fingers finding his hair as her lips captured his. She felt Neville's strong hands grab her by the hips and in one swift thrust they were one. He moved in her without apology: pushing forward and out creating more of that tension within her. His kisses had become erratic and Graces had no idea of where to expect to feel his tongue next, but she didn't really care. All she did care about was how much firmer each thrust was becoming and how she was trembling in the wake of them.

"You're so beautiful," Neville rasped, his mouth along her jaw line. "I don't know how I'm ever going to give you up."

Graces, not knowing what to say, just lifted her hips to Neville's moving with him to bring them closer to their peak. There was so many things that the two of them could never share together, but this was not one of them. She and Neville could have this. Pleasure and passion ignited like fire to gasoline. They could share this and have these memories with them always.

She felt her core tighten around him and with Neville's next moment her body gave way convulsing underneath him, causing Neville to spiral down into the same abyss with her.

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As Neville finished the outline of where he was going to place each scale on Graces' outer thigh and ribs, it suddenly dawned on him what the real danger of loving a slytherin was.

"I'm never going to be able to say no to you, am I?"

"Well, I would like for you to never deny me anything I want," Graces laughed, her fourth glass of wine obviously putting her in a very good mood. "But I suspect you will from time to time. Just expect me to make it very hard for you."

It took Neville a moment to realize why Graces was laughing so hard, but he eventually caught on.

"You're such a minx," he scoffed playfully.

"Don't be sore," Graces giggled. "You are perfectly capable of doing this for me. You just needed to relax... I helped you with that," she winked.

"I don't know why you insist on it being me," Neville groaned.

"I have my reasons," Graces sighed, laying down and looking away from him. Neville watched as she seemed to go somewhere dark in her thoughts, and felt a tinge of sorrow that he continued to fight her on this. It apparently meant a lot to Graces that he be the one to do it.

"Come look at what I'm planning," he said, trying to make her happy once again. "So I was thinking we would embed some of the scales here along your outer thigh and hip. Not covering, just here and there. Give the illusion that there is more under your skin that could come out. Fading here, bold here." Graces nodded along, clearly liking the rough drawing that Neville laid out. "Now, so that it has a better flow, I was thinking we can place some sparsely along your ribs. Here, here, and here."

"Not there," Graces shot down, pointing to where Neville planned to have scales along the her side where the heart was. "It's a cowards mark to guard such a vital organ with dragon scales."

"I would call it sensible," Neville argued, with a frown. "Considering they are hard to peirce and spells rebound off them. You should want the protection."

"No, I want to appear strong. Move the scales lower."

Neville wanted to argue. He had purposely thought to put those scales where Graces could have protection. It was the one part of this whole affair he was happy about, but he didn't argue. It wasn't his body to argue over. Begrudgingly he made another outline that Graces approved of.

"You ready for the scales?" Neville asked, opening the small box and looking down at the dragon scales placed neatly within. "Wow."

"I know, aren't they beautiful?" Graces sighed, leaning up to look inside the box. "This isn't just some dead dragons scales, this is the dragon that paved the way for our family. My grandfather Armand risked everything buying this dragon as an egg. If he wouldn't have been able to train her he would have ended up with nothing... We would have been nothing. Poorer than the Weasleys... Not to mention the dragon would have probably killed him. It was more likely that she would. But she didn't. She obeyed him, and she took down armies with him. William the conqueror was nothing without my grandfather. These scales are a symbol of all that. We are a proud house, we came from humble beginnings and rose up to greatness."

"That is something special," Neville agreed, admiring the small button sized opal colored scales. The mixture of white, purples, pinks, blues, and greens shimmered as though they were living and he could only imagine how stunning they were going to look once he put them against Graces' porcelain skin. "Remind me again how this will work."

"Well, you will do one scale at a time," Graces explained. "First you place some of that salve onto my skin with that special paint brush, my skin will liquify in that area and you will put the scale on before brushing a healing potion on. If you want the scale to be somewhat covered with my skin you just have to move it deeper into the epidermal layers of my skin before allowing the healing solution on."

"This sounds incredibly painful," Neville muttered warily.

"Well, it most certainly won't be pleasant," Graces agreed, finishing off her glass of wine. "I'm ready when you are."

Neville nodded and dipped the tip of the brush in the blue liquid that would melt Graces skin. He hovered over her thigh, not able to bring himself to start. Would it hurt her a lot? What would happen if he got it on an area where a scale was not going? A whole list of questions continued to go on in his head. A list that he just couldn't ignore. Deciding that he needed to find out, he brought the end of the brush to his own palm.

"Oh! Bloody hell!" Neville hissed, the small dab on his palm searing in pain. He felt as though a fire had been ignited under his skin as the tissue bubbled like a potion in a cauldron. Quickly he reached for the healing vial and with fumbling hands he applied the healing salve, taking a relieved breath as the pain diminished.

"Well," Graces began nonplussed. "Now that you have that out of your system..."

"Do you have any idea how much this stuff hurts?" Neville asked. his eyes widened with knowledge.

"I have an idea," Graces shrugged, pointing to the bottle of wine.

"I don't think one bottle is enough," Neville said, looking down at the mutilated patch of skin on his hand.

"Let me see it," Graces commanded. "Ugh, Longbottom. Why do you insist on doing foolish Gryffindor things? I can't do anything about this. Now, you shall have a scar."

"It's the size of an ink drop," Neville shrugged. "I think I will live. However, you are planning on me doing this to a much greater area."

"The scaring won't show on me," Graces pointed out, waving her hands about. "I'll have beautiful dragon scales covering them up."

"Graces, I-"

"Longbottom, please," Graces whined. "You can do this. Just keep within the lines and position the scales correctly."

"Yeah, but what if I-"

"Then I have a scar where no one is even able to see," Graces groaned, clearly having lost her patience. "It won't even matter. Honestly, I would just tell Draco and he would give me another scale to cover it up. You can't do anything that is irreparable, Longbottom. I swear. But the point is that I want you to do this for me. I could have asked Pansy or anyone else, and I didn't. I'm asking you."

Neville sat there considering what Graces just said. He honestly still didn't want to do this. The thought of messing up and failing her made him sick. But apparently not being the one to do it was failing her. Graces seemed to find some sort of meaning in him being the one to do this, and after hearing what the scales meant to her he understood that this continued denying of her wish was probably very disrespectful, and yet she was trying to be patient with him about the situation, because she knew it made him uncomfortable.

_She's not being that patient._

_She is by Graces' standards._

"Okay," Neville relented, dipping the brush into the blue vial. "Are you ready?" Graces nodded, and Neville slowly began to trace the outline of the first scale he was going to put down, making sure to take his time and not rush.

"Gods and goddesses that does hurt," Graces grunted.

"I warned you," Neville murmured, concentrating on moving a scale perfectly over the skin.

"Will you distract me?" Graces panted, closing her eyes tightly.

Neville finished the scale he was working on, before taking a moment to think of something to distract Graces with.

"What was in the bigger package this morning?" he asked, moving onto another patch of skin.

"A satin robe," Graces panted. "It's blue and - _Merde!_ \- sorry," Graces blushed, embarrassed for her very unladylike outburst. "Uh-where was I? Oh, yes. It's blue and white."

"Your family crest colors," Neville remembered aloud. "And it's for the festival?"

"Yep," Graces confirmed tightly.

"So you're not naked the whole time?"

"You really need to get over that, Longbottom," Graces grunted, her breath becoming labored.

Neville glanced up from his work for a moment, but decided to hold his tongue.

"Who sent you the robe?"

Graces stopped her labored breath, and Neville frowned as her body went rigid under his hand.

"My-uh- aunt..."

"Oh..."

There was a long silence after that. Neville concentrated on what he was doing and put away the thought of Graces' aunt, knowing that dwelling on such realities would only hurt his relationship with Graces.

"Longbottom, I-"

"This is going to look really amazing," Neville interrupted. "I'm actually not doing a bad job at all. It's exactly what I was thinking. A few more here and we can put the five on your ribs and be done."

Graces looked over at him sadly for a moment before nodding and laying back down.

_See, only brings pain,_ Neville thought sadly.

"So you know," Graces began quietly. "I won't care should you ever seek revenge and kill her."

Neville paused for a moment before looking up. "You wouldn't mind if I killed your aunt. Your flesh and blood?"

"My mother loves her sister," Graces sighed. "I think she sees her as all she has left in many ways. She remembers playing around the house, sharing clothes, all that sisterly love... but she's... mad... cruel... I-I would want you to have that closure."

Neville felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him to the point where he was almost trembling.

"Longbottom?"

"I-I just can't talk about this," Neville rasped.

"Oh," Graces whispered, going quiet.

"It's not because of you," Neville said quietly. "I just don't want to be the kind of man that sits and discusses killing someone because of his need for revenge. I-I'm ashamed that I even think about it. I'm...I'm ashamed I like to think about it..."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting revenge on someone who has wronged you like my aunt," Graces argued, moving her hand over his.

"And if the opportunity ever arises I will not hesitate to take it," Neville stated evenly. "But I am not going to think on my hatred for hours and hours in the day. It will just become a poison within me. Leaving no room for all the good things that come into my life. Like you," Neville pointed out smiling. "If I drank that hate daily I would have never have looked at you. And I'm so glad I'm with you right now, Graces."

"Really?" Graces asked, her voice broken with emotion.

"Really," Neville promised leaning in and brushing his lips against hers', and releasing a longing breath as Graces added more pressure to the kiss.

"I'm glad to be here with you right now too," she murmured lying back down, leaving Neville to go back to his work as he smiled the rest of the night to himself, unknowing that Graces was smiling to herself as well.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably my most favorite chapter to write. I had a ton of things to research and I think it took hours just to figure out all that would go into a holiday like this, but I absolutely love the end result. 
> 
> The poem they say to get into the Slytherin Dungeons was not written by me. It's Dear Ancestor by Butler Palmer

"You're wearing _that?"_

Neville took a deep breath to keep himself from making any kind of negative retort back. It was finally Halloween. He had been nervous and excitedly anxious for this evening all day. He hadn't even really been able to enjoy the Halloween feast, all he could think about was the Samhain festival with Graces. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the festival itself, but he was looking forward to sharing in something that meant so much to the woman he was continuously falling more in love with. However, Graces, the ridiculous witch that she was, now seemed to be the one that was riddled with self-doubt and anxiety over him coming.

"Yes, I am," he stated firmly. "Is that a problem?"

"You're just so... layered."

"I believe we agreed that I would not have to be naked for this excursion."

"Yes, but do you have to be so clothed?" she asked, a hint of hysteria in her voice. "It will make it harder for you to move past people unnoticed. Also, couldn't you have worn something that will display your house?"

"I take it you mean my family's colors." Neville sighed.

"Yes! I mean, I know no one is going to be able to see you, but the Gods can, and it wouldn't kill you to show some sort of display of respect towards them," Graces chastised, wrinkling her nose at his plain black winter coat.

"I think the gods would be aware of who I am and what house I am from," Neville said slowly, making sure to keep his voice carefully neutral. "Also, if you are worried about the bulkiness of my coat, I will leave it in your room."

"Right... my room," Graces echoed quietly.

"Do you no longer wish me to accompany you to your dorm?" Neville was now feeling exceptionally awkward. The plan was for them to meet in the classroom where she would charm him invisible before heading to the Slytherin dorms where he would portkey in with her and the rest of the Slytherins. Part of this plan included him staying at her side the whole time, even when she went up to the girls' dormitories to wait until the time to leave.

"No, it's fine," Graces dismissed quickly. "We're keeping to the original plan. I can't have you just standing in our common area, nor can I get you right before it's time to go. Just... just be sure no one senses your presence."

"Trust me, Graces, the last thing I want is to have the whole Slytherin house discover me in their common room. Or for that matter your brother discover me in your dorm room," Neville added, a jolt of actual fear running through him.

"Hey, I did warn him that I was shagging you," Graces reminded playfully.

"Yeah, you know... probably not the smartest thing to be teasing your brother with," Neville warned, his voice slightly higher.

"Oh, he would never believe it," Graces said with a wave of her hand.

"Not the point," Neville groaned.

Graces raised her chin a fraction and surveyed Neville for a moment.

"Then what is the point?" she asked curiously, taking a step near to him.

"Its-its just not a joking matter," Neville blushed. "I mean what we do and all. It's... it's... well, you shouldn't be adding unnecessary risk," Neville scolded, changing the line of his reasoning.

"Longbottom," Graces smiled, smoothing his hair. "You worry and think too much." Neville didn't have a chance to retort as Graces stood higher on her tip toes and kissed away anything he might have said. In the back of his head he was grumbling about how he was tied around her finger while the rest of him just melted to her wishes. "It's fun teasing Draco. Think of it as me torturing him for all the awful things he has done to you."

"You're going to be teasing him for a long time then," Neville snorted.

"I know... I think I'm up for the challenge though," Graces mused, taking out her wand. "Are you ready?"

"Are you ready?" Neville questioned, giving Graces a look.

Graces hesitated for a moment, her eyes shifting around as though she were trying to calculate the answer to some harder question. "I am," she stated finally after a deep breathe. "Just please be careful."

"I will," Neville promised.

"I still wish you would have worn some light formal robes."

"No Gods worth worshipping will smite me down for such foolishness," Neville quipped, smiling at Graces' nervousness.

"Longbottom, do me a favor and take a step away from me when you make such comments. I don't want a bolt of lightning hitting me as it heads for you."

"Everything is going to be fine," Neville chuckled, placing a soft kiss on Graces' forehead. "Now, make me invisible and let's get this over with."

Neville could not believe he was about to enter the Slytherin common room or that Graces had taken him all through the halls to get there.

"It's behind this wall," Graces whispered. "Stay close and don't fall behind." Neville nodded, though he knew Graces had no way of seeing and followed her behind a wall.

"You're not worried I will remember the password?" Neville whispered teasingly as Graces was about to begin.

The blonde stopped and raised a challenging eyebrow at Neville's joke before turning around to the stone wall.

" _Your tombstone stands among the rest;_

_neglected and alone_

_The name and date are chiseled out_

_on polished, marbled stone_

_It reaches out to all who care_

_It is too late to mourn_

_You did not know that I'd exist_

_You died and I was born._

_Yet each of us are cells of you_

_in flesh, in blood, in bone._

_Our blood contracts and beats a pulse_

_not entirely our own._

_Dear Ancestor, the place you filled_

_one hundred years ago_

_Spreads out among the ones you left_

_who would have loved you so._

_I wonder if you lived and loved,_

_I wonder if you knew_

_That someday I would find this spot,_

_and come to visit you."_

"I love that poem."

"Graham," Graces smiled, as the passage to the Slytherin dorm opened. "I didn't see you standing there."

"I didn't make my presence known," the older boy grinned, beginning to walk through the hall his hands politely at his back.

"Were you there long?"

"I came in at about Dear Ancestor."

"Ah," Graces breathed, a look of relief coming into her features.

"Higgs is having a problem with it. I really feel awful for the kid," Graham continued. "I get that it's only for one day, but it's painful to see him stuttering through it."

"Then why not come up and say it for him," Graces clipped cooly, a hint of venom in her voice.

"Now now, Malfoy, put the claws away. I just don't want to embarrass the boy by coming in and interrupting him. That would have basically been telling him he couldn't do it, or I was sick of listening to him trying to do it."

"I suppose you're right," Graces grumbled.

"Is it your favorite poem for the night?" Graham asked pleasantly as they entered the common room.

"It is," Graces nodded. Neville was surprised by how calm and polite Graces was being. He expected her to be curt and anxious. He knew he was. He knew the Slytherin couldn't see him, but he still worried that the broad boy would move and discover that he and Graces were not alone.

"Make sure to come say hello to my mother tonight, will you? She's been asking about you since the Quidditch game."

"Has she?" Graces asked surprised. "I wasn't aware. I would have written her had I known."

"Yeah." _Merlin's beard! He's the captain. He's the one that kissed her._ "She seems to think that it's my fault you hurt your arm," the burley boy chuckled. "Says if I wasn't so hard on you, yelling and whatnot, that you wouldn't have done something so stupid to win."

"That's silly," Graces scoffed. "I'm a big girl and your yelling doesn't intimidate me at all."

"That's what I told her. I said that my yelling at you does nothing because my words could never penetrate that thick skull of yours."

"Watch it, Montague," Graces warned.

"Right, right. I'll see you tonight, Malfoy." Neville expected that to be the end of the exchange, but before Montague left he took both Graces' hands and murmured "blessed be" to which Graces bowed her head slightly and whispered "merry meetings."

"Isn't that the bloke that kissed you?" Neville whispered after the older boy was out of earshot, unable to keep himself from asking. To his great annoyance Graces ignored his question and continued walking bowing her head and murmuring a "blessed be" or "merry meetings" to other Slytherins as she passed them. Neville knew it was silly of him to care, but seeing her interaction with the boy on comfortable, friendly terms bothered him in a way especially when the thought entered his head that this boy, the one that kissed her on the quidditch pitch for all to see, was about to see her naked.

_If she has celebrated this her whole life he already has._

Neville inwardly groaned at the thought that just entered his mind and now, despite himself, felt exceptionally jealous.

"Graces!" Neville quickly moved to the side as Pansy Parkinson leaped forward at Graces' entrance to the 6th year girls' room, hugging the blonde closely to her. "Happy Samhain! Aren't you excited? I just can't wait!"

"Merry meetings," Graces greeted brightly, standing higher on her toes, looking over Pansy's shoulder and greeting Millicent with a "merry meetings" as well.

"Merry meetings," Millicent nodded from the bed.

"Did you see the portkey my mother sent me?" Pansy exclaimed, gaining the attention back to her. Neville quickly looked away as Pansy moved her hand to the opening of her purple satin robe. "It was my grandmother's."

Neville imagined loads of other boys would have jumped for the opportunity he had right now: being invisible in a girls room while three girls moved about with no reservations toward their own nudity, but he just hated it. He didn't even look as Graces herself began to remove her clothing. He felt intrusive standing in that room and wanted nothing more than to wait outside. But as that option wasn't an option he tried to ignore his discomfort with having three half-naked girls waltzing around him and focused on taking in his surroundings.

Despite the fire that was raging along the wall and the warmth that was on his skin, Neville found the room cold. Dark green drapes hung along the wall, accenting the dark mahogany wood of the furniture and a green glow from being under the lake illuminated most of the floor. While many comforts of home were around the girls' beds and dressers, he still couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness in the room. It wasn't cozy armchairs in the corners; it was elegant cathedras. Drawers were neatly tucked in their nooks, and not even a spare rucksack was along the ground. It didn't invite any warmth at all in Neville's opinion. It felt more like a showcase than a home away from home.

However the girls didn't seem to feel that way about the room at all. Laughter flitted through the air and all three girls were now huddled on Graces' bed, completely at home within this dungeon.

"We should have a drink," Graces suggested, moving to the side of the bed and taking out a bottle of wine along with three goblets.

"Yes, please!" Pansy, of course, exclaimed delightedly, taking the goblet as Graces passed it over.

"Millie?"

The burlier girl nodded her head slowly and thanked Graces for the glass. Neville remembered Graces mentioning that Millicent didn't drink, and that was exceptionally obvious now as she took a swig and puckered her lips as the taste of the alcohol hit her.

"Well, Millicent Bulstrode, look at you," Pansy smiled, taking the girl's arm and hugging it close. "Drinking in the dorms. Next step is drinking at the parties."

"Don't get used to it, Parkinson," Millicent grumbled. "It's just for tonight."

"Trying to take the edge off before the festival?" Graces surmised.

"Yeah..." Millicent blushed, moving her hands and tightly closing her robes together. "Don't get me wrong, I'm excited and I know it will be fun, but I always feel anxious beforehand."

Neville could only imagine how Millicent Bulstrode felt about getting naked in front of so many people. While Graces and Pansy enjoyed their long silk robes that fell down their long legs and hugged their bodies, complementing their curves, Millicent clutched at a robe that was more akin to a dressing gown. She wasn't built like the other girls. She was burly with wide shoulders and a jutting jaw. On multiple occasions he had heard her called unflattering names by girls and boys alike in his house. Even Harry once commented that she looked like a hag out of "Holidays with Hags". Millicent, unlike Graces and Pansy, didn't glide through the halls. She trod, lacking grace as well as beauty.

"I think we all get a little anxious beforehand," Graces comforted gently, taking the bottle and filling up Millicent's wine goblet more. "We're human and our insecurities are always weighing heavily on our minds. But tonight is about putting away those worldly thoughts and being one with our spirit and the spirits around us."

Both other girls nodded in agreement and quickly moved off the topic, choosing to discuss their excitement over the holiday rather than their worries. Neville quietly took off his bulky jacket and scarf and moved to sit quietly behind Graces on the bed as she talked. There was a slight pause as he took the seat, but Graces seemed to enjoy having him there and moved slightly back so that she was touching him.

"We better head down," Pansy noted, finishing her wine and standing up to lead the other girls out into the common room. Neville followed close behind and felt a warm glow of affection fill him as Graces took Millicents hand and gave it a squeeze while descending the stairs, obviously wanting to give the girl some comfort as they walked to meet with the rest of their house.

Neville didn't know how he was going to prevent himself from bumping into anyone as they made their way on the floor. Younger years were running around excitedly as older years grouped in crowds among their friends. Endless amounts of chatter filled the stone walls and everyone seemed to be double checking that they had everything they needed. Graces seemed to understand his hesitancy though and moved slowly around the crowd to her brother.

"Blessed be," Draco greeted, kissing Graces on the cheek and moving to stand on the outer edge with her.

"Blessed be."

Neville moved aside as Draco stood behind Graces, brotherly wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head as though he were trying to emphasize his height compared to hers.

"Comfortable?" Graces asked, feining annoyance.

"I am, actually."

"You're such a prat," Graces scoffed, hanging her hands on Draco's arms that collared her.

"Excuse me, but aren't I the same brother that gave you dragon scales the other day?"

"That was yesterday," Graces shrugged, letting out a loud "eep" as Draco pinched her side. "I'm kidding, no need to get rude."

"Did you already place them?"

"I did," Graces grinned. "They look amazing."

Draco smiled fondly down at his sister's excitement and agreed that he couldn't wait to see them.

"I'm really happy you chose to go with this festival and not the other one," Graces whispered, closing her eyes and leaning more on her brother's chest as they waited. "Will Nott be—"

"He's attending the other one," Draco cut in. "It was what swayed my decision in attending this one."

"And Aunt Bella is attending the other one as well, correct?"

"Yes."

Graces gave a relieved sigh and Neville raised an eyebrow at her. He hadn't even thought about her aunt being at this festival and was exceptionally relieved to hear that she wouldn't be there. Apparently Graces had thought of it all though, and he made a mental note to thank her for ensuring he would not have any kind of painful discomfort.

"Are you nervous?"

"Me?" Draco asked surprised. "No."

"It's your first time doing this as our patriarch. You're not the least bit nervous?" Graces asked skeptically.

"It's just you, mother and close relatives nothing to really be nervous about." Graces hummed a reply, but didn't seem altogether convinced. "Graces, call Thomas over. I'm sick of seeing him with that twat."

"Aww, you don't think they're—"

"Graces," Draco growled.

"Thomas, darling, come here."

Thomas looked over at Graces' call and immediately excused himself to stand beside her, his red and white silk robe clashing with Graces' and Draco's matching blue and white ones.

"M-m-merry m-m-meet-tings," Thomas smiled, giving a little yelp as Graces pulled him over to join her and Draco's train.

"Blessed be," she said gently, resting her chin on the young boy's shoulder when she couldn't rest it on the top of his head.

"I swear, Graces, you try to antagonize that girl," Draco whispered, as Graces smugly smiled at Wendelin from her manmade fort. Graces didn't answer. Instead she shifted her arms around Thomas possessively.

Neville heard the Slytherin doors open and turned to see Professor Snape walking in. Unlike the rest of his house he didn't wear anything different than his regular flowing black robes. His hair was still greasy and unkempt and he looked more irritated than usual as he took his place at the top of the stairs. Neville wondered for a brief moment if seeing all the happy faces in his house was the reason for his irritation, but when he looked around the happy faces had disappeared and so had the excited noises. The room was now silent and, if he was not mistaken, some of the looks that were being given to the head of house were ones of contempt.

"Merry meetings," the professor deadpanned, his back beady eyes looking around the room. "I am aware that you will all be away for the night and in the care of your families; however, I would like to remind you of the rules associated with this privilege."

"As tempting as it may be for some of you to go home for the night, I am going to have to insist that you return to the castle. Your parental release to leave does not extend past the festival. Another reminder that once the festival is over you are all expected to arrived here in the common room clothed. I see all of you are wearing robes now and I expect you all to be wearing robes when you return."

The whole Slytherin house seemed to feel that this talk was a waste of time. Eyerolls and whispers of halfblood ignorance was going through the crowd like gentle waves on a seashore. It was the first time that Neville realized that Snape's blood status may have been an issue he had to deal with on a daily basis. And for the first time in his life he felt bad for the greasy git.

"Also, I expect all of you to return back to your dorms after the festival. _Your own dorms,_ " he emphasized. "If I should hear that—"

"None of us would be in another's room after tonight," Montague interrupted cooly. "And the fact that you are suggesting such a thing on one of our holy nights is degrading."

Snape didn't even glance at the interruption, instead he just raised his voice slightly over his student's declaration to say that if he did find out that any of the boys and girls were in each other's room at the end of the night he not only would be giving them detention for the rest of the school year, but would also be owling parents. None of the Slytherins were listening though, they all seemed to be bristling at Snape's assumption.

"That is all," Snape dismissed, a very small tinge of red to his cheeks. "I will be waiting for your return at the end of the night."

"I'll meet you there," Graces whispered, moving away from the two boys and walking towards the entrance to catch up with the potions master. Neville followed and inwardly cursed the blonde for chasing after the man. "Are you really not going to come?" Graces shouted outside the common room and down the lonely hall.

Snape stilled and turned around, sneering at Graces as she continued to stomp up.

"Why would I?"

Graces glared at the man before her. "Because Draco is performing his first ceremony as patriarch of this family, because you are his godfather, because you are my godfather, because we are alone without our father and you should be the one stepping up to guide us, because it's tradition," Graces spat savagely, her nose almost coming into contact with Snape's hooked one. "We would respect you more if you at least tried to be apart of our culture," Graces added slowly, her eyes unwavering from his.

"None of that," the greasy haired man said quietly, "is of any real concern to me."

Neville could tell that Graces was near tears at the declaration and he felt something inside him harden as Graces' chin trembled slightly. Still, the blonde did not waver, she kept her place and glared the professor down, practically demanding to hear more.

"I refuse to foolishly dance around naked celebrating old, useless pagan rituals," Snape continued icily. "You seem to think that your traditions are so different from the muggle ones of bowing down before a cross and asking for forgiveness. Do you have any idea of the world that is out there?" Snape asked with new venom. "There is no god or gods protecting anyone out there. There is just people. Go ahead and bow down to your silly pagan deities. Waste your time, effort, blood and faith in whatever allows you to sleep at night, but do not expect me to join you in that farce."

The tall man moved to leave, but Graces grabbed his arm before he could and moved in front of him again.

"You may be right," she rasped, staring up at Snape's sullen face as her arms held his shoulders. "There may be no gods or goddesses. We could all be very much alone in this world, but the thing is Draco and I are real. You said there is just people, well we're people, we could be your people, but you choose to not be there. You choose a miserable life for yourself day in and day out. It's like you want your misery. You could make an effort. You could be our godfather, hell or even just be our head of house. Do you know why you are only respected as a professor? It's not because your father was a miserable muggle; I think it's fair to say you have earned your place among us. You're not respected because you don't put any effort into your relations with us. You don't show us respect. We don't expect you to be friendly. Many of us come from families that are far from it, but you could be there. And you're not. You're always absent. So we're not. I know what the world is like out there," Graces continued, a small tear coming from the corner of her eye, "and I can sleep at night knowing that I have someone in this world. My question is how do you sleep at night, Severus?"

"Dreamlessly."

Graces didn't even look back as Snape strode away from her. She stood in the hall breathing angrily over the interaction, and Neville wondered if he was meant to see this. Not knowing if he should even be there, he pulled Graces close to him and held her as she shook with fury.

"I can't stand him," she croaked. "I really can't. He doesn't even try. He—"

"Come on," Neville whispered. "Did you really want him to come that much? Do you honestly think you could get the image of Severus Snape naked out of your head? I would call his lack of interest a blessing." Graces stifled something between a sob and a laugh against Neville's chest, and the sandy haired boy just held her closer. "I'm trying," he offered, kissing the top of her head before murmuring that he was trying again.

"I know you are," Graces smiled, leaning up and trying to find Neville's lips to kiss but succeeding in only finding his chin. "Let's go. I don't want you to miss a thing."

Neville agreed and moved his hand to hold the dragon portkey that Graces had been sent. It was as the portkey activated that he suddenly remembered why he hated them. He felt like a leaf being tossed around by an angry wind. The world he knew was blurring around him and all he could do was count the seconds until it was over. Finally he was able to release his hold on the object and he immediately was flung across an open field. Graces, however, landed gracefully on her feet and, before Neville even had a chance to make the world stop spinning, she was running forward to her mother.

"Blessed be," Narcissa choked, kissing her daughter on the temple and engulfing her in her small frame.

"Blessed be."

Neville had seen Narcissa Malfoy only a handful of times in person. He had seen her in Diagon Alley shopping, at the train station waiting for her children, standing beside her husband during a political fundraiser and on the Quidditch pitch after a game. She had always been this prominent figure in purebood society, standing proudly beside her husband and coldly snubbing anyone whom she deemed inferior. Multiple times his gran had been disrespected by Narcissa Malfoy, and multiple times his gran had disrespected her right back, but now it was hard to believe he was looking at the same woman.

"Okay, let me see them," Narcissa ordered taking a step back. Graces sent Draco a hesitant look, but discreetly shifted her robes so her mother could see the patch of skin now adorned with opalescent scales. "Your father is going to kill you," Narcissa noted, shaking her head and holding a perfectly manicured finger under her lips. "You're patriarch for less than a year and you gave in to her."

"I never thought it was a bad idea for her to have them," Draco shrugged, examining the scales.

"You know how your father feels about them though."

"It's done," Draco gestured. "Besides, he's not here," Draco murmured, bitterness and sadness mixing simultaneously into his words.

"Well, he will be soon," Narcissa clipped surely, sending a glare to her son for bringing up such a painful subject. "And when he is here he will not be thrilled that you allowed his daughter to do such a thing."

"You don't like it?"

Narcissa's face warmed at her daughter's question. "Of course I like it, my darling. They're beautiful and beautifully placed, I just don't know how your brother is going to survive it."

"I think he'll pull through," Graces smiled, letting go of her robes so they closed back around her body.

The older Malfoy smiled ruefully at her children's logic before placing her hands on their shoulders and leading them away from the field and to the soft glows in the distant rolling hills. Neville walked off to the side with them careful to keep his steps as quiet as possible as they approached the festival.

It was nothing like Neville had thought it would be. Pureblood family flags stood up around the edges of the festival creating a circle enclosing all the people within. Outside of this circle of flags stood altars with immense amounts of food laid down. There were children running around on the grass, their family colors billowing around them as their robes wafted about. Heavenly scents were engulfing him as he neared the men and women setting dishes of food down on altars and tables while other family members sang old poems, like the one Graces had recited, for the little ones to listen to. Endless chatter could be heard from all and anyone able-bodied seemed to be doing something for the festivity.

"Look who's finally arrived!"

Terrence Higgs placed the last remnants of food down on a marble altar that held the Higgs family crest and bowed humbly to it before stepping back to greet the Malfoys.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Terrence greeted, taking the older woman's hand and bowing his head down. "Merry meetings."

"Merry meetings," Narcissa repeated, dipping her head kindly in respect.

"I don't know if your son has made you aware, but our family has adopted your children within our own."

"I was not aware," Narcissa admitted, angling her chin over to her son at this announcement and waiting for an explanation.

"We figured that since your daughter and son have done so much to care for one of our own, it would be only right for us to care for them in the same manner."

"That's very kind," Narcissa thanked, placing a tender arm on her children's shoulders. "It's always a comfort to hear that others are guarding your children."

"I agree," Terrance nodded. "Graces and Draco has given so much comfort to us. We never worry about Thomas anymore." Graces blushed bashfully, clearly at a loss for what to say. "I hope you don't mind, but we set up beside you for this reason. We thought that since we feel so close to you, we should be close to you for such a holiday."

Narcissa gazed over at the Higgs clan setting up beside her and Neville wondered if she was as taken aback at the sheer size of the Higgs family as he was. Red was definitely the predominant color in this festival. You could not look anywhere without seeing a man, woman or child in a red robe. Though they only had one flag standing tall with the rest, they certainly dominated the other pureblood houses in numbers. It was one thing to know the Higgs clan was big, you see some of them at certain events and you come to think you have an idea of their size, but seeing it was a whole different story.

"I realize that this is Draco's first festival as the patriarch," Terrence continued brightly, politely ignoring the way Narcissa tensed up and clutched her hand around her son protectively. "I thought that maybe he would enjoy being beside me for the event. I'm sure his father taught him everything he needed to know, but I know I was nervous for my first festival."

Narcissa didn't answer, instead she looked to her son and waited for his decision on the matter. Draco seemed torn. Neville imagined that it was hard for him to admit to being nervous when it seemed all eyes were now on him. Neville himself had just taken on the role of patriarch and he knew the pressure that came along with it. The wizarding world all seemed to keep an eye on you after you take on such a role. The way you act, what you believe, the decisions you make all seem to be under scrutiny.

"We're all going to be standing together for the beginning anyways," Terrence reminded kindly. Draco glanced up for a moment at the older man, before looking over to his mother and nodding.

"Graces, will you set up the altar for our family?" Narcissa asked, her eyes still trailing her son as he walked off to the center of the circle. Graces nodded and Neville followed her to a large stone well.

"It's spelled," Graces whispered. "We reach in and are able to get the food we prepared at home for the festival." As she was speaking Graces took out a large plate of Pumpkin pasties. "Then we take the food to either our alter outside of the circle for our ancestors or to the table for us to eat during the festival."

"Why are the altars set up outside of the circle?" Neville asked, making sure to keep his voice down.

"Inside the circle is for the living," Graces explained, walking past her flag into the dark field where her family's marble altar stood. "Outside the circle is for the dead. The veil between our worlds is thinned, but that doesn't mean we want it breached. Some spirits don't always mean well when they come in contact with the living. We want to invite our family, but we have to be mindful that others could come as well. We place food on the altars for our ancestors. It is hoped that since the veil is thin on nights like this they can enjoy the food we leave, but even if they can't the food shows them that the family is well and they are remembered. You'll notice a lot of pineapple," Graces giggled. "Pineapple used to be a sign of wealth to muggles. If your family could afford such an exotic fruit it was thought you were very wealthy. Wizards and witches were able to get them no problem just by apparating them in, and then they could walk around in muggle society and be seen as exceptionally wealthy. It helped to manipulate and charm them. Some families would rent the fruit to muggle families for extra money or give it to a squib family member to do so with. So we put it on these altars as sort of a joke. I expect many of the renaissance era spirits enjoy it."

"Wait here," Graces ordered, stopping Neville from walking any further to her families alter. Neville watched as Graces approached the stone with a bowed head. He couldn't tell from the back, but it looked as though she were praying. She stood there for a long time murmuring words too soft for him to overhear to the stone before setting the silver dish down and placing a gentle kiss onto the alter with it.

"Those are for my grandmother. Those were her favorite. She would make them all the time. I remember her chateau always smelled like pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes. When we make certain dishes for certain members we say a few words of remembrance."

"Like a prayer?"

"I suppose that's a way to explain it."

"Do you think they hear you?" Neville asked as they approached the light.

"I believe they do."

"What would you want on your altar?" Neville asked curiously as Graces pulled a large roasted goose out of the stones.

"That's a morbid question," Graces muttered, her eyebrows lifting. Neville blushed and began muttering how sorry he was, but Graces just laughed. "It's fine, Longbottom. I was just a bit surprised. I don't particularly think of my death, but since you brought it up I can answer."

"I think I would just want a whole separate feast from the rest. Just bits of everything," Graces laughed. "A whole altar devoted to just me and my food. Like the Great Hall feasts."

"No way, Malfoy," Neville teased playfully. "One thing and that's it."

"Two things," Graces stipulated.

"Fine, two."

"Chocolate and firewhiskey. There, it's done. Now if I leave this world you know what to tell Draco to leave at my altar."

"I could leave it at your altar."

"You won't be allowed near my altar," Graces smiled, continuing on to her families altar while Neville waited for her return.

As they returned more Malfoys were walking out to the altar. Neville didn't know who these family members were, but from the looks of it they were all distant relatives, cousins mostly with a few great aunt and uncles thrown in. They all spoke excitedly in French as they greeted Graces, her mother, and Draco. It was then that Neville realized Draco and Graces' robes were different from the rest: more elaborate and with extra symbols embroidered in.

_Draco's the patriarch so that makes sense,_ Neville thought as Graces whispered something in her cousin's ear. _But why is Graces' different?_

As fires around the family tables and tents dimmed and Draco turned Graces away from her cousins to join him and the other heads of house in the center of the circle it hit him. _She's his heir._

It did make sense. Draco had no children so it only seemed right that Graces would be the one to inherit his title and wealth. He imagined that Draco would rather give it to her than a distant cousin, though it was probably frowned upon in some circles. If Draco cared about other people's feelings about his female heir he didn't show it. He stood up there with his sister unapologetically placing her right beside him as he stood with the other heads of house and their male heirs. All the family members were now gathered around. There was ample space for all of them and they sat around two large stacks of wood, their robes creating a color wheel of ancestry.

"Merry meetings," a tall dark skinned woman began as the crowd fell silent.

"Blessed be."

"And happy Samhain," Terrence ended, smiling at all the faces around him.

"I can't begin to explain the merriment that my heart is filled with to see so many at this year's Sanhain festival," the darker woman continued, gesturing to the array of people seated around. Neville realized that the young man standing beside her adorned in a gray and black robe was Blaise Zabini.

"It truly is a blessing to see so many of our own gathering to celebrate together," a gray-haired man enjoined, his son, Graham, standing at his side proudly.

"And we are sure there are more that we are just unable to see," Terrence laughed, gesturing out to the dark fields beyond them where the altars stood.

"Yes," Ms. Zabini smiled. "Samhain is a joyous time for many reasons. It is the time when we can remember and feel close to those who have passed beyond our realm."

"A time when we are able to join together as a family and practice traditions we hope to be passed on through generations to come," Montague added.

"And a time to honor our Gods," Draco finished.

"While these traditions have been lost to many," Neville was now looking at a purple robbed man who, judging by the colors, must have been Pansy's relative. "They have not been lost to all of us. Some may say we are backwards, but I don't understand how one can believe religion progresses forwards."

"The Gods are the same now as they were hundreds of years ago, and they expect the same things from us now as they did then."

Neville no longer was paying attention to who was speaking and instead was only listening to the words.

"We are not the ones that should be modifying our rituals and beliefs. We are the ones that should be looked at to show the way. Centuries ago we were told to lay down our wands and give ourselves to a single God or be burned alive. Many of us, those that were weaker and too scared to stand besides their conviction, stopped their traditions and hid their magic, letting the majority of the muggleborn population engulf them in their beastly culture. "

"The government designed to protect us and our ways of life bent to the will of those entering it from the outside, but we, the ones that hold pride in where we come from, the ones who refuse to tremble before anyone—man or singular God—have held true."

"Let tonight be a reminder of who we are and where we have come from," Draco roared proudly. "Let us practice our traditions of protection, honor and remembrance in a way that would make our ancestors proud."

"Let us join together and honor _our_ Gods who _celebrate_ _our_ magic! And _our_ traditions!" Terrence bellowed into the night air as his small son moved closer to his robes.

"Let us all come together bringing fire from each of our homes, fire that we have kept alive from the bonfires of the last Samhain, fire that will burn away all the bad influences of the year and warm our homes in the year to come."

"Let us rejoice in the ashes that will purify and protect us."

"And let us give sacrifice to the Gods above for all the things they have blessed us with," Zabini sang, taking out a long dagger from her robes and cutting her arm open to pour blood onto the wood. Neville cringed as each head of house repeated the action, before healing themselves and waiting for their heir to come forward.

Graces bowed down to her knees and lifted her arm to her brother, not even flinching as he sliced her skin apart and let her blood trickle to the wood. She just kept her eyes closed and her lips moving in silent prayer.

Terrence's son did not seem to have the same courage as the older men and women surrounding him, and when his father turned to him he shook out of fear.

"It's okay, son," Terrence comforted, calling up his wife. "It has to be willing. If you don't want to, that's fine. The Gods will understand. They favor strapping, young boys," he added with a wink.

The young tike nodded, though his skin was blotched red and tears streamed down his face. Terrence's wife pulled her child close to her as her other arm bled onto the wood and murmured quietly that it was okay, that he was still such a good little wizard.

Other children had no problem with the ritual. They seemed excited and proud, but unlike the adults their arms were not being sliced open and only a prick of the finger was taken from anyone younger than thirteen. There were a few here and there that became frightened and at the last minute pulled away, but none of the adults seemed to mind. Most just smiled amused at the scene before picking them up and kissing their cheeks.

Each patriarch stayed beside the bonfire: cutting and healing any family member that came up to give sacrifice. Before long it was just the Higgs clan remaining. Graces had come back to sit among her family as Draco continued to stand beside the fire, but she didn't talk or tell Neville anything about what was going on. She just sat on her knees, hands clapped together, eyes closed, praying.

When the last of the Higgs family members had finished coming up, all the families were directed to bring the fire from their homes up to the bonfires. All around wives stood and went back to their families' areas, taking down the torches that were illuminating the circle before standing at one of the bonfires. Darkness closed in on them as the torches were taken to the center. Neville waited for the torches to be cast onto the wood, but the women surrounding the massive pile of logs just stood motionless. Neville wondered if they were praying and then after a few moment realized they were waiting.

Softly Graces began to sing beside him. At first he wondered if she knew she was singing, it seemed that everyone else around her was silent in prayer, but as she rose from the ground, her swelling voice rising through the night in a tormented plea to the heavens. He realized it was part of the ceremony. It was intriguing, heartbreaking and beautifully evocative to listen to. All around there was silence as Graces lifted her hands to the heavens and sang out into the stars. Her voice and movements grew angry and desperate. She lifted her hands and gestured in a way that lead you to believe she was making demands to the heavens, sang in a way that spoke of heartbreak, betrayal, and need like a lost soul abandoned in the world, beseeching the gods to deliver them.

As Graces' voice keened ever louder to the heavens—each note more overpowering than the last and tears streaming down her face—Blaise began a low, solemn song. He stared forward into nothingness as his low voice carried a hopeful, unsure melody that slowly built into a buoyant, aspirational and proud tone.

Blaise was now lifting his chin up proudly as his voice began to drown out Graces. His notes cut through crisp and clean, evoking a hopeful feeling from all around as he gestured passionately and moved through the audience to Graces where they combined their songs in an impressive duet.

If Graces song was about deliverance, Blaise's was about clinging to hope. It was haunting and raw. Both students sang into the other's voice, clinging to their hands as though they were each other's strength to continue.

As the duet continued a few teenagers stood from their seats and moved over to some drums where they began to softly bang out a beat while a dark, rhythmic whispering began in the crowd, building until it was harsh chanting. A swelling chorus of sharp, spiteful staccato that reminded one of demons coming up from the ground was now unfolding. Graces' melody wavered from the new hopeful one it was taking and she took a step back from Blaise who continued to sing a song pleading with her for faith. Graces' song and voice continued to falter, though, and the crowd that had been sitting was now on their feet continuing their frightening, amplified chants of scourge and drowning her voice out. Blaise's voice carried through though. It fought the new demonic tune and soared through the air over it.

Then, like birds in the morning light, a new song began brewing within the chaos. But it wasn't from Graces, Blaise, or any of the other adults, it was from the young Higgs heir. The harsh chanting yielded to the childish song that spoke of miracles and doubtless faith. Hardened hearts melted from the sound of the children's song. The majestic melody soon was catching an ensemble of voices as all the other children joined in, slowly being accompanied by their parents in their inspirational lyrics. The children lead the song now even as Graces and Blaise intertwined, harmonizing with the children's choir. The little ones continued to conduct the theme, leading the rich variety of melodies into a powerful tune of triumph.

Neville had never understood the word spiritual until this moment, but he now wondered how he had ever doubted it's tangibility. He was moved, spiritually moved. He had a feeling that it was the music that was doing it. It was pulling on his emotions to the point where he had transcended the usual feelings he held. He was high off the euphoria the performance was bringing, and, as the patriarchs approached the bonfires and toasted their torches in the air together before throwing them into the wood, he was surprised to realize that he was clapping his hands along with the rest of them. The song was now once again changing and the triumphant finale was now merging into a celebratory dance.

The new song swept through the celebrants as they clapped and danced around the bonfires. Robes were now being flung to the ground as they twirled and trotted between the alley of the flames, re-emerging splotched with ash. Neville still didn't know the tongue they were speaking in, but whatever song they were singing caused all of them to laugh through the verses. Instruments could now be heard from all around as people began playing to the songs that were being sung. The young boys and girls that had been playing the drums were soon relieved of their task as others came covered in ash to play for them so they too could dance around the flames.

Graces and her friends seemed to be playing a game of chicken with wild fire that was roaring high into the sky. They would run up as close as they could and then run back, spinning in circles with the new ash they had accumulated on their skin. As the last song neared its end Draco grabbed Graces and both twins made a run for the piano where they began playing a faster-paced song that made the other purebloods dance faster and spin one another about more.

"You're playing too fast!" Draco laughed, banging his fingers along the keys and sending a puff of ash up with each movement.

"Oh?" Graces challenged. "I believe this song calls for Allegro."

"Allegro does not mean as fast as possible," Draco pointed out, still trying to keep up with his sister. "Prestissimo means as fast as possible."

"You're just jealous you can't keep up," Graces scoffed, sending him a wicked grin.

"Was that a flat instead of a sharp?"

"Shut up," Graces snapped, pounding harder on the keys, her fingers racing to the next note and grinning from ear to ear as Draco faltered.

"M-m-may I j-j-join?" Thomas broke in, every inch of him, which Neville could see, covered in soot.

"Can you handle it?" Graces shouted over the keys cockily raising her chin.

Thomas raised an eyebrow and took Draco's place at the piano.

"Oh, bloody hell," Graces whispered as Thomas not only played the piece faster than her, but without any errors. "It's moments like these where I really hate you, Higgs."

"Y-you l-love m-me," Thomas quipped, finishing the song and moving away as Blaise started another. "W-want t-to h-help t-t-take th-the b-b-babes th-through?"

"Yes!" Graces exclaimed excitedly, running behind Thomas to the Higgs tent.

Almost everyone was now covered head to toe with ash. The majority of the people still continued to dance beside the flames in the middle of the ceremony, but older relatives and toddler aged children were over by their houses' areas, eating and drinking. Graces and Thomas had finally made it over to the Higgs tent and it was clear that most of the very young children still had not been taken through the bonfire. Neville watched as older cousins, parents, sisters and brothers picked up the tiny tykes on their hips and dashed back to the center with them.

Graces, Thomas and eventually Draco all ran back and forth taking sometimes two children at a time to dance a song or two with them ensuring that the young ones would be covered with the ash thought to purify and protect them through the new year.

Graces was captivating. Neville for the life of him could not remember a time where she was more beautiful than she was now. Her hair was a tangle of wind, sweat and dirt, her skin was caked gray, and she had an assortment of food sticking to her here and there from sticky fingers of the children she was twirling about. But she was in these moments the epitome of beauty. It took all of his will not to go up to her, interrupt her laughter with the child she was holding as she whirled her around on her hip and kiss her lips into silence.

After a full hour of dancing and running around non-stop with the children it finally seemed to catch up with her, and she carried the little one in her arms back to tent, looking as though she herself was going to collapse.

"Again, again!"

"Oh, darling, I can't," Graces panted, sitting at one of the long feasting tables and gulping down a glass of wine. "Let us do something else, huh?"

"Let Graces have some rest," Terrence chuckled, coming forward with his new born child asleep in his arms. "Have you even got a chance to sit and eat?"

"I was in high demand," Graces laughed, leaning her elbow on the table. "Higgs children love me."

"Higgs in general love you," Terrence corrected. "Help yourself and eat."

Graces smiled in thanks and grabbed a piece of chicken from tray.

"That's a girl," Terrence winked, turning to walk away.

"Oh! Can I hold the baby?" Graces asked, placing her food down and holding out her arms.

"Haven't you gotten enough children for one day?" the older man laughed.

"Those are toddlers, I haven't held the baby," Graces smiled, gesturing for Terrence to hand over the child. "Come on, if anything it will allow me to eat and rest. No one is going to go dragging me to dance with a sleeping babe in my arms."

Terrence seemed torn, but relented. Instructing Graces to give the child over to someone when she no longer wanted to hold him. Graces rolled her eyes and tutted for Terrence to leave her be and go back to doing patriarchal things.

It was the first time she had been alone in hours and Neville wondered if she remembered he was even there. Graces' eyes were transfixed on the tiny infant in her arms. Every once in a while she would reach out to the table to grab a pastry to nibble on, but other than that she just stared at the child placing her finger in its tiny hand as it slept.

"That's called palmar grasp," Graces murmured quietly. "It's a reflex that babies have. If you touch a newborn's palm, their fingers will close around yours or any other object you place there. It's a reflex, they don't know they are doing it. They just do."

"And here I was thinking you must have forgotten about me."

"I didn't," Graces smiled quietly, brushing the baby's cheeks with the tip of her fingers.

"You really like children, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I do," Graces hummed, leaning her head to rest on Neville's shoulder as he took a seat next to her. "I wish he wasn't covered in ash; I love how babies smell. Don't you?"

"This is the closest I have ever been to a baby," Neville admitted, looking down into her arms.

"Really?"

"Who in my family is able to bear children?" Neville chuckled.

"Would you like to hold him?" Graces asked, already shifting her arms.

"What?" Neville squeaked.

"Here, it's really easy just—"

"No. I-uh don't think that's a good idea. I can barely hold myself up let alone—"

"Shh," Graces hushed. "You'll wake him. Here, just support his head. Right, just like that."

"Graces, I'm going to drop it or—"

"He's not an it," Graces laughed. "You're doing fine, just relax. I'm right here, I won't let you harm him."

Neville was glad Graces couldn't see him, because he was at that moment terrified beyond wit. He could not believe he was holding such a little person. He was so tiny, Neville couldn't stop marveling over its teeny tiny fingers and toes. He wanted to reach out and touch them, but he also was too scared to not hold him with both arms.

"I wish I could see your face," Graces sighed.

"I'm very glad at the moment you can't," Neville replied, his voice giving Graces the explanation as to why.

"You're doing fine," Graces repeated. "Enjoy him."

"He's so small."

"He is." Neville knew Graces couldn't see him, but he had this odd feeling she was trying to look at him which really didn't make sense.

"Here, you should take him back before anyone sees," Neville said, placing the child back in Graces arms.

"No one is around and there is that huge center piece blocking anyone's view."

"Still, we should be cautious," Neville reminded, reaching out and brushing Graces cheek lingering near the warmth of her skin. "You look so beautiful, Graces," he whispered, leaning down and kissing her softly. "All night I've been in awe of how beautiful you are."

"Longbottom, this isn't the time or the place," she whispered, though it appeared she didn't seem to mind as much as she thought she should.

"I know," Neville murmured, kissing her cheek. "I just had to say it."

Graces blushed and looked down. "Are you enjoying the festival?" she asked, clearly trying to get off the subject.

"I am," Neville admitted surprised. "That opening song was amazing. I had no idea you could sing so well."

"Voice lessons," Graces shrugged. "Father insisted that I be as well rounded as possible."

Neville wanted to ask what other things he didn't know about her, but before he got the opportunity Graham Montague and a woman he assumed to be his mother came walking up.

"Merry meetings," Graces greeted quietly, moving her head lower in respect.

"Merry meetings," the older woman greeted, her hair gray like her husband's. "You sang beautifully earlier."

"That's very kind of you to say," Graces smiled.

"Graham, darling, don't you think Graces sang well?" Graham raised an eyebrow at his mother's question, but nodded in agreement. "He's not much of a talker," the plump woman bristled, clearly unhappy with her son's lack of charm.

Neville all of the sudden greatly disliked the woman in front of him. He had seen his gran do this song and dance multiple times when she felt two people would be good together, and he had a feeling that Mrs. Montague wanted her son to be with Graces.

"He's not," Graces agreed, sending Graham a sly smile. "He's more of a yeller."

"I'm just kidding," Graces giggled, as the older woman looked to her son with fury. "Graham is very kind, just not so much on the pitch."

"I would be kinder on the pitch if you and your brother weren't always dawdling."

"We're just making sure you keep on your toes, captain," Graces winked, adjusting her hold on the infant when he began to stir.

"Your daughter makes beautiful sons," Graces complimented, nodding to the little one in her arms. "If I could I would take this little one with me back to the dorms."

"She does," the older woman smiled, gently touching her sleeping grandchild's cheek. "You are good with him. You're good with all the children it seems. Your arm doesn't hurt from carrying them around as you danced?"

"It only hurts when I raise it. It healed fine, though. It should be better completely by summer."

"You should come to our manor then. Graham here I'm sure would love to see you, especially since he will be graduating and won't be in school with you after this year. He's already secured a job in the ministry," Mrs. Montague whispered proudly.

"That would be lovely."

_No. No, it wouldn't be._

"Perhaps you two could even see each other more formally," she suggested, looking from her son to Graces. "I'm sure my son could make just as cute little ones."

Graham looked up to the sky for a moment, clearly trying to hide his embarrassment, before regaining himself and looking down to meet Graces' eyes.

"I have already asked Miss Malfoy if I could formally court her, mother," Graham informed quietly. "And, unfortunately for me, she declined."

"Oh." Graham's mother seemed at a loss for words at this new information. Neville could not imagine a more awkward situation. "Wh—"

"Graces! Graces! Graces!"

"Tabatha! Tabatha! Tabatha!" Graces whispered smiling as a dark-skinned little girl came squealing up to her. "Come make fay necklaces with us," the child whispered, noting the baby in her arms.

"I'm taking to Mrs. Mon—"

"No, go ahead," Graham interjected, holding his arms out. "Let me hold my nephew. You go make fay necklaces."

Graces obliged and stood up from her seat, silently mouthing a thank you to Graham as he took his nephew.

"Oh, and Malfoy..."

"Yes?"

"Nice scales," Graham observed lowly, allowing his eyes to rake down Graces side for a moment, before looking back up at her eyes. "The placement is very flattering on you."

Graces looked at the broad boy standing in front of her for a moment, unflinching from the fact they were mere inches apart and naked.

"It's a sacred day," Graces reminded evenly, "and we are on sacred ground."

"And I have only sacred thoughts," Graham promised. "You can glance down and have reassurance of that."

"Happy Samhain, Graham," Graces murmured, a small smile on the corner of her lips, leaving without a glance and bidding Mrs. Montague good night.

"Sacred thoughts, my ass," Neville growled, walking backwards as Graces followed Tabatha.

"I peeked in his head," Graces grinned. "He wanted to look, but he didn't."

"I'm sure he's seen all he wanted."

"Quick passing glances, but nothing lingering."

"I don't like that he's had passing glances."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Longbottom. It makes you seem possessive, and let me remind you that I'm not yours to be possessive with."

"You get jealous all the time," Neville argued, lowering his voice as Graces hushed him.

"I'm possessive," Graces shrugged. "And a Slytherin. You're a Gryffindor, aren't you all supposed to strive to be morally better?"

"Graces! Hurry up!"

"Coming, darling," Graces called, beginning to run forward. "Don't get fussy, Longbottom," she panted, leaping through the taller grass. "I'll let you make me yours all you want for a few hours tonight."

It really wasn't much of a consolation. Neville knew Graces was not his, that despite how their relationship progressed he only had borrowed time with her. What killed him the most was being here today and seeing that this was the world she wanted and he wasn't in a position to be a part of it while guys like Montague were and had the full support of their family to try and make her a part of it. One of the guys here that he saw interacting with Graces and paying respect to her family was going to be her husband. She was going to belong with him and his family, and he would be just a distant memory.

These were the thoughts that haunted him as Graces laid on her stomach in the flowers, weaving tiny necklaces out of stems and petals while other little ones crowned her with the ones they had made earlier. He loved her and he would have liked to build a life with her, but it just wasn't even imaginable. He had a feeling that she wouldn't want it, not at the cost it would be to her. If they were discovered she would be disowned and after being disowned would never be welcomed by this society. She wouldn't be laying in this field explaining what plants to use as the base of the necklace to ward off evil spirits or relighting sage around the field the children were playing in. All the traditions and people he saw her enjoying would be lost to her. And as much as it hurt, Neville understood why being with him was not worth that cost. He didn't have anything like this.

"What are you guys making?" Draco asked softly, entering the clearing.

"Fay necklaces!"

"Fay necklaces?" Draco repeated with overly enthusiastic excitement.

"Yeah, we are makin em to pwotect our mummies and daddies."

"And apparently Graces too," Draco laughed, looking at the assortments of necklaces and bracelets Graces was displaying.

"I'm makin' one for my sister," a small boy said proudly, lifting up a necklace displaying a multitude of crunched up leaves.

"Maybe someone should make one for Draco," Graces suggested excitedly.

"I'll make it." Neville looked over and saw Terrence's older son stand up from a group of boys. "My daddy said the Malfoys are a part of our family now. So I'll make it."

Neville smiled at the young child's self-importance and moved closer to watch him make what was going to be too small to be a necklace for Draco.

"Thank you, Clarence," Draco smiled, ruffing the boy's hair affectionately.

Clarence smiled proudly and continued to twirl the roots of some kind of plant together.

"Graces said roots are for strength and since you're a patwearch I think you needs lots of strength. My daddy told my mummy he worries you can't carry all the bordens. I don't know what bordens are, but he said it's too heaby for you so I'll make your fay necklace with only roots. That way you'll be stwonger."

Draco's smile quickly melted off his face. It was more obvious in times like this how lost Draco truly was. Neville looked away as Draco moved his right hand over his mark, a mixture of shame and fear washing over his face.

"Don't be sad," Clarence comforted, placing the necklace around Draco's wrist when he realized it was too small for his neck. "My daddy says he wants to help you, but he just doesn't know how yet. He'll figure it out though. He's smart. My daddy is bery strong too, he can carry pwobly a thousand bordens."

"A man can't carry another man's burdens," Draco lectured wistfully. "But your father is a fine man for wanting to."

"Graces, we should go join our friends," Draco suggested, standing up from the grass.

"Okay," Graces yawned, stretching slowly before standing up.

"Do you like my new jewelry?" Graces giggled as they headed towards a grouping of younger witches and wizards.

"It's very fine. I suppose you don't need all of the jewelry in your vault now," Draco smirked.

"I wouldn't go that far," Graces laughed. "Oh dear, the apples are out. I bet Pansy has been itching for this all night."

"Ugh, it's so stupid," Draco groaned.

"Graces! Draco!"

"Oh, gods, here we go."

Graces just laughed at her brother's trepidation and gleefully joined Pansy and the rest of her friends. Pansy was going around to everyone excitingly passing out big green apples. Draco accepted one and Neville bit his knuckles to keep from laughing as he noticed how rigid and taut the blonde boy's stance became as Pansy batted her eyelashes at him.

"What are the apples for?" Neville asked, as Graces went over to a table to grab a knife for her and her brother.

"It's so silly," Graces whispered, looking around. "We all sit around one another and peel the skin from the apple throwing the peels behind us. Supposedly the letter the peel forms is the first letter in the name of our future spouse. It's just something silly and fun, like the fay necklaces the children make."

It truly was a silly practice. Neville watched as the younger generations that had yet to get married and have families all sat on stumps peeling apples. He heard a few of the adults pass by chuckling at the activity before continuing on to other parts of the festival. It was all just a joke, an old practice of folklore that was just done to be silly. But as everyone proceeded to peel it was obvious why it was still practiced.

There was this feeling of communion while they all sat around doing this tedious act. Pansy kept giggling. Millicent continued to roll her eyes and half heartedly toss the peels. Draco it appeared was just trying to peel the apple in one single spiral, as though it were a challenge. Blaise just laughed and every once in a while would purposely throw his peels in Pansy's pile, to get the girl upset. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be trying to mimic Draco's attempt at a single peel, and Graces was whispering excitedly to Higgs and every once in a while eating her peel instead of tossing it.

Neville listened as they all talked amongst themselves with a warm familiarity. Nothing of any true consequence was being said. Just regular chatter. Some of them were catching up with family members that were missed during the school year, and others were giggling about what letters they hoped would be behind them.

"Graces! You have two Zs!" Pansy squealed, looking behind her friend.

"Cara mia, it's a sign," Blaise exclaimed, jumping up from his stump and taking Graces hand on bended knee. "I told you you were meant to be mine."

"Oh Gods, not this," Graces cried, trying to take her hand away.

"My darling, what are you saying? Why are you not celebrating our sure betrothal?"

"It could be an N," Draco pointed out, cocking his head to the side. "You may be jumping the broom thinking it a Z."

"This is just silly," Graces scoffed, now eating her apple, clearly done with such nonsense.

"Oh, don't be sour," Pansy chided.

"I'm not sour. I just think it's silly," Graces clipped cooly.

"I always got an M," Narcissa Malfoy stated, walking up to where her children were seated.

"Did you?" both twins exclaimed.

"I did," Narcissa smiled. "Though I found out later your father had been spelling the peels that way," she added simply, laughing along with her children.

"Father's relentless," Graces commented, bending forward still laughing.

"I'm relentless," Blaise pointed out. "And you know what they say: girls marry men like their fathers."

"Her father is a much quieter man," Graham rebutted.

"Should we be planning to attend another Higgs wedding?" Millicent asked, nodding her chin to Thomas who blushed and looked away from Wendelin's glare.

"What you should be planning is to join your families at your tents now," Narcissa instructed, beckoning for the twins to follow her.

"The fog is coming in," Graces pointed out looking over at field beyond the circle of tents.

"It is," Narcissa observed. "Let's sit with the family and visit. I think it best no one tries to toe the veil tonight. Draco, I think you should announce to the family that you wish them to abstain from that practice."

"What's toeing the veil?" Neville whispered when Graces' mother sent her to fetch some wine.

"It's when you go out beyond the circle and cut your wrists and bleed out till you are close to death. The idea is that if you bring yourself near to death you will be able to glimpse beyond the veil and any ancestors or spirits that have a message will be able to communicate with you."

"That sounds really dangerous," Neville noted, watching as a very few people from the other houses left the circle.

"You just bring a blood replenishing potion," Graces shrugged, walking back to her family. "The frightening thing is when some people pass out from it before they take the potion or close their wounds."

"Do you think it works?" Neville asked.

"I don't know. Very few people do it and out of that few it is rare someone claims it worked. I think maybe once every few years someone gets a message, and I've always wondered if they just hallucinated it. People that toe the veil often fast before hand for three days."

"Have people died doing this?"

Graces shifted her eyes for a moment, and seemed to become uneasy at the question.

"I believe," she said slowly evaluating her words, "that those that do die wanted to... I think that they don't plan on killing themselves, but the disappointment of realizing that they will never speak to their beloved again is just too much for them to bare, so they decide to just join them."

"Have you ever considered toeing the veil?"

"No," Graces answered patiently. "I have no reason to. My loved ones are still here with me."

"If they weren't?" Neville asked, thinking of Draco and the dangers he was in.

"I would rather not think on such unpleasant scenarios," Graces answered warily.

"Right... sorry."

"It's fine," Graces smiled, moving her shoulders to bump Neville playfully. "The rest of the evening is just feasting with our families. We may play a few games together, even have some duels, but that's about it. Before we all leave we get some of the fire from the bonfires to use in our homes for the next year. We all like to grab some for our common rooms and dorm rooms as well."

"I thought it was the ash that protected you in the next year?"

"The ash does," Graces nodded. "But the fire banishes evil. It also represents how we have bonded together; that's why we throw a torch with the fire from our houses in the same bonfire. You'll notice not all pureblood families are here, that's part of the reason why. Not all of us want to be bonded together, and those we don't feel akin to celebrating with usually go to separate festivals."

"Some of the neutral families here may be willing to accept fire from your hearth, but others would not want it, you being a blood-traitor and all. So if you had come officially, they may have separated the bonfires more. For example: We toasted our fires together before throwing them in, had you been there we would have not done that. Instead those that did not wish to join fire with you would have waited to see which bonfire you chose and tossed theirs in the other."

"What if someone wanted to bond with both?"

"They would just toast their torches," Graces answered simply. "Honestly, we just try to keep the festivals with only those we want to bond with."

"I thought you said political feelings were put aside?"

"Enough to tolerate. No one here would have been rude to you and they would never discuss anything about you being here. This is a sacred place to us, and we would never disgrace it by behaving cruelly."

"But what—"

"Longbottom,"Graces smiled. "I have to get back to my family now."

"Oh, right. I'm sorry I keep taking your time and—"

"It's fine," Graces giggled. "I'm glad you're interested. We'll talk when we get back to the dorms."

"Wait." Graces stilled as Neville gently came behind her and softly placed his hands on her upper arms. "I-I wanted you to know that I really appreciate this," he whispered. "All of it. I-I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me that you shared this with me."

Graces tensed at the declaration and merely patted one of Neville's hands before hurrying off to join her family. Neville didn't really expect an answer from Graces after and spent the rest of the festival silently watching her with her family, enjoying the interactions despite not being able to understand a word they were saying.

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Neville quietly made his way up to Graces' room while the other Slytherins bid one another goodnight under Snape's hostile stare. It seemed the Professor did not trust his students to go into their own dorms at the end of the festival, and Neville had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing as he passed by him and Blaise pointed out that they could always join in each other's rooms other nights.

Neville immediately went to Graces' bed upon entering the room and made sure to close the curtains in case her charm wore off. It had certainly been an educational night. He still found the idea of running about naked odd, but it wasn't as distasteful as he had thought. He actually enjoyed being at the festival. It was truly interesting to see some of the old traditions still being practiced. He hadn't known about the half the things he saw there, most people discussed practicing Samhain as though it were men and women dancing around in a drunken stupor.

Samhain wasn't anything like that though. Yes there was dancing, and definitely an assortments of wine and spirits, but dancing naked around the bonfires wasn't as distasteful as other witches and wizards made it sound. It was all very tasteful, well, as tasteful as can be possible for dancing around naked. The point is that he enjoyed being there. Obviously, he didn't have any plans to become a part of these festivities. He would be out of place there and also would cause a lot of strife among his family, but he appreciated why others chose to celebrate it.

Neville heard the girls enter the room, a flutter of chatter as they disrobed and headed to the showers to wash off the ash from the festival. He listened as the water from the showers turned on and for a moment played with the memory of when he and Graces showered together. Laying in Graces' bed thinking of Graces and his endeavours was a much different experience than when he thought about it alone in his bed.

He could smell her all around him: lilies, white cotton and lavender assaulted his senses, making him feel drunk. He had always enjoyed the way Graces smelled. He loved how it lingered on his skin after a night with her and always wished he didn't have to shower her off in the morning. The faint smell of her was intoxicating, but the smell of her bed was mouthwatering. It was stronger, sweeter. He laid down on her pillow and could have sworn she was there with him now. It was an aroma that made him burn with need.

Graces didn't quite understand why she felt nervous, but as she left the showers she couldn't shake the butterflies that were now fluttering in her stomach. She knew Neville was waiting for her in her bed, probably in her sheets, and while a part of her couldn't wait to join him another part was terrified.

"Goodnight," Graces called, moving to her bed to open the curtains.

"Night," Millicent yawned. "Oh, and Graces don't forget the silencing spells."

"Yeah, Gray, I love you, but I can't stand to hear you screaming Draco's name like that. I wish you would take the potions."

"Yeah, you breaking my nose is not a good way to start the morning."

"Right, sorry," Graces blushed. "I'll be sure to set the charms. Good night."

Graces stealthily moved into the curtains of her bed, making sure to set the silencing charms and locking charms immediately before anything else. She could feel Neville next to her and after she was sure they wouldn't be heard or disturbed, made him visible.

"Hi," she greeted awkwardly.

Neville didn't look as she expected him to when she greeted him in nothing but a silk, baby-blue nightgown. She had imagined a much more passionate encounter, but instead Neville just peered up at her not making any move to even touch her.

"You're still having night terrors?" he asked, concern and shock evident in each syllable.

"No, not really." Graces tried to ignore how Neville's look was tying her into knots, like she should feel bad for not telling him such private things.

"Graces."

"I'm fine," Graces reassured as Neville took her arms.

"No, you're not, not if you are having nightmares like that. Graces, you can't do this. You just can't. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is?"

"I-I'm not having those terrors anymore."

"Your friends just said—"

"That was the other week, and it was a fluke."

"A fluke?"

"Yes, a fluke."

"I want you to speak to Pomfrey."

"I don't need to."

"Graces, I am not going to allow you to argue with me on this. Not when it comes to your health. You—"

"I'm fine, really I am. I swear."

Graces knew that Neville didn't believe her. He just knelt there, holding her arms and looking down morosely.

"I just want you to be well," Neville murmured. "I can't stand the thought of you screaming like you did in the hospital wing. I-I wish you would let me help you."

"You do," Graces blushed, looking up. "I—uh—don't have those terrors when we are—uh—on _good terms_..."

"What?"

"You know..." Graces mumbled, color flushing her cheeks.

Neville frowned before raising his brows.

"Oh gods, this is embarrassing," Graces moaned.

"No. No, it's fine," Neville reassured. "Really, it's fine. I just didn't know that was so essential to you being able to..." Neville let his words trail off, a bit too embarrassed himself to continue. "You know I—uh—sleep better after too, if that—"

"Longbottom," Graces interjected. "Don't."

"Right... Sorry... That's-that's not why you like me, right?

'What? No, of course not. How could you even think that?" Graces hissed, anger seeping out of her.

"I'm sorry. I just.. I'm sorry..."

Graces wished that she knew what to say to move past this awful moment, but nothing seemed to come to mind.

"You made yourself comfortable," she noted, looking at how Neville had dressed down to his boxers and tee.

Neville blushed and began to stutter out some apologies, but Graces just waved her hand.

"I didn't mean it like that. I was just reaching for something to say. I just wanted off the subject of... well, you know."

Graces didn't understand why this was so hard. It was just Longbottom. She spent plenty of nights alone with him. They were always together nowadays. This shouldn't be hard. It was never hard before.

_You're making this hard._

"Would you like to try this again?" Neville asked patiently, sliding his hands up her arms to cup her face.

"Yes," Graces breathed, shuddering as Neville touched his lips to hers.

"Do you want to get under the covers?" Neville smirked, knowing the reason for Graces' shudder had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

"Don't be a prat, Longbottom." Graces was sure she looked nervous, she certainly felt nervous, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't stop touching her hair or blushing and looking away from Neville's stare.

"Are you okay?" Neville asked, taking on a more solemn look and sitting back.

"I-I'm sorry," Graces sighed. "I'm just tired... It's been a long night. I tend to get short when I'm tired."

"Well, let's lay down then." Neville was now adjusting Graces blankets and pillows for the two of them to lie down together. Graces wished he wouldn't, this was exactly the thing she was nervous about. "We don't have to sleep with one another every time we are alone," Neville chuckled.

Graces nodded awkwardly at Neville's joke and laid beside him, tensing as he wrapped his arms around her and breathed in the smell of her hair. It really did feel good. Graces tried to just close her eyes and allow herself this moment of bliss. But the longer she allowed it the more her heart ached. This was all a whisper of what couldn't be. In another world, another time, or just different fate she could lay in a soft bed with Neville, enjoying the heat from his body next to hers through the night and waking in the morning beside him. She could feel safe with him and believe she would always have him there to warm her bed. But this wasn't that world. They didn't exist in a place where any of that could happen. What they had was temporary, and if she allowed herself one night to pretend they weren't she knew it would not end with just that one night. She would just continue to slip into an abyss of delusion.

Graces knew herself well enough to know that if she allowed herself to she would be in love with Neville. She had never really believed that that was a possibility, but the more she spent time with him the more she realized she had been so naïve. It would be so easy to fall in love with Neville, all she had to do was let go and her heart would do the rest. But she couldn't. She knew what would happen if she did. She would fall and her heart would break. She wasn't even sure if she was going to survive the summer. In all probability she was going to be killed by June and she was at peace with that. She wouldn't be at peace with that if she thought she had something worth living for. No, it was better for her to not love Neville and to be happy to die with those she did.

"Longbottom," she rasped, after a few moments of laying together. "I—uh—I don't think it would be wise for you to spend the night."

"Oh." Graces could already hear the disappointment Neville had in just one syllable, but she nodded her head anyways.

"I'm sorry, I just don't feel right about you sleeping in my bed with me," Graces continued honestly.

"We can sleep together, but just not _sleep together,_ right?" Neville surmised, bitterness intruding in his words, despite the understanding tone he was trying to maintain.

"Please don't be mad," Graces begged, taking Neville's hand. "I-I want you to, but I just can't."

"It's just sleeping," Neville whispered looking at her his hair disheveled from the pillow and a sad pleading look coming onto his features.

"Not to me."

Graces felt as though her whole body was vibrating as she waited for Neville to respond.

"Okay," he murmured softly, moving into her and kissing her gently on the cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you liked this chapter leave me a comment let me know what you thought!!


	41. Chapter 41

Graces would be lying if she said that she didn't regret kicking Neville out of her bed last night. She had regretted it the moment he had left. And it wasn't just because of the dejected look Neville had acquired at the news of her discomfort, it was because she truly wanted him there. She had never really felt anything like this before. Infatuation was a normal part of life. She had been witness to other people's crazed need to be with someone they fancied all the time, but she had never been a part of that. Graces, even when she and Nott were in the beginnings of their relationship, never wanted to be around Nott all the time. She did want to be around Neville though. That was probably the reason she was practically running to the greenhouse for class. She longed to be near him, though it had only been mere hours since their last meeting.

_It's normal to want to be around the guy you fancy,_ she reassured herself, thinking of all her friends' crushes. _I'm perfectly normal for wanting to be around him._

_You kicked him out of your bed to protect yourself from falling for him. How do you know you are not falling now?_

_I'm not._

_You should end this. You are not thinking of the consequences should you two be discovered._

_We won't be discovered._

"Good morning," Graces greeted quietly taking her usual spot at their herbology desk, determined to ignore that snide voice in her head.

"Morning," Neville murmured, continuing to look forward but allowing a soft smile to curl the edges of his mouth.

"So, uh, you're not cross are you?" Graces asked, knowing that kicking a boy out of your bed at the end of an evening would certainly warrant said boy being a bit miffed.

"Cross?" Neville mouthed, a slight furrow in his brow as he processed Graces' question. "Oh, no. I'm not cross," Neville chuckled warmly. "In fact, I have even brought you a gift."

"A gift?" Graces had to prevent herself from completely turning her head to face Neville at the news that he had brought her a gift. "What kind of gift?"

"It's on your seat," he shrugged, trying to be as casual about his surprise as possible. "I didn't want it to be obvious in case people were around."

Graces peered up at Neville hesitantly for a moment before slowly pulling out her stool. It was a fay bracelet, like the children had made for her, only much more elaborate. A hawthorn vine was used as a base for the piece, bits of white clovers woven into it and almond blossoms were braided inside the wormwood through the base while the small blooms edged around. Graces imagined it took hours to make. Every part of it was intricately done, right down to the salvia clasp.

"This is stunning," Graces breathed.

"It's just a fay bracelet," Neville chuckled. "You should put it on before anyone sees."

"I can't wear this," Graces whispered, putting her hands under the table while she evaluated the workman ship more. "No one would believe a child made this. They wouldn't know how to spell the plants to bend like this."

"A child indeed could make that," Neville argued, lowering his voice as people took their seats. "No spells were used, except a preservation one at the end. I know a child can make it, because I made an exact copy of that one as a child. I used to make fay jewelry all the time."

"You made exact replicas of this as a child?" Graces asked, unable to hide her astonishment.

"Yeah, that was the one I made the most. I would spend a few hours each day making them. My gran still has most of the ones I made her. She keeps them in this wooden box in her closet. She just loved wearing them and telling people that I made them. I hadn't had any accidental magic, but I was talented in something at least."

Graces continued staring at the bracelet. Hawthorn: hope. White clover: think of me. Almond blossom: hope. Salvia: to heal. Fay necklaces held meaning. It was a silly way to allow young children to feel that they were helping others before they could do magic, the thought being that if you raised a child that would work to make such pieces, you would raise a child to use their talents in magic to help others. She remembered making her grandfather a necklace out of salvia when he went to St. Mungos before he passed away.

She remembered crying for hours after his death. She was sure it was because she didn't use enough Salvia. That was the day her mother had told her that fay necklaces didn't do anything. It was just something children make to allow them to feel helpful, and that it made her grandfather happy because his granddaughter wanted to help.

"Who did you make the fay pieces for?" Graces asked cautiously.

She noticed Neville's back stiffen at the question and immediately had an idea as to why he became so practiced in making fay jewelry.

"Just family members." Neville shrugged. "My gran, Uncle Algie, grandfather before he passed... and my mum and dad."

The last two were said so quietly that Graces was sure Neville had been hoping she wouldn't hear it. Graces stared down at the beautiful bracelet and gingerly touched her thumb to white clover: think of me. It was a heart wrenching thing to see on a fay bracelet that was a mimic of the one he had made for his parents. Graces couldn't even imagine longing for such a thing; she knew without a shadow of a doubt that her parents thought of her. Which lead her to wonder just how insane were Neville's parents if they couldn't think of their son?

She looked up at Neville, her eyes alive with a million questions, but unsure as to how to ask any of them.

"I-I thought if I made one exceptionally well it would change things..." Neville continued, clearly embarrassed but wanting to explain himself." It didn't, though. Took me years to realize, but I finally did. They're just plants woven together to look pretty; they don't actually help."

"Oh, N—Longbottom." Pain like this was not something Graces had ever had to encounter on another's behalf. She wanted to place her hand over Neville's and comfort him, but with the audience around she couldn't. All she could do was try to offer words, and she didn't see words as much comfort. "It's the thought that makes loved ones feel better. That you took the time to make the bracelets. I'm sure they appreciated it. It's so beautiful, how could they not?"

"They didn't."

"What makes you thi—"

"I don't want to talk about this," Neville rasped, opening his book and pretending to read the index. "Can we please just drop this."

Graces didn't want to drop this. She wanted to discuss this matter with Neville. She had a feeling that the boy beside her didn't discuss his parents with anyone.

"Another time?" she tried hopefully. Neville looked over at her briefly before begrudgingly nodding.

Wanting for Neville to feel even the slightest bit better she placed the bracelet on her own arm. She felt a deep-seated warmth towards the boy next to her as he watched her gingerly clasp the bracelet.

"Graces, you don't have to—"

"I really like it," she murmured, not wanting to hear Neville tell her she didn't have to wear it. "It's charming. No one ever makes me things, they always buy me things."

She offered Neville a small smile, which he returned affectionately. Graces had a feeling that if they were alone he would have kissed her.

_He's a good kisser,_ she thought, allowing her thoughts to wander. As Professor Sprout talked about soil in different regions, she was imagining gently taking Neville's lower lip between her teeth—causing the shy boy to become _just slightly_ more forceful with her.

"Can we meet tonight?" she asked after a while of imagining the sort of escapades she and Neville could get tangled up in.

"Have I ever said no?" Neville smirked, making sure to face forward so people didn't know they were speaking with such affection.

"Can it be a bit late? I have plans after dinner, but I was hoping you and I could meet after curfew."

"After curfew, huh? You realize should I be caught I would have detention. Not all of us have prefect badges to wave around."

"I'll make it worth your while," Graces promised. "Do you like baths, Longbottom? I do. Long, hot ones with lots of bath salts. I swear there's nothing like sinking into something that feels so luxuriously warm after a long day." Graces peeked behind her long lashes, and could see color starting to spread through Neville's cheeks as he tried to maintain a composed look while listening to Professor Sprout's instructions. "Maybe tonight, _if you're up for it_ , we could take a bath together," she suggested casually.

"Yeah, that would be nice," Neville agreed tightly, moving his seat further towards the desk.

"You're flushing, Mr. Longbottom," Graces teased lowly as she took a few notes down from the lecture. "You know being so flushed could indicate a fever, are you feeling well? Maybe we shouldn't meet tonight."

Graces knew Neville was trying to give off the impression that her teasing was not well received, but he was failing miserably. Though he was pursing his lips and refusing to answer her, he also had this shine to his eyes and the edges of his mouth were fighting against a grin.

"You're trying not to smile," Graces sang quietly when Professor Sprout turned to pick up another pot of soil from Romania.

"You're such a prat," Neville snorted, grinning from ear to ear as he shook his head in disbelief.

"You're a prat," Graces retorted in a way that spoke of years of having a sibling.

"Mr. Longbottom, Miss Malfoy, do you have something to share with the class?"

"Longbottom's a prat," Graces repeated unabashed over her partner's embarrassed stutterings of no.

"Miss Malfoy! Five points from Slytherin."

"I don't see how that's fair," Graces scowled. "You asked if we had anything we would like to share. I assumed that you were asking what we were talking about and I had just called Longbottom here a prat. How was I supposed to know you were being facetious?"

"Five points for impudence and another five points for insulting Mr. Longbottom."

"He called me a prat first; I was merely responding to his insult."

"Miss Malfoy, are you trying to gain a detention for tonight?" Professor Sprout asked, clearly losing her patience.

Graces looked as though she were going to make a biting retort, but before she could get it out Neville kicked her shin from the side. The stout older witch seemed to assume that the young boy had done such action for her, but Graces knew it was because he definitely did not want her in detention and missing their plans.

"No, Professor," she grumbled, sending Neville a glare that told him he would be paying dearly for that.

"Good," the Hufflepuff clipped. "And Neville could you please not antagonize Miss Malfoy? No matter how much she may be deserving," she added under her breath.

"Should I tell her you called me a prat for making you smile," Graces whispered.

Neville didn't respond, but he did bring his hand up to hide his smile behind his rest of the class was dedicated to work. Most of the work was going around all the greenhouses and taking notes so later they could write papers on why certain soils were being used for specific plants. Graces and Neville found themselves in greenhouse five when Neville stole a kiss behind some overgrown shrubs. A few months ago Graces would have had a fit and pushed him away while chastising him for the action, but this wasn't a few months ago, this was now. Instead she closed her eyes and enjoyed kissing him.

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"Bout time you showed up." Graces smiled, standing up from the wall she was leaning on.

Neville had come to accept the fact that he was never going to get over Graces Malfoy. His heart was always and forever going to be hers. He could not imagine having this overwhelming feeling of affection for anyone else. He loved her teasing ways, her little smirk, her lively gray eyes—when did the color gray become lively? He didn't want to love anyone else. He wanted to forever be smitten with Graces Malfoy.

"Sorry, I couldn't find my coat."

"Where do you last remember having it?" Graces asked serenely.

"I don't remember," Neville shrugged, not really caring about his coat any longer and moving closer her.

"It was a nice coat," Graces continued. "Very plain, just a black winter coat, but I definitely prefer it on you over those hideous sweaters."

"I shall be sure to buy a new coat then," Neville murmured, kissing her neck.

"With the money from your business?"

Neville paused his endeavours and straightened his back so he was now looking down at the blonde.

"Did you forget about giving me your gold?"

"I had," Neville said slowly, under the suspicion that he was about to be chastised once again for his forgetfulness.

"Where did you think it was?"

Neville tried to ignore the heat that was spreading through his cheeks. "I just completely forgot about it," he admitted.

He waited for Graces to begin berating him for his inattentions, but she just nodded her head and let him know that she had both his money and his coat before leading him the rest of the way to the prefect bathrooms.

Despite Graces' lack of yelling and seemingly understanding attitude he still felt incredibly embarrassed. Most people did not forget about 3000 gallons, nor did they leave their coat in a room where they definitely shouldn't have been. He knew that Graces had seen how forgetful he was over the years, but he also felt like that part of him hadn't been shown in awhile. He liked not being seen as an idiot all the time.

"I-I don't mean to be forgetful," he began, no longer comfortable with the silence. "I just am. It's not that I'm lax or anything. I'm just absent minded because I'm thinking of other things and, well—"

"We all have flaws," Graces cut in dismissively, continuing forward without even a glance.

Neville wasn't quite sure what that meant. Did Graces truly believe imperfections were unimportant, or did she just not want to discuss his flaws? "I've reminded you that I'm an idiot, haven't I?"

"Low self-esteem is also a flaw," Graces clipped coolly. "A flaw which I place full responsibility on your grandmother for. Patriarchs need to be confident in their abilities while aware of flaws. Your gran should have realized raising you with confidence was more important than scolding you."

"My grandmother was just—"

"You should hire someone to keep you organized once you graduate," Graces interrupted, obviously not wanting to hear any excuses he was going to offer on behalf of his gran. "An assistant would help you greatly as well as ensure that no money went forgotten. When you get married perhaps your wife could take care of such matters for you," she added softly as they neared the prefect entrance.

"It shouldn't be my wife's responsibility to keep track of my mistakes."

"Couples often times are better when they complete one another," Graces lectured. "What one partner lacks the other can make up for and vice versa. It's better to keep such things in mind when courting."

"What are you bad at?"

"Overreacting, taking on too many tasks, not handling stress in a healthy manner, lacking warmth, refusing to eat anything well-balanced, running to my mummy and daddy for every little thing." Graces laughed heartily before adding Draco to that list. "Gardening. I'm sure there is more, but I'm not a patriarch. My flaws are of little importance. They will affect me and my own, but not the whole of our family."

"You're an heir," Neville pointed out. "Shouldn't you be learning things a patriarch should possess?"

"I will never be the head of my family, Longbottom."

Neville was about to say something along the lines of "you never know", but stopped himself from making such a foolish comment.

"I'd be a good match for you."

_You stop yourself from making a foolish comment and then say an even more foolish one?_

"You wouldn't be able to handle me." Graces grinned slyly after muttering the password to the bathroom in front of a large statue.

_Just let it end there._

"I think I could." _You're an idiot and I hate you._

Graces turned in front of him, preventing him from going any farther into the bathroom, and stared at him quizzically.

"What exactly are you trying to say, Longbottom?"

"I, uh, what do you think I'm trying to say?" Neville blundered nervously.

"I think you are suggesting that I would be well suited to marry you."

"I, uh, well, maybe not marry me, but be a couple possibly, or just formally court or—"

"Those all eventually lead to the discussion of marriage," Graces said, her steel eyes piercing into him.

"I-I'm just saying that we're well suited for one another by your definition," Neville whispered, embarrassed under Graces hostile glare. "I'm not saying I would marry you or anything, frankly right now I just want to run away from you, but I'm just saying we complement one another."

Graces seemed to be evaluating all that Neville had said, she didn't release him from her ominous gaze, and Neville would be lying if he said he wasn't relieved when she just turned around and continued walking. He continued to stare at the blonde as she made her way over to a small room to the side where some cubbies and fresh towels were. He really hadn't a clue about what Graces thought on the subject. Her face displayed no hint allowing him to know if she agreed or disagreed.

"Uh, you know if you ever wanted more, I wouldn't be opposed to us d—"

"What I want" Graces cut in, a sultry smile on her lips as she began to unbutton her blouse. "Is for you to undress and meet me in the bath."

Neville felt his mouth go dry as Graces allowed her skirt to fall about her ankles before stepping out of it and lazily walking away. The Gryffindor had half a mind to continue the same manner of undressing and follow her, but with his lack of grace he would probably end up stumbling out of his pants rather than stepping out of them. Hurriedly he began taking off his clothes, not bothering to even unzip or unbutton them properly before bundling them up in a ball and throwing them in an open locker. When he emerged from the small closet he was taken aback to find Graces in a robe.

"A bit overzealous, Longbottom?" she asked cheekily, raising an eyebrow as she sat beside the water's edge and poured a purple oil from a crystal vase into the pool like bath. Neville could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and absently moved his hands to cover his more private parts. "Robes are in the closet, Longbottom," Graces giggled. "No need to rush. it takes some time to draw a bath."

Graces had to bite her lower lip to keep from snickering at Neville as he took a few timid steps backwards to the closet and whipped a robe off the rack, hurriedly dressing himself.

"I did appreciate the show. It was very... excited."

"You're such a sweetheart," Neville murmured sarcastically, blushing scarlet.

"I am," Graces pouted, twirling her fingers in the water, sending out small ripples. "I'm drawing you a bath. I think that would be considered sweet." Graces peeked up through her long eyelashes and saw it was working. Despite Neville's best efforts to look sour he was already beginning to fold. "Has anyone ever given you a massage before?"

"Uh, no," Neville said cautiously, looking over at the water.

"Come," Graces ordered, gesturing for Neville to get in. "I'll give you one."

"No, no, no. It's fine. You don't have to."

"I want to," Graces smiled, gesturing again to the water.

Neville raised an eyebrow, but obeyed and walked over to the water. Graces tried not to hide her amusement as he awkwardly disrobed and tried to maneuver into the water so she wouldn't see.

"I've already seen everything, you know."

"Yes, well," Neville cleared his throat. "You weren't exactly examining it those times."

"Feeling a bit exposed, Longbottom? Getting coy?"

"Just trying to adjust to the water... It is a bit hot," Neville murmured quietly. "Are you going to come in with me?"

"Not yet," Graces mused, kicking up some water with her legs and splashing Neville playfully. "I'm going to give you a massage." Neville nodded and seemed to be trying to shrink into himself. "I suppose I should come over there if you're going to be shy," she winked, turning on an amber jeweled tap as she passed it.

"Do all those taps do something?" Neville asked as bubbles began to climb all around him.

"Yes, the purple oil I was putting in is mine. I believe I've mentioned I have sensitive skin. The oil is lavender, the only thing I don't break out in hives to. The tap I just put on is an oatmeal bubble. It's rare I can stand to be in a bubble bath with no reaction, but I recently was told that particular tap is for sensitive skin." Graces took a seat at the edge and waited for Neville to come sit at her legs. "I won't bite, Longbottom."

"Right, you'll just stab me with a knife," Neville joked, obviously feeling better now that there were bubbles hiding him underneath the water.

"That was one time," Graces laughed.

"One time is enough."

Graces couldn't believe that they were joking about that night. Neville didn't seem to find her stabbing him a big deal at all now, despite how painful the whole ordeal had been for him. Most people would never go near someone who poisoned a dagger and then drove that dagger in their skin, but Neville was not most people. He instead had taken a seat in front of her and was leaning back against the tub while her legs dangled to his sides.

Graces absently brushed his hair to the side as he leaned his head down and closed his eyes. He really was an amazing man: kind, affectionate, trusting; and he was becoming more and more handsome to her with each passing day. She was sure Neville wasn't physically changing all that much. Yes, he had lost weight, but it was more than that to her.

"I forgot to shave."

"What?" The blonde immediately moved her hands up, she hadn't realized that she had absently been playing with the stubble on Neville's jaw until he spoke.

"I forgot to shave this morning," he repeated, not bothering to open his eyes, clearly content to lay between her legs as she stroked his face. "It grows really fast. I usually will go back to the dorm and shave if I forget in the mornings, but..." Neville let his voice trail off and just shrugged.

"I kind of like it," Graces admitted, allowing herself to continue touching him.

"Then I shall forget more often," Neville smirked.

"Don't grow a beard or anything."

"Mmm, so you just like the stubble?"

"I like the stubble," Graces conceded, leaning down and kissing Neville softly, not moving away when he wound his fingers through her hair and opened his mouth to her. "This is a very uncomfortable position for me," Graces murmured between kisses, still bent down.

"Then come inside the pool."

"It's a tub," Graces whispered against his lips.

"That's debatable."

Graces let out a small sigh against Neville's next kiss. It always astounded her how good of a kisser he kiss and she was melting into him, wanting nothing more than to bend to his every wish.

"Come into the _tub_ ," he suggested, moving his hands up above his head and opening her robe to tempt the peaks of her breasts.

"No, I want to give you a massage," Graces insisted, though she didn't pull away from Neville's lips.

"I'll give you something to massage."

"Stop it," Graces laughed, sitting back up and closing her robe around her.

"I thought the whole point of this was to take a bath together," Neville groaned, not at all liking how Graces had covered herself.

"All in good time, Mr. Longbottom," Graces promised, kissing the side of his jaw while moving her hands to his shoulders. "Just relax."

Graces could feel Neville tense despite her request, but patiently ignored his taut muscles. She decided to start slowly and just run her fingers through his hair. He did after all seem relaxed when she was just touching his face, so hair couldn't be all that different. At first he had frowned, but as she began to apply pressure to his scalp his face relaxed and she could tell by the way his lower lip fell open slightly that he was beginning to enjoy it. Slowly she moved lower to his neck and shoulders, rotating between the two and frowning at all the knots.

"I thought massages were supposed to feel good," Neville gritted, as she pressed her thumb harder into his shoulder.

"You have a lot of knots," Graces sighed. "It will feel better once I work some of them out. If you had better posture you wouldn't have so many knots. You always slouch."

"You're starting to sound like my gran," Neville muttered, letting out a yelp as Graces smacked his forehead.

"Don't get cheeky," she scolded, going back to his shoulders. "I'm trying to help you."

"It feels like you're trying to tear my muscles apart," Neville said, arching his back.

"Just relax," Graces cooed, leaning down and kissing his temple softly. "Just relax and trust me."

Neville bit his tongue and let Graces continue. He tried to take his mind off the pain and think of other things, like how Graces had her hands all over him and how thoughtful and kind she was being. No one had ever given him a massage. He honestly never even thought to have one. Sure, sometimes he would massage his shoulders after a long day bent over soil, but it never occurred to him to have someone else rub them.

Graces wanted to, though. She wanted to rub his shoulders and draw him a relaxing bath. She wanted him to improve his posture and have more confidence. She thought of his future beyond just a simple life of being a professor and talked about him opening up businesses and developing plants. She thought he could be a great man, that he already was a good one.

"What?" Graces asked.

"What?"

"You're looking at me funny," Graces commented, still making circular movements with her thumbs and looking down at him.

"Am I?" Neville breathed, taking in her features as her hair fell down around him.

"You are."

"Sorry, I-I was just thinking of something."

"About how pretty I am?" Graces teased.

"Breathtaking was the word that came to mind, but yes."

"You're such a sap," Graces scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Come into the bath," Neville implored, turning around and tugging at Graces robe.

"Enjoy your backrub," Graces countered, turning him around again. "I think you were just starting to enjoy it," she whispered in his ear, her hot breath tickling his ear and sending a shot of pleasure down his body.

She had been correct, he was starting to enjoy the feeling of her hands rubbing against his muscles. The pain and discomfort was now being replaced with something a lot more pleasant. There was still at times a flash of pain, but it was replaced by an echoing feeling of relief as his muscles relaxed around the area.

"This feels nice," he murmured sleepily, closing his eyes.

"I know it does."

"Who gives you massages?"

"Draco sometimes will, if I look tense or if practice was particularly brutal, but more often I have a massage when I go to the spa."

"The spa, huh?" Neville chuckled.

"What?" Graces laughed.

"You go to the spa and I like to be knee deep in soil and fertilizer. We're just a pair aren't we?"

"I think you would enjoy going to a spa, have a professional work some of these knots out."

"I don't want to be responsible for murder," Neville yawned.

"Murder?" Graces said slowly.

"You would kill the poor woman that touched me. I thought for a moment you were going to hurt Professor Sprout for putting some of that balm on me at the lake. Not to mention the looks you give Hermione and Hannah, yeah pretty sure if I let some witch rub me down you would hunt her down."

"I told you I was possessive," Graces reminded warmly, moving just under his shoulder blades to massage.

"I don't mind," Neville murmured, moving his hands to her dangling legs and running his fingers up and down the soft skin. "You may not be mine to be possessive with, but I'm all yours."

Everything was right on the tip of his tongue. Neville felt as though he were nodding off to sleep and drunk in euphoria, he knew he had just said something he should have held back, but he didn't care. He could feel a million other words right at the opening of his mouth. I love you being the most prominent cluster.

The declaration was just pounding against his teeth. He wanted to say it, it felt right for now to be the time when he just gave it all up and told her. I love you, I love you, I love you. It was all he could even think about now. He felt as though just saying those three measly little words would take some sort of weight off him.

Wanting to preoccupy his traitorous lips, he turned and slowly began kissing the inside of Graces' leg. He etched the words slowly with his tongue as he moved to her knee.

He could feel his breathing becoming labored and his heart hammering against his chest the more he kissed her skin. Graces seemed to be affected too. Her fingers had paused in their work, and the skin he was kissing was now raised with goosebumps. If anything it fueled him more and placed even more words of affection into his contained speech.

Neville felt Graces' movements as she discarded her robe and moaned as she began nibbling on his ear while she lowered herself behind him into the hot water. Her fingers still nimbly working down his spine until she was massaging his lower back. It felt so wonderful being taken care of like this. Having the woman of his dreams massaging his sore muscles while kissing his neck and shoulders affectionately. He leaned back and captured Graces' lips with his own in a searing, blood-boiling kiss.

It was a kiss that he was too afraid to allow to stop. "I love you" had turned into "gods above, I love you". There was no way he was going to be able to keep it in if this continued, so he kept his mouth busy and tried to keep his mind far from thinking about how much he loved her. It was proving more and more difficult as their kissing continued.

"I told you, all in good time," Graces breathed, sucking on his lower lip and reaching her arms around to stroke his aching length. "Isn't the bath so much better when you're relaxed?"

Neville hummed a reply against her lips and held his breath as she broke away and moved in front of him. Neville smiled as Graces hesitated before him, hiding in a mound of bubbles as her eyes hungrily took him in.

"I swear you could be part veela," Neville breathed, parting the bubbles so he could gaze at her glistening chest.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just call me a half-breed," Graces quipped, though she blushed from the compliment all the same.

Neville stayed seated where he was and just drank her in. The words once again were playing on his tongue. He wanted to bring her in close and whisper his endless love into her neck and kiss her soundly before she could reply.

"Come here," he smiled, taking her hands and guiding her forward until she stood against his knees. He let go of her palms and brushed his knuckles against her soft skin before gently running his hands down her side to her hips, smirking as he felt the smooth dragon scales..

"You like them, right?" Graces asked, allowing him a glimpse of her insecurities.

"I love them," Neville corrected, looking up into her silver eyes. "I really do. I absolutely love them. And I love that you let me place them." Graces gave a small relieved smile, which Neville didn't hesitate to kiss. He could feel her hands beginning to seek him out, wandering up from his chest back to the scruff along his chin as she climbed on top of him so she was now straddling him. He was still looking at her, his eyes now parallel with hers and he couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. He brought his hand to cup her face, allowing his thumb to trace the outline of her high cheek bones, before moving to her soft lips. "Graces," he whispered, in a daze of euphoria. "I—"

Neville didn't have a chance to utter more as Graces' soft lips gently silenced his. She kissed him again, hesitantly testing as though she still after all this time felt a need to ask permission. Neville answered by wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her closer to him, so that the bristle of hair on his chest was against her smooth skin as she lowered herself on top of him.

He groaned as she took her time slowly sinking over him. She would lower herself down an inch and lift herself up, slowly gaining another inch with each movement. She was so tight. Neville groaned at how tight she was. One moment he wanted to thrust up and have her take all of him, and the next moment he would see her biting her lip and he was instantly reminded he didn't want to hurt her. So he held back and gritted his teeth as she stretched herself out around his unyielding thickness. Neville hissed with pleasure as Graces slid up the last stretch and back down so he was now completely embedded in her.

Neville closed his eyes and leaned forward so that his head was resting against her chest as he tried to compose himself. Graces started to move, but he quickly grabbed her hips to steady her.

"You feel too good," he chuckled, looking down into the water slightly embarrassed. A shiver went down his spine as Graces hands moved to his hair, tipping his head up to her's so she could kiss him longingly while she pushed her hips forward and back allowing him to go deeper.

"Graces," Neville protested.

"I don't care," she panted, continuing to slide up and down him, her own breathing becoming more erratic and her skin flushing pink. "We can go again later. I don't want to stop."

Neville was not about to argue, especially when Graces was rolling her hips in a way that had his vision blurring. The need to have her twisted inside him violently, like a brush fire raging within him. He slid his lips down her body, closing them around the one crevice only to move to the next. He held her back as she arched into him, the sounds coming from her mouth a testament to her own fulfillment. He tried to hold back, but the sounds she was making alone had him over the edge with passionate need. He gripped her hips tightly, moving her faster while he desperately tried to taste every inch of skin he could reach. He could feel his climax growing and shuddered as he became close to letting go.

Then suddenly it was gone and he and Graces stilled as they heard the ominous sound of the statue dragging along the stone ground at the entrance.

"What was that?" Neville whispered, Graces eyes telling him everything.

"Hide. Hide," she mouthed hysterically, pushing Neville away to the stairs and swearing to herself over and over. Neville did as he was told and chose to hide behind another doorway where it seemed showers were kept. He could hear the footsteps of someone approaching and looked to see how Graces was handling the prospect of an intruder.

He was surprised to see that the blonde had managed to gather herself and was sitting at the other side of the tub her head laying along the side as though she were just relaxing from a hard day. The only telltale sign that something was amiss was how flushed her face was and that her chest was heaving from breathing so hard. He wondered who exactly was coming in and prayed that whoever it was would just leave when seeing that the bath was preoccupied.

Unable to keep his curiosity at bay, peeked out from a crack in the door to see who was closing in on the room

_Fuck._

"Oh," Hermione exclaimed startled. The bushy-haired girl quickly turned away from the bath so she was facing the closet from which she had just emerged. "I'm sorry, I-I didn't realize anyone was in here."

"Well, someone is," Graces drawled.

"Right... sorry," Hermione said faintly, clutching her bathrobe around herself tightly.

Graces didn't bother to reply, she just leaned back and closed her eyes, as though she were just basking in the warmth of the water.

"Umm, how long do you think you will be?"

"An hour and a half," Graces clipped, still keeping her eyes closed.

"You're kidding," Hermione deadpanned. Graces just ignored Hermione's outrage and sighed contently. "It takes you an hour and a half to wash?" Hermione continued skeptically.

"I'm not washing, I am relaxing and enjoying a hot bubble bath." When there was no sound of Hermione leaving, she sat up and stared over at the Gryffindor glaring at her."I realize that I am quite attractive, but I would appreciate you leaving now. I don't like other people watching me bathe," Graces added with a smirk.

"You do not need an hour and a half to relax in the tub. Not when other people are waiting for it."

"I see no other people; I just see you."

Hermione looked as though she wanted nothing more than to whip out her wand and hex Graces, but she didn't. Instead she raised her chin in the air and declared that she would wait.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll wait," Hermione repeated, striding over to an empty couch and taking a seat. Making sure to pull her robe close around her as she sat down. "I refuse to leave."

"Suit yourself," Graces sang, lifting one of her legs out of the water and examining the skin. Neville wondered if she was purposely trying to make Hermione uncomfortable. Part of him wished she would stop, while the other part of him hoped that was exactly what she was doing and Hermione would leave. Unfortunately, for both him and Graces, Hermione just looked the other way, her mouth twisted as though she had ate something sour.

Neville was beginning to realize that Graces was not the only strong-willed girl in that room. Hermione and Graces both were clearly not going to budge from their decision to not leave. Hermione sat reading a book bristling over the blonde in the pool who was now floating on her back, completely unashamed over her humble mounds sticking up from the water like islands in an ocean.

"Why won't you leave Neville alone?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence and moving to the edge of the water to glare down at the girl before her.

"Leave him alone," Graces frowned. "Now, why would I do that? Longbottom needs my help, and I owe him a debt."

"You know what I mean," Hermione gritted. "Why are you toying with him? Flirting with him, touching his arm, asking him to help you with herbology, isolating him from his friends. Why are you doing this?"

"Now, Granger," Graces smiled, wafting the water around her lazily "I would think that's obvious. I'm doing it because of you."

"Please, stop," Hermione choked. "Please."

"No."

"Neville's a good guy," Hermione hiccuped, a few tears spilling out of her eyes. "A sensitive guy, he doesn't deserve to be hurt because you want to assert dominance over me."

"I do love hearing you grovel," Graces mused.

Hermione pursed her lips and gritted her teeth. Neville watched as her posture became taut and her brown eyes darkened.

"He doesn't actually like you, you know?"

"Hmm?"

"Neville. He doesn't actually like you."

Graces was now sitting up in the tub. If Hermione had wanted her attention she now had it.

"He certainly seems like he does."

"He's just infatuated with you," Hermione shot, rolling her eyes. "Like you said, you have an effect on men. Neville is just confused. He would never really _want_ to be with a girl like you? He just doesn't know you. I don't know what you're saying to him when you two are alone, if you're continuing that awful act of being interested like you did in potions, but even so, Neville will figure it out."

"Maybe he will, maybe he won't," Graces sang, moving her hand down the middle of her breasts. "My mother always said men were weak."

"They just love pretty things," Graces sighed. "Especially at this age. All the teenage hormones running wild. They don't think of anything else except how to get their hands where they don't belong."

"Neville's better than that. He cares for people. He's going to realize that he wants to be with a kind, generous, sweet girl and that as pretty as you are you're just vile on the inside."

"Longbottom is a man just like the rest of them," Graces scoffed. " Hell, even Weasley is obsessed with such notions. Snogging Lavender in any dark corner he can find. Even so called righteous good men like gorgeous women warming their beds."

Graces was now moving out of the water, slowly climbing the stairs where Hermione was standing, allowing her golden hair to fall dripping wet on her back. Completely unashamed of her body, in fact it almost seemed as though she wanted the other girl to notice its perfection. Graces moved towards Hermione like a predator slowly stalking it's prey.

"You're right, like all good men Longbottom will do his duty and realize I am not the kind of girl he should be wanting. And he will give his name to some sweet light witch who will bear his children and be kind and generous to all." Hermione backed away from Graces' feral grin, but the blonde continued to advance on her slowly. "But then I bet at night, when he climbs on top of his wife, his mind will wander and he won't be thinking of her as he's moving inside her. He'll be thinking of me and imagining what I would feel like underneath him."

Hermione was now pinned against the wall, Graces was so close to her the peaks of her breasts brushed against her robe. She looked as though she could kiss her; her mouth was hovering right near hers, so their breath was intermingling.

"You're a monster," Hermione whispered, trying to push herself into the stone wall.

"I hate that word," Graces growled. "How is it you have lived among us for almost six years and you still after all that time use that disgusting muggle word." Hermione flinched as Graces slammed her hand against the wall by her ear. "Do you know what that word is in our world?"

"A creature," Hermione said evenly, not allowing Graces' intimidation tactics to get the better of her. "A creature that is evil and frightening."

"A monster is a word used by muggles to describe a creature or being they don't understand. Something that frightens them," Graces said slowly, her whole body shaking out of anger. "Your people use it as an excuse to kill."

"Like how you use mudblood?" Hermione shot, baring her teeth.

"We understand you," Graces said evenly. "We just don't care for you."

Graces moved away from Hermione, allowing her space.

"Muggles are pathetic and weak," Graces informed, walking around the pool idly. "That alone is no sin, many creatures are, but muggles allow that weakness to rule over them making them frightened of anything powerful."

"They just can't handle the truth of a world bigger, better, magical," Graces added, looking over at Hermione. "They need to be kept in the dark. It's not fair. Why should we hide because they can't handle our presence?"

"That's not how it is," Hermione spat. "If that were true how do muggleborn children have parents that know they are magical? How—"

Graces started laughing hysterically at Hermione's question, until she was holding a chair to keep herself from falling over.

"Your parents can't handle you," Graces cackled. "You know that, though. Don't you, Granger? That's why you don't go home often, why you are always going off to the Weasleys. Your parents can't handle you. They're not parents anymore. They haven't been parents to you in a long time."

"I bet it's hard for you being at home, watching them struggle to do the simplest of tasks without magic. It must be hard to see your parents as inferior to you."

"I love my parents," Hermione declared, shaking. "I—"

"I'm sure you do," Graces shrugged. "But that doesn't change the fact that you have surpassed them. That they can't take care of and protect you."

Hermione's throat bobbed as she swallowed some amount of emotion. She opened her mouth to say more, but Graces interjected.

"You don't belong here and you don't belong there," Graces whispered.

"I'm a witch," Hermione rasped. "I have just as much right to be here as you."

"You're no witch," Graces shook. "You're a mudblood. You're like a weed in a garden. You may look like a flower, some may even mistake you as being one when you're surrounded by all the beautiful petals around, but in truth at the end of the day you're just a weed. A weed that pollutes the bed it sets its roots in. And I for one can't wait till we weed you out like the parasites you are," Graces whispered viciously.

"I'm not scared of you," Hermione whispered, her voice unyielding.

"Good," Graces murmured, taking a piece of Hermione's unruly hair and tucking it behind her ear. "It wouldn't be nearly as much fun if you were."

Neville waited until he heard the statue move back in place after Hermione left before bursting of hiding and turning on Graces.

"What is wrong with you?!" he barked, not bothering to wait for an answer as he grabbed his stuff out of the locker. "I can't believe this. I can't believe you coul—"

Neville couldn't even finish his sentence. He had no idea the woman he was in love with could be so cruel and wicked. He was torn between screaming, crying, and cursing. He began violently putting on his clothes, determined to get out of this hell he was currently standing in and away to somewhere he could sit and make sense of it all.

"What's wrong with me? Nothing is wrong with me, I—"

"You can't treat people like that, Graces!" Neville declared, slamming his fist into a locker. "You can't. The things you said, the way you acted, it was—"

"Oh, it's just Granger. Stop being so dramatic."

"Hermione is a person! With feelings and—"

"Why are you defending her?" Graces screeched, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "You two are fighting, she betrayed you, she—"

"She's my friend!"

"She's just a mudblood!"

Neville stared at the blonde in front of him. 'She's just a mudblood,' Graces said it as though she was saying Hermione was just a dog. As though she wasn't even human.

_You heard her...She doesn't think she is._

"My gods, Graces." Neville whispered, shock now settling into his system leaving him with this void feeling as he looked at her. "You really believe all that whacked out bullshit. You really think that she's—oh, gods."

"We're not the same," Graces urged, moving to take his hands as though she needed him to understand. "I know you like Granger, but you are just misinformed. She's different than you. She's—"

"You're right," Neville gritted, tearing his hands away. "She's different than me. She's better than me. Hermione Granger is more powerful, more talented, more hard working, and she's smarter than me. So if you believe her to be less of a witch than you then what must you think of me."

"Longbottom," Graces pleaded, moving to take his arm.

Neville moved away though. "You're wrong, Graces. You're so fucking wrong. I need to get out of here. I can't even look at you without feeling sick to my stomach. I need to calm down, before I say something we'll both regret."

"So telling me that the sight of me makes you sick to your stomach isn't something you are going to regret?" Graces called, to his back as he hurried to the exit.

"Do you have any idea how evil you sounded talking to Hermione like that!?" Neville bellowed, gesturing to the pool and moving back into the room. "You're a beauty Graces, but when you opened your mouth there.... I've never seen anyone become so ugly."

"This is ridiculous," Graces hissed. "We shouldn't be fighting like this over a mudblood. I know you're a muggle lover, but—"

"That's right," Neville laughed. "I'm a muggle lover."

Graces backed away as Neville began to cry through the laughing. He was sure he was frightening her, that he must appear to be going mad, but he honestly felt like reality was slipping, like he didn't have a hold on anything anymore.

"I treat people like people and it makes me a muggle lover. I believe that blood status is nothing but a social construction to keep a hierarchy and I'm a blood traitor." Neville nodded at his words and stared off into the room, as he thought of his titles. "I'm glad for those titles," he thought aloud. "To me, it means that I'm a good person, and to you it means I'm a traitor."

Graces stood motionless as Neville moved slowly over to her, his brown eyes holding her silver with a mixture of emotions, anger simmering through them along with something close to pity.

"Don't place yourself under any delusions, Malfoy," Neville said lowly, gently cupping her chin. "You read muggle books, listen to muggle music, and are currently fucking me. You're a traitor too."

Neville could tell he just broke something in Graces. He had just smashed a thin delusion of her identity and made her face it. It was hard seeing the fear that was now in her eyes, but at the same time it wasn't as hard as seeing the hate that had raged in them as she looked at Hermione.

With a long breath he moved his hands away and turned to go. But right as he reached the door one more thing pulled him back in.

"Oh and one more thing," he rasped, looking back over to the woman he still loved. "I would never never use someone like that. If I'm still thinking of you in ten, twenty or a hundred years I wouldn't touch anyone else."

You have a duty to your family," Graces reminded hollowly. "Responsibilities you can't—"

"I have a duty to my heart," Neville said proudly. "To the man I want to be. And the man I want to be wouldn't be the type to marry a woman and ask her to bear my children when I couldn't stop thinking of you. If those were my options I would rather the Longbottom line die out. It's cruel to use someone's love like that. Would you really do that? Marry and bear a man's children wishing you were with another? Because I couldn't. I want you, and until the day comes where I don't I wouldn't even look at another."

"I love my family," Graces proclaimed, raising her chin. "I will do what is expected of me."

"Right," Neville rasped over the lump in his throat. "Goodnight, Graces."

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"No tutoring Longbottom tonight?" Draco asked, his arm shaking as he tried to hold up the small book wandlessly.

"Not tonight."

Draco looked over at his sister sitting between him and Thomas and had the oddest feeling something was wrong.

"C-Consent-t-trate," Thomas ordered, his book floating with no obvious trembling, while Draco's began dipping lower to the ground.

"How much longer?" Draco snapped, the pain in his arm now becoming unbearable.

"A-as l-l-long as p-p-p-possible."

"Graces, would you like to join?" Draco offered, thinking of how useful it would be if she began actually caring to learn wandless magic.

"No."

Thomas sent a fleeting look over Graces' head to Draco and raised a curious eyebrow. Draco didn't know what was going on with his sister. She had been so happy lately. He had thought she was finally putting all her fears to rest, she was back to engaging happily with those around her. She was doing her school work practically a month ahead of time. She had been singing under her breath whenever she was walking to class. She was even taking particular care with her appearance, but then this morning she had been once again in a foul mood.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked cautiously, allowing the book he was levitating to fall to the ground so he could give her his full attention.

"I'm going to bed."

"Graces," Draco protested, but his sister just raised a silencing hand and headed to the dorms.

"Excuse me, Thomas." Draco was about to stand and hurry after her. It was rare now that he had time to talk to her, and he wasn't going to let her go to bed so upset, not when he was there and could comfort her, but before he even moved off the couch the Slytherin door opened and a ministry owl flew in carrying a black envelope.

The whole common room went silent at the sight of the envelope. A black envelope from the ministry meant only one thing: a family member has died. It was the notification envelope delivered to the patriarch or matriarch of the family so that they could inform the rest of their loved ones of the news.

Draco, Nott, and a few other older Slytherins all stood up from their seats as the owl flew in. It was as though the whole world had slowed down. Someone was dead, and everyone was saying a silent prayer that it wasn't someone in their own family. Draco looked over to Graces who stood alone to the side, rigidly watching the owl, her face as white as a ghost. _Please, don't let it be for me,_ Draco prayed.

Draco began to feel as though his prayers were falling on deaf ears as the owl continued in it's flight towards him. He heard Graces choke out a sob as the bird passed the last other patriarch and Draco tried to keep himself composed even as he heard her wretched breaths. It would do him no favors to mourn publicly. He took a calming breath and held out his hand for the letter. Ready to read whatever horrors it held.

But the owl did not give Draco the letter. Instead it quietly placed the envelope on Thomas's lap.


	42. Chapter 42

_It doesn't make sense,_ Thomas thought, staring down at the black letter. He wasn't the patriarch. There was no reason for him to be holding this letter. It had to be a mistake: an awful error on the Ministry's part. He wouldn't be the receiver of this letter. It was impossible. It was—

"Thomas."

_Why is he staring at me like that?_ Thomas frowned at Draco's pitying gaze and looked around the room. Everyone was staring at him now. _Why are they staring like this? Don't they know this is a mistake._

"Thomas, shall we go somewhere more private?" Draco asked, moving to place a guiding hand on his shoulder.

"N-no."

He watched with curious eyes as Draco nodded, but continued to watch him. Draco had no reason to be watching him like this. Why was he watching him like this? It crossed Thomas' mind that perhaps Draco was falling ill.

"Thomas." He turned to look at Graces who had taken a seat next to him. "Thomas," Graces whispered, running her fingers gently in his hair. "Come, darling. Let us excuse ourselves to read the letter."

"I-it's n-not m-m-mine t-t-to r-read."

Graces nodded and pulled her lips into her mouth for a moment, before gingerly pulling the letter out of his hands.

"Then let's go sort this out privately."

"A-are y-you alr-r-right?" Thomas asked, noticing the way Graces' voice was breaking.

"She's fine," Draco assured, standing and holding out his hand for the letter. "Come, Thomas. Let's go sort this out."

"Wait!" Thomas frowned as Graham started stumbling up to them, tripping over a few chairs as he hurried over. "Open it. Please, open it. Is it Arella? Is it my sister. Is she—"

"Graham, sit down," Draco hissed, moving so Thomas couldn't see.

"Fuck off, Malfoy!" Thomas steadied Draco as he stumbled back front Graham's blow. "It's not your sister that may be dead is it? Open that bloody letter."

"Graham, please," Graces simpered, moving forward between the two boys. "Please, just wait just—"

"No! Is it Arella? Just open it up!"

"Graham, please—"

"NO! I HAVE TO KNOW. I'M NOT GOING TO STAND DOWN HERE WAITING TO HEAR IF MY SISTER AND HER CHILDREN ARE OKAY! OPEN THE DAMN LETTER!"

"Graces, take Thomas to your room, I'll be there shortly," Draco commanded, pushing the letter over to his sister before turning back to the angry boy before him.

"Draco, wh—"

"Now!" Draco bellowed, drawing his wand as Graham looked to grab the letter.

"Come, Thomas," Graces choked.

Thomas knew something was wrong. Graces kept looking down at the letter and she wouldn't let go of his shoulder. And Draco and Graham looked like they were about to enter a duel. Something was wrong.

He and Graces had just passed the middle of the room when the Slytherin door opened again. Two more owls with blackened envelopes headed towards him. Thomas looked up at Graces to see her eyes widen at the site, and he flinched as her fingers began to dig deeper into his skin. She tried to take the letters, but the birds wouldn't allow her to. They ducked and dived around her hands, waiting for him to take them.

Thomas tried to stutter to the birds that it was a mistake, that he wasn't the patriarch, but he stopped at seeing the gold ink etched in the black paper.

_Thomas Alexander Higgs, Patriarch of the Higgs clan_

Slowly he reached out to take the letters. His letters. His letters from the ministry. His black letters from the ministry. He knew this all was making sense somewhere in his brain, but he couldn't piece it all together.

"G-g-graces?"

Five more owls were now approaching, quickly followed by two more, then three. Thomas began backing away from all the talons pushing forth envelopes to him. More and more owls entered. They were fighting amongst one another to get to him. He gasped as he felt a flutter of wings against the back of his head, arms, hands, face. The owls were no longer trying to hand him the letters, they were bombarding him with them. Flinging them down upon him like rain on the Scottish hills. He couldn't even see around him. All he could see was feathers. Feathers and black.

Then something new was coming into the mix. Crows. A murder of crows had descended into the common room. Thomas tried to figure out what was happening, but all he could hear were screams. The whole common room was screaming. Horrified screams filled the air and he couldn't see anything that was happening.

"SHUT THE DAMN DOOR!"

Graces. Graces continued to scream for the door to be shut. At first she sounded so far away, but then there was flashes of green, and one by one the treacherous birds around him were falling. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Graces and Draco killing each bird, but the screaming and crying from around the room was still overwhelming. Thomas drew his wand. Was there a danger? Was an enemy in the room? He looked around and stilled.

Pictures. All around him mixed with the letters from the ministry were pictures. Moving pictures of his family being killed. The crows. The crows were bringing them.

Thomas spun around in place to look at the ones near him: Killisus being cornered in her room by masked men pointing their wands at her before a flash of green came; little Teegan running up the stairs, another masked figure following with a dagger; Arthur shielding his wife and holding his wand out; his mother—

"Don't look," Graces cried, taking his head and hiding it in her bosom. "Don't look. Don't look."

Thomas tried to move away, he could feel the crinkling of paper under his feet as he tried to escape Graces' grasp. He needed to see; he needed to understand.

"G-graces, wh-what. I'm n-not the h-heir. I'm n-not th-the heir."

"Oh, Thomas," Graces choked. "I'm so sorry."

Thomas couldn't breathe. Something inside him was breaking. He hurt. His chest was sinking into him. Something was wrong. He couldn't breathe. His chest. He felt his knees begin to shake, and distantly heard Graces calling for her brother to help her, and then there was no more common room, no more flutter of wings, no more letters, pictures, masked figures, no more screaming and crying. There was just nothing. Blissful nothing.

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Thomas looked so small lying in her bed. Graces was aware that he wasn't any longer, that the boy underneath her soft sheets was now taller than her, but at this moment, in her heart and mind, he was just a boy. She gently brushed her knuckle over his cheek, stifling a sob as she noticed the beginnings of a strong contour in his jaw. In less than a year he would probably look more like a man, but he wasn't one yet.

"Are you finished yet?" she asked hollowly, still staring down at Thomas' sleeping form.

"No." Graces turned to her brother. Draco was sitting at her desk going through each black letter; a long parcel next to him with a list of all living Higgs members. For hours she had heard the steady beat of Draco's quill crossing out names, to the point where she didn't even flinch when a new name was crossed out.

"How many more letters?"

"A lot."

"Draco," Graces pressed.

"What do you want me to say, Graces!" Draco snapped, slamming his quill down. "There's too many to count. It looks like they're all dead. Thomas looks to be the only survivor." Draco grabbed to fistfulls of letters and shook them angrily. "I am going as fast as possible, but there are too many! I've been at this for hours!"

"Then let me do some," Graces suggested, moving away from the bed and to the desk.

"No." Graces glared at her brother as he covered the letters from her. "You take care of Thomas and I will finish the letters."

"You're tired and-"

"Take care of Thomas," Draco repeated evenly. "We all have our duties and you would do better to care for him than read through these."

Graces wanted to argue, but she was too tired. After Thomas had passed out from sheer shock she and Draco had taken over. She and Blaise carried Thomas to her room and, after checking that he was okay, slipped him a sleeping potion so he would not wake until she and Draco had figured out what to tell him. Draco had taken to getting all the envelopes and pictures and, most unfortunately, dueling Graham when the older boy had tried to rip each letter open to find out if his sister was still living.

It wasn't that Graces and Draco didn't understand what kind of pain the waiting was putting him through. They understood all too well, but they couldn't allow for him to rip through each letter desperately to find Arella's name. The other people that had died deserved more than that. Their letters deserved to be opened with the same amount of mournfulness and care.

Three hours later Graham had his answer to whether his sister and her children were alive and it was the answer he had feared the most: they weren't. Graces had delivered the news, not wanting Draco to stop in his work of opening letters and needing to feel useful in some way besides ensuring that Thomas was taken care of. Not to mention Draco and Graham had dueled over the letters, so his presence probably was not going to be welcomed.

She had thought she was ready for such a responsibility. She could be comforting to Graham in his darkest hour, but the moment she had descended the stairs to see the tall boy had been waiting, she realized she wasn't. Graham had not even allowed her to get a single word out before his face twisted and he left to mourn privately. Graces hadn't run after him. There were no comforts that could be had in a time like this.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, when he saw her pulling two vials from her bag.

"I don't want him waking up," Graces whispered hollowly, the numbness in her taking over even her speech. "He should have a few more hours of peace."

She was well aware of her brother's eyes on her as she took the calming drought and sleeping potion and brought them to Thomas's lips and gently rubbed his throat to ensure he swallowed it, but she ignored his stare. She knew what was best for Thomas. He couldn't handle this. If he was awake right then he would go mad: mad from knowing that his family had been slaughtered and mad with anticipation as Draco finished taking a count of who was alive and who was dead. If he were awake he would cling to another family member's name after each letter, hoping that the person he was thinking of was still alive. And Draco would have to demolish that hope with each tear of paper. He just needed to sleep. It was better that he wasn't awake for this part.

_Maybe it would be best if he never woke up. I doubt what lies ahead for him is worth living for._

"Graces?" Draco called, moving towards her as she pressed her hand to her lips to keep from getting sick.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," she promised, moving the covers over and climbing into bed beside Thomas. "I just need to rest."

Draco nodded and his eyes shifted to the vials she had just given Thomas.

"Absolutely not."

"I didn't say anything," Draco protested.

"I know what you are thinking and the answer is no." Graces possessively pulled Thomas closer to her so that he was curled up in her arms. She was determined to be the strong one for once. Someone was always taking care of her and she wasn't going to allow that now. She was going to take care of Thomas. He was her baby now and she refused to be weak when he needed someone strong.

"Graces, pl—"

"Finish the letters, Draco," Graces whispered, closing her eyes and telling herself not to cry. "I have Thomas. Finish the letters."

Somewhere between holding Thomas and the rhythmic sounds of Draco opening a letter and crossing of a name Graces drifted off into sleep. She had no idea how long she had been out, but by the time Draco woke her the whole her the whole castle was silent. She waited for Draco to say something, but the blonde just sat beside her holding the long parcel with miles of names crossed out.

"Draco?"

"They're all dead," he whispered, leaning his head down and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Women, children, elderly, everyone. Dead. As far as I can tell there are only two that we didn't receive letters for: a squib great aunt, and you know it takes longer to be notified of the death of a squib that lives in the muggle world, and his cousin Titus's newborn son Octavian."

"Then they're not all dead. He has an aunt and baby c—"

"What are the odds, Graces?" Draco cut in, his voice heavy with emotion. "Why would the Dark Lord leave him with a squib great aunt and a baby? The ministry owls must have gotten lost or they have not identified or found the bodies. Besides, if the child was alive someone from the Ministry would have come and given him custody."

"The Ministry is most likely overwhelmed," Graces argued, moving so she could sit up in bed, but still hold Thomas. "The child could very well be alive. They just need to sort out who is to have custody, see what the wills say."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up," Draco sighed, burying his face in his palms.

Graces reached to place a hand on her brother, but before she could the dorm door opened and Severus Snape was walking in.

There was an ear-ringing silence as the twins stared at their potions professor. It was the dead of night and now he had come, hours after he was needed. He was never there. Not for them at least. He was always locked up in his office or away doing work for the Dark Lord.

"You knew," Graces whispered, pulling Thomas closer to her. Hatred like a hot iron began to tear her up from the inside."You knew and you did nothing."

She bared her teeth to keep it all in. She wanted to hate him. She wanted to feel every ounce of the hatred she had for him. It was all bubbling up to the surface, she could feel it blazing under her skin. She wanted to scream her hatred for him, scream that she would have rather been dead then be alive because of him.

"It was inevitable," Snape declared slowly. "Neutrality will no longer be tolerated by our Lord, and the Higgs clan was the army protecting the idea of it."

"There were children!" Graces wailed, the phrase alone breaking her chest in. "There was no reason to hurt children. They can't even—"

"It was our Lord's wish. A message needed to be sent."

"We won't let you hurt Thomas," Draco said, moving between the bed and Snape. "If you're here to further the message, you'll have to go through me."

"You Malfoys and your dramatics," Snape sneered. "If Thomas Higgs was meant to killed he would have been killed."

"So he's safe?" Draco questioned slowly. "No harm is going to come to him?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On you two," Snape declared, folding his hands together. "The Dark Lord has agreed to not completely wipe the Higgs clan out if Thomas will bow down to him."

"Take the mark?" Graces whispered horrified. "He's a third year. He's thirteen."

"Do you not wish him to join our Lord's following?" Snape asked his voice leading Graces to believe he was questioning her loyalty.

"She's not saying that," Draco cut in. "She's saying he is too young."

"He is not too young to declare loyalty and as the Patriarch it is his duty," Snape lectured, now moving over to the large pile of black envelopes. "Two family members were spared. A great aunt and a child. Should Thomas not bow down both will be killed along with him. This decision should be very easy for Mr. Higgs."

"His whole family was just slaughtered," Graces murmured, looking down at the boy in her arms. "Do you realize how many loved ones were killed by our lord. Thomas had fourteen brothers and sisters. His father was one out of ten and each of his father's siblings had at least nine children. Thomas' older brother had seven kids already. And the Dark Lord expects him to bow down after the genocide of his family?"

"You have a week to convince him to do so," Snape said heartlessly. "Friday evening I shall take Mr. Higgs to our Lord. I sincerely hope that you two can get him to put aside his anger and do what is best for what is left of his family."

"Wait," Graces called, before Snape left the room. "Thomas was never raised to be a patriarch. He has a lot to do before Friday: funeral arrangements, notifying other family members, and I'm sure he will need to figure out what to do with the child he has acquired." Snape waited for Graces to continue. "I-I think it best for him and the Dark Lord if you allow me and Draco to have the time off from school to help him. He can't do it alone and we both have been raised to handle such situations."

Graces held her breath as Snape seemed to be going over everything she just said. She wondered if he would say no just out of his inability to be compassionate. It wouldn't be a surprise if he allowed Thomas to struggle with his new title and burying his family, after all he hadn't even warned him of what was to come or been here when the owls and crows came, but to Graces and Draco's relief Snape nodded in agreement.

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Nobody ever really prepares you for death. It's something that you just have to find out about through life. Thomas had known what the loss of a loved one was. It was an overpowering ache in your chest, waves of grief that would crash upon you, and what always seemed like endless tears. There wasn't a true way to describe it. You can only list the reactions to it. Loss was something that you had to experience to know. He had had great aunts die, grandparents die, and even a few cousins here and there, but he never had anything like this. This was a whole new kind of loss, a whole new kind of hurt.

He nuzzled in closer to Graces' sleeping form. He didn't want to get up and face this. He didn't think he _could_ face this. He saw the pictures, the letters, the birds, the way everyone was staring at him last night. He hadn't been able to truly allow himself to comprehend then, but now... now he did. His family was gone.

A soft whimper escaped his lips and he felt an arm come around him from behind. Draco. Draco was in the bed sleeping as well. He was sandwiched between both twins as they held him. Thomas held his breath to keep from stirring them more. He listened to their soft breathing and closed his eyes as their breath stirred the hair on his head. Thomas tried to remember if his mother's breath ever did that when he snuck into her and his father's bed. It had been so long since he had done such a thing. He racked his memory, trying vainly to remember such a simple detail only to find he couldn't.

The back of his throat began to ache and he shifted even more into Graces. He wanted to be held tighter. He felt like if he was squeezed closer to her that maybe this feeling in his chest would become more bearable. His mother used to hold him like that when his brothers would hurt his feelings or he became embarrassed by his speech. She would always hold him close to her so tightly he could hear her heart beating in her chest. He could hear Graces' heart thumping rhythmically in her chest now.

He could hear Graces', but he would never hear his mother's heart beat again, because her heart no longer beat. His brothers would never become annoyed with him and his mother would never hold him. They were all gone.

And all of the sudden the pain he was feeling was nothing compared to the torment he was feeling now.

"Thomas!" Graces gasped, waking up from his cries. "Oh darling, it's okay."

He knew that he must have been hurting Graces. His nails were digging into her back and his arms were crushing her small frame, but he couldn't stop. Something was tearing him from the inside out. Memories of his family members flashed before his eyes: Terrence's wedding, his brothers kicking the tar out of a neighbor boy for making fun of him, his sister tickling him, his nephews being born, his niece giggling as he ran her through the ash, his father bragging about his position on the Quidditch team. It hurt so much. It all just hurt so, so much.

Thomas screamed out his agony until his breath gave out, leaving him with only silent wails. They were all gone. He was left with flashes of smiles and laughter that drifted in his head but would never be seen. They were gone, stolen. Someone took them from him. They took their lives, their futures, their possibilities. They murdered his family. His reason for living.

Everything felt so far away. He could feel Draco pounding a hand on his back to get him to take a breath. Graces was crying and murmuring words that he didn't care about, but he didn't feel like he was there. He didn't really want to be there. Each shuddering breath he took tore him from the inside out. He just wanted to slip away from this world. He wanted his mother. He wanted to be held by his mother, not Graces. He wanted his mother.

"I know you do, sweetie," Graces hiccuped. "I know. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Thomas scrambled to get away. He couldn't breathe anymore. He felt as though the twins were suffocating him. Something was around his neck and his skin was tingling with heat. He just needed them to stop touching him, stop talking to him, just—

"G-GET AW-WAY F-FROM ME!"

Graces bit her lip as Thomas ripped himself away from her and Draco and fell to the floor, clutching his chest while he sobbed on his knees. This was the awakening that she had wanted to postpone.

"Th-they're all d-d-dead," Thomas moaned, his forehead falling to the floor as he wailed his sorrows into the ground like a dying animal.

"Not all," Draco said quietly. "Thomas, they're not all dead."

Draco moved to be on the floor and, though Thomas protested, wrapped his arms around his chest from behind. Thomas still had full mobility of his arms, and was trying to move Draco's forearms off his chest, but Draco held tighter.

"You need to get up, Thomas. People are counting on you now. You have—"

"Draco! Not now!"

Draco looked up at her for a moment and Graces shook her head in disapproval.

"You have responsibilities now, Thomas," Draco continued definitely. "Your cousin's newborn son Octavian still lives and so does your great aunt Alethea."

"Draco! These things can wait. He—"

"These things cannot wait," Draco pressed, gritting his teeth and glaring at his sister. "He needs to notify family members, begin funeral arrangements, get a solicitor so he can maintain custody of Octavian, enlist the boy as his heir officially, go through the land he now owns, combine all the new vaults he has acquired, decide what businesses to keep and sell. There is an endless list of things he needs to do and he needs to begin it."

"Get away from him," Graces spat, pushing her brother and jerking Thomas towards her. "This is going to be blasted all through the papers. He doesn't need to inform anyone but the squib. He can spend his morning crying in bed. His world has been destroyed and you're talking of duties."

Draco opened his mouth to argue, but stopped himself at seeing his sister's bared teeth.

"Thomas gets the morning and that is final. Everything else can be discussed later, one thing at a time," Graces added cryptically, letting Draco know that discussions of Thomas' loyalties with the Dark Lord would not be brought up today. Draco nodded grudgingly and said nothing more as his sister picked the sobbing boy off the floor and placed him back in her bed where she continued to hold and stroke his hair. She no longer bothered to try to find words of comfort for a situation that had none.

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For the second day Neville watched Hermione through breakfast. He had never given thought to what the girl had to go through on a daily basis. He imagined this was not the first time Hermione had been forced to bear such cruelty because of someone's ignorance, and, judging by the way she was acting, it didn't even affect her. It wasn't right. No one should be used to that kind of prejudice. Neville loved Graces, it was impossible for him to shut those affections off, but he hated her beliefs and actions.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" Hermione asked surprised, clearly in shock that Neville had decided to speak to her again after him finding out she had talked to Graces.

"May I sit with you?"

Hermione nodded her head and quickly moved her books off the table. It was Sunday so there wasn't really anyone else around them. It appeared that most of Gryffindor house was sleeping, and the Quidditch team had decided to take advantage of the nice weather and practice. Neville sat awkwardly and tried to think about how to talk to the girl in front of him.

"Neville, I-I just, well, I wanted you to know how sorry I am," Hermione started, pulling a piece of her hair around her finger nervously. "I should never have told Malfoy about your feelings and I know that now. I just wanted to protect you and—anyways, I'm just so sorry."

Neville just nodded and picked at a dent in the table. It was hard trying to find the words to talk about Graces when he couldn't tell Hermione everything.

"I-I don't want you to think I'm shallow," Neville began quietly. "I don't like Graces because she's a pretty witch."

Neville looked up shyly to see Hermione's eyes shift in a way that let Neville know that was indeed how she felt about the situation, but she sat patiently for him to expand on this proclamation.

"I-I know she isn't the nicest of girls. She-she has a pretty mean and nasty streak to her. I don't agree with her beliefs about blood status and-and her cruelty to others is..." Neville searched his mind for a word that would fit his feelings. "Sickening."

"But she has other qualities, good qualities in my opinion. It's just unfortunate she was raised with such hateful ignorance."

"What are her good qualities?" Hermione asked, a slight frown between her brows but sincere curiosity showing in her eyes.

Neville shrugged and once again became fascinated with the dent in the table.

"Well," he began clearing his throat and mustering up some Gryffindor courage. "She's really smart, kind of like you. She can go on for hours about a subject she finds interesting which admittedly could potentially be annoying, but well I-I like it when she goes on her little tangents because her eyes light up and she moves her hands really enthusiastically and, well, she's no longer that cold, pinched-lipped girl we see in the halls."

Hermione didn't seem at all impressed by such a detail so Neville continued, wanting badly for his friend to understand.

"And she tutors younger years, which I think is nice. She's patient and doesn't mind finding different ways to explain things to me when I don't understand a subject. And she loves chocolate," Neville laughed thinking of Graces' ridiculous sweet tooth. "I mean she really loves chocolate. If you pay attention to her she always sneaks a sweet in her mouth after History of Magic. It's like clockwork. She leaves the classroom, digs in her bag, and pops a sweet in her mouth. It-it's just so endearing. I don't know. It's silly, but I love that she does that."

"And I know you'll never see this side to her, but she is truly a kind and generous person. Maybe not to us, but I've seen the way she interacts with others. She cares about people deeply and does her best to protect those around her. In the halls she's always snapping her fingers at first years to behave, but-but she also is holding them in corners when they're homesick. And-and multiple times when she's been tutoring me I've caught her writing letters to their parents telling them how they are doing."

"She's just a very different person in private and once in a while she lets me see that person...I'm not saying you're wrong to dislike her. There are plenty of reasons for you to dislike her. And trust me there are days I wish I didn't feel the way I did about her, but I can't help it. I've seen those things about her and now..."

"Okay," Hermione clipped.

"That's it, just okay?" Neville pressed, knowing okay said like that didn't mean anything good.

"I don't know what you want me to say. I certainly don't approve and you obviously have already made up your mind, so what am I supposed to say?"

"I don't need you to approve, Hermione," Neville said quietly. "I need you to respect my feelings and not intrude on my privacy. I know she and her brother both have done wrong by you. I don't expect you to ever like her, but—"

"So how she treats people doesn't matter to you?" Hermione surmised angrily.

"No. No, of course it does. I hate how she treats people. But Hermione, she doesn't know better. She was raised by Lucius Malfoy. What can you expect? I'm-I'm not saying it's an excuse, but it's—"

"She is not a good person, Neville," Hermione stressed, leaning forward. "I'm sure you're right that she does have good qualities, but we are not the kind of people she is going to give those good qualities to. She's dangerous to us, Neville."

"I'll make sure to keep that in mind..."

Neville hated the way Hermione was staring at him: like she sympathized and was infuriated with him all at once. He wanted for them to be friends again. He didn't want them to be so distant, but at the same time he wasn't willing to fold on what he was feeling for Graces. If you love someone you shouldn't be ashamed of it. He wasn't ashamed to love Graces. He knew her, Hermione didn't.

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, neither of them able to think of a way beyond this. Neville looked over at the bare Slytherin table and frowned at how no one had come down for breakfast. The owls arrived with the post and at least twenty left with the papers, letters and packages still in talons. Neville frowned but took his own paper, wondering if there was another holiday or something he didn't know of. Then as he took his own paper in hand he saw it.

**"Higgs Clan Slaughtered in the Night"**


	43. Chapter 43

"Neville." Neville looked up from the door of the greenhouse to see Professor Sprout standing beside him. "It appears that you won't be having a partner for this week. I was thinking you could work with Miss Granger and Miss Abbott until Miss Malfoy returns."

"H-Have you spoken to her?" Neville asked hopefully. Not having any idea what was going on with Graces.

"No, I spoke with her head of house," Professor Sprout explained somberly. "It appears her family was very close with the Higgs and she will be helping with the funeral arrangements. She won't be returning until next Monday."

Neville nodded his head and turned towards his desk, no longer bothering to watch the door if Graces was not going to be appearing.

"It's such a tragedy. I can't imagine how Thomas Higgs is taking the news," Professor Spout sniffed, dabbing her eyes with an old handkerchief.

Neville placed a gentle hand on the Hufflepuff's shoulder as she began to cry a bit more freely.

"I always knew Terence would marry Arella," she continued, after blowing her nose loudly. "He was always pestering her in class first and second year. He would hex her hair loose from her braid, push her chair when passing, blow on her neck when she was pruning, all kinds of silly things young boys tend to do when they want attention."

"He just adored her. I was so thankful when he grew out of his childish ways and began behaving properly. I hated giving him so many detentions for being a nuisance. Most of the time I just ignored it, but I can't ignore such behavior all the time. Anyways, he asked her out in my class. It was the most adorable thing. They were especially young, I think just 4th years, and they were standing right over there working on some project when Terence asked."

Professor Sprout began crying harder and Neville moved his hand so that it was wrapped around her rather than just lying against her.

"He was so n-nervous. It was so unlike him. He's such a cocky thing, b-but he was nervous," Professor Sprout blubbered. "I remember it like it was yesterday. I don't even need a pensive to remember it. It took him half the class to tell her he liked her. He would start and stop. Start and stop. The whole time I could tell Miss Graham knew too. She kept trying not to smile. It was amusing to watch. I knew she liked him; it was obvious, but she let him fumble. I think she rather enjoyed how unnerved he became. Anyways, he finally told her he liked her and Miss Graham, the little tease, just smiled and said 'I know.'"

"Well, Terence had no idea how to respond to that, so he said nothing for the rest of class. I was beginning to wonder if he was going to say anything else, and then at the end as she was leaving he called out after her and started sputtering out how he wanted to formally court her." Neville tensed as his Professor turned and began crying into his cloak. "I c-can't b-believe they're both gone."

Neville just continued awkwardly holding his Professor while at the same time trying to figure out if he should say something.

"Professor Sprout."

"Miss Malfoy," Professor Sprout rasped, quickly trying to dry her eyes as she turned towards the clearly worn girl in front of her. "I didn't expect you to be here. Professor Snape said that you wouldn't be back till Monday."

"I just wanted to drop off Thomas' and my work," Graces said quietly, handing over a stack of papers.

"How are you doing?" Professor Sprout asked, placing a kind hand on Graces shoulders. "Have you slept at all? You look—"

"I need to go," Graces cut in, already turning around to leave.

Neville watched as Graces weaved in and out of the entering students and disappeared through the greenhouse door. He hadn't said a word to her. People she loved had died and he hadn't said a thing. He quickly dashed out of the greenhouse after her, not caring what anyone thought.

"Graces! Graces! Wait."

Graces was almost to the castle doors when she heard him and to Neville's great relief the blonde stopped.

"What are you doing?" she asked angrily, looking around to make sure no one had saw. "You can't go running after me. The class was entering; they saw you—"

"Are you okay?" Neville panted, not caring at all what other people were thinking.

"I'm fine."

It was a lie. Neville knew there was no way Graces was fine. No one could be. He himself kept thinking about how the child he had held was killed. He could only imagine what Graces was feeling.

"Graces," Neville whispered, moving to take her hand.

"We're in public, Longbottom," Graces chastised, moving away. "I-I can't do this right now. I have to go."

"Wait, don't go. I—"

"Thomas needs me. _He needs me_ ," Graces stressed, wiping her eyes angrily. "He doesn't have an inkling as to what to do. I need to call florists, talk to a solicitor, set up a hearing for custody, pick up a child that I have no idea what to do with and find a squib. I don't have time to stand here with you when he needs me."

"I-I just wanted to say I was sorry," Neville began cautiously. "And that if you need anything—anything at all—or Thomas needs anything for that matter, don't hesitate to owl."

Graces stared at him for a long time, both of them letting the cold November breeze flick their hair this way and that while it chilled their bones.

"Is your grandmother still on the board for child welfare?"

"She is."

"I want her vote," Graces whispered. "I want her to vote to give Thomas custody of Octavian over Octavian's maternal grandparents."

"Thomas is only—"

"I am well aware of his age, but Octavian is his heir. He needs to be raised as a Higgs."

"Thomas is going to be here at school for years more," Neville pointed out, now starting to realize anything at all may be a problem. "Who would raise Octavian?"

"He has a living squib great aunt; she can raise the child while Thomas is away. We're going to find her today and tell her of the news."

"Graces," Neville murmured, "she may not want to leave her life in the muggle world to raise a child."

"She doesn't have an option," Graces said coolly. Neville frowned and opened his mouth to ask what that was supposed to mean. "If you didn't mean anything, then you shouldn't have said anything, Longbottom," Graces snarled, turning in a huff to leave.

"Graces, please, this can't be the best interest of the child," Neville argued, following her into the castle.

"Fuck off, Longbottom."

"Graces, you have to give me more of a solid plan. I can't just agree to affect some child's life without something more solid. Talk to me. Tell me a sure plan and I will."

"I don't have one! I need to get an answer now, Longbottom. Octavian is all Thomas has, doesn't that matter to you?"

"Octavian is a baby; he needs more than a thirteen/fourteen year old boy has to offer. If his great aunt doesn't agree then—"

"If I give you a solid plan, a good plan, you will give us the vote?" Graces asked, turning around and staring up at him. "Do you swear?"

"I'll _try_ to, but it doesn't sound like you have a plan yet."

"If the aunt doesn't agree, I'm dropping out and I'll tend to the child while Thomas is in school."

"Graces, you—"

"That's the plan, Longbottom. I'm of age in the summer and my mother can help me until then, so talk to your gran."

Neville stood there shocked as Graces continued to stomp away from him.

"You can't!" Neville shouted, grabbing the blonde's arm to stop her. "You will never be a healer if you drop out, Graces. You—"

"I am not going to allow Thomas to lose the only family he has left. I can put my life on hold for awhile to—"

"Draco would never allow it," Neville broke in, anger already bubbling from the thought.

"Do not pretend to be familiar with my brother," Graces said, ripping her arm away.

Neville clenched his fists together and bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming. This was insane. Neither of them, Graces nor Thomas, was equipped to have a child. It would be better for the baby to be with its other grandparents who know and love it.

"Get the squib, Graces," Neville demanded. "I'll give you my gran's influence, but you will get the squib. Don't think for one second I will have her approve anything else. It's the squib or another qualified _adult_. Not you."

"I'm sixteen," Graces argued. "I am perfectly capable of—"

"The fact that we are having this discussion proves you are not. You decided that you could take care of another human life in a matter of seconds, Graces. Seconds! A child is a great responsibility. It's not something you decide to have on a whim. You need an education; you need to grow up."

"I—"

"And you know what else," Neville continued. "Your family is not in a position to be offering anyone protection. You said it yourself. Don't go dragging a baby into that, Graces. I know you love Thomas. I get that. He's a kind boy and his situation is fucked, but I'm not going to just okay whatever you want for him. Get the squib. I can get on board with that plan."

"And if I can't?" Graces asked, over the lump in her throat. "If she refuses?"

"Be thankful Octavian has two loving grandparents that want to raise him," Neville advised sternly.

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"Mr. Longbottom!" McGonagall exclaimed, opening her office door to see Neville Longbottom standing before it. "What are you doing here? You have Herbology."

Neville blushed, but kept his posture before requesting the use of her fire.

"Now? What could possibly be so important that you need to use it now? Why don't you owl your gran _during your free time_ and—"

"It's patriarch business," Neville interrupted importantly. "It can't wait. I need to talk to her now."

The older Gryffindor glared down at her pupil. She was well aware of what being a patriarch to a family meant, but she did not approve of anyone skipping class.

"You can come back later, Mr. Longbottom," she instructed coldly. "Now, if you would—"

"I have to do it now. You can take away points or give me detention, but I need to speak with my gran right now."

McGonagall frowned but stepped aside, moving to sit at her desk as Neville bustled into her office and kneeled at the fire. He hesitated as though he expected her to leave, but she gave the younger boy a look that told him asking would be a grave mistake on his part. She sat quietly as Neville stuck his head in the fire and called out to his gran.

"Neville," Augusta exclaimed. "What are you doing calling like this? Don't you have class? Is that Minerva's office? Why would-"

"Gran, I need to talk to you about something."

McGonagall subtly leaned on her desk so she could hear more clearly and scolded herself for wishing she had kept some of the Weasley twins' experiments such as extendable earlobes.

"I, uh, have you heard about the Higgs clan?"

Minerva frowned at the question and could only imagine that Augusta found it just as strange considering she had yet to answer.

"Yes, Neville, I've heard," Augusta said slowly. "Are you worried? Because I have to say, I expected better from you since the Ministry. You are the head of our house now and you can't go firecalling me when you're frightened and—"

"I'm not calling you because I am frightened," Neville blushed. " I am calling you to ask what stance you will take in the ministry regarding Octavian Higgs' custody."

"That has not even been brought before the board," the older woman said, clearly shocked at her grandson's interest.

"It's going to be," Neville said quietly. "You know it will be."

"We aren't supposed to take an interest in a case before it reaches our level," Augusta reminded. "But should it reach us I planned to vote for the Macmillans to receive custody."

"I thought as much," Neville sighed, clearly disappointed with his grandmother's choice. "Gran, I- I, uh, I want you to give your full support to allowing Thomas Higgs to maintain custody."

"Absolutely not," Augusta snapped, to the professor's great relief. "I have been friends with Audrey and Alvin Macmillan for decades. They are good people and they would do fine job at raising their grandchild. I will not take the last remembrance of their daughter away."

"Heirs should be raised within the family they will be growing to lead. It's important that Octavian stay within the Higgs clan. If he is raised by the Macmillans they will raise him with their customs and beliefs. Something that isn't app—"

"Thomas Higgs is a child. He's younger than you even. He is in school for most of the year as well. This would not be in the best interest of the child, Neville. No."

"He has a great aunt that will raise him while Thomas is in school," Neville countered. "Also, I believe the will specified that the child be left to the Higgs patriarch. This is the parents' wishes."

"Neville, they would have never dreamed that anything like this could have happened."

"They did dream that their child would continue to be raised within the Higgs family with their customs and values. it would be a disgrace to their memory to not allow their last wishes."

"The Macmillans can offer a more stable home."

Minerva could hear the older woman losing her patience and wondered how much longer she would have to wait before she began yelling at Neville. She certainly wasted no time in sending howlers; it wouldn't be surprising for her to put away her restraint now.

"They're old."

"Neville!"

"They are," Nevile cast out. "Children should have someone young. By the time Thomas is finished with Hogwarts the child will be full of life and Thomas Higgs will be young enough to accommodate that. Octavian deserves someone who can run around chasing him, take him to quidditch matches, fly him around on a broom. It will be hard at first, but I see no reason not to allow him custody, especially with an older Aunt who can help."

"You were raised by your grandparents," Augusta pointed out dangerously. "And I feel we did a fine job of raising you."

McGonagall watched as Neville stilled. She wished she could see his face, but she also didn't want to interrupt such a private moment by moving.

"I know I was," Neville murmured quietly. "I-I'm not saying you did a bad job. Or-or that I'm unhappy," Neville began slowly. "I love you. And I love Uncle Algie... and I loved my grandfather, but-but I wished I had someone younger raising me. Someone more... I don't know... Just more... Octavian could have that.. Give your support to Thomas, provided his aunt is willing to help. There isn't a reason not to give him your support if the will specifies the patriarch and there is an adult willing to help. Give Octavian a childhood. Don't dismantle the Higgs family because they're a bit broken."

"You wanted me to take up the position of head of the family because you felt I was able to lead. to make decisions that would affect families in a positive way. Well, I'm telling you the decision I want made. Tomorrow with your decision you will tell me if you really believe I can lead."

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Thomas focused on the clock ticking on the wall. Tick. Tick. Tick. All around him were angry cries of outrage: sometimes from the Macmillans, sometimes from the Malfoys and sometimes from the overpaid barristers. He didn't care, though. He just listened to the clock on the wall and wished he was a seer so he would know when this would all end.

"The will clearly states that the child would be left in the custody of the Higgs patriarch!"

"There was no way that Titus and Clara could have guessed that Terence and everyone else would be murdered, leaving their son with a child!"

"There was no stipulation made in your daughter's or her husband's will. It just says the patriarch."

_Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick._ Thomas concentrated on blurring out the sounds of the Macmillans and his barrister. He didn't want to really listen to what either had to say. If he listened to the Macmillans it just sounded like they were crying. If he listened to the barristers it just sounded like they were yelling. He liked the clock, though.

_I wonder why everyone says tick tock. The clock doesn't tick tock, it just ticks. No, more like a tst, tst, sound. Maybe other clocks have more of a tock to their sound..._

"Thomas?" For the first time in hours Thomas looked away from the middle of the room and back to Graces."This is being moved to family court, now. The judge feels there needs to be an evaluation of the homes, that the Mcmillans are right in feeling that their grandson would be ill-placed with a child regardless of the will."

Thomas nodded his head and continued to look forward at the clock.

"Thomas," Graces continued hesitantly. "I know I told you not to speak during anything, but you need to look interested. If you don't it could be seen as though you don't care."

"D-do I c-care?"

"Yes, you do," Draco said lowly, bending down. "Thomas, I know this is hard, but you need to snap out of it. Mess this up and you won't have Octavian. You can either graduate Hogwarts alone with no one to go home to, or graduate with a son."

"H-he's n-not my son. H-he's T-t-titus' son. H-he's T-t-itus' a-and C-clara's son. Th-they've b-been t-t-t-trying f-for t-t-two y-years to have a b-b-baby. D-did you kn-know th-that? T-t-two y-years. We w-w-were all w-w-worried th-that m-m-maybe... Well, it j-just w-wasn't the r-r-right t-t-time b-b-before. Th-that's wh-what my m-m-mum s-said. It j-j-just w-w-wasn't th-the r-r-right t-t-time Th-the g-g-gods w-w-ould b-bless th-them ev-v-vent-tually and th-they d-did. He's n-not m-my s-son."

"Thomas. Thomas, look at me." Thomas grimaced as Draco forcefully took his chin and made him stare into his quicksilver eyes. "Titus and Clara are dead."

"Draco!"

"Don't you 'Draco' me, Graces. Your way isn't working. He needs to snap out of it and be a man."

"That does not mean you need to—"

"Graces, shut up," Draco snarled, turning back to Thomas. "They're dead. Titus was stabbed and I don't even want to remember what happened to Clara, but the point of the matter is they are dead. You have no one but that infant. I get you are hurting, but damn it Thomas you only get one chance. You need to wake up and start fighting or they are going to take away the last family member you have. Octavian is less than a month old. _Less than a month._ If you gain custody it will be all he knows. You will be the father. You need to fight here."

"H-how?" Thomas choked. "H-how?"

"We need to find your aunt, Thomas. And we need to find her yesterday."

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"I can pick up dinner tonight. No, really, it's fine. Are you okay with Chinese? Well, I can pick it up from that place across from campus that you like. It's right on my way anyways, John. It's not... hold on. I'm sorry my office hours are over. If you'll come back in the—"

"A-aunt A-l-leth-thea?"

"Oh my god... um, honey? I, uh, I can't pick up dinner after all. I'm so sorry, I-I have to go." Alethea quickly slammed the phone down and stared at the three teenagers in her office. There was no doubt about it. They were magical. Everything about the way they were acting told her so: the way they sneered at her humble office, eyes trailing to devices they were curious about, but would never humble themselves to ask about; the way their hands fell in a way that told her they were ready to reach for their wands. _I am 57. I have a masters, two doctorates, endless publications. Being around magical people, especially teenagers, should not make me feel inferior._

"Oh, Christ, let me guess, uh... you're Demetri's children, right? Olivia, Braden, and Oliver?"

All three children before her said nothing, just continued to stare at her as she looked them over. The older woman blushed and nervously began fiddling with a pen on her desk. It wasn't like she lived in that world any longer. She had left decades ago. Sure, she still received the birth announcements and attended certain family engagements here and there, but they couldn't honestly remember her to know every name.

"Olivia, Braden, Oliver, and Demetri are dead," the taller boy murmured.

"What?"

"They were killed a few nights ago along with the rest of your family. The only survivors are you, Thomas—" Aleathea's eyes trailed to the younger boy the blonde was gesturing to. "—and a newborn infant, Octavian."

"Th-that's just not possible. My family is... massive. We span all seven continents. We make up a huge percentage of the wizard population. What you're suggesting is—"

"A massacre," the blonde girl whispered, creating a deafening silence from the word.

"Does this... does this have something to do with the war? With You-Know-Who?" The older boy nodded. Alethea desperately tried to remember what her family was doing. For years she had tried to ignore the wizarding world and lead a comfortable life in the muggle one. She knew about the war, of course, and was always written to by various family members, but she didn't actually know everything that was going on. What she did know was that the family was neutral and staying out of it. "I thought we were staying out of this war," she breathed.

"Neutrality will no longer be tolerated by the Dark Lord," the older boy continued.

_Dark Lord..._ "Who are you?"

The familiar distaste often wielded by high brow pureblood families crept over the older boy's face. It was clear that he expected her to know who he was, as did the blonde girl next to him, but Alethea was never one to keep up on who was whom. There was no point. She didn't live there.

"I'm Draco Malfoy and this is my sister Graces Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" Alethea clenched her pen tighter. Malfoy was definitely not a safe family for her to be around. Nor was it a safe family for anyone in the muggle world to be around.

"We're here to help," Graces sighed. "Don't get all panicky."

"Help how?"

"Shall we go to your home? There is much to discuss and it would be better if—"

"No. No, here is fine."

Alethea looked away as Graces scowled at her.

"Your family has been slaughtered and your nephew here and a baby is left. We need to discuss things. Funeral arrangements and custody arrangements being the top two. Those alone will take hours. We should be somewhere quiet, comfortable, _secluded_ away from muggles."

"Well, you see the problem with that is," Alethea swallowed and tried to look as dignified as possible, "if we were to go to my home we would not be escaping muggles. I live with a muggle."

"You're—" Graces stopped and seemed to visibly be swallowing her disgust "—you're not married to a muggle are you?"

"N-no sh-she's n-not," Thomas proclaimed, horrified. "W-we w-would n-n-never allow th-that."

"Thomas, no one here thinks that your family would have approved such a thing, but we know that sometimes it happens when squibs live in this world. No one thinks less of—"

"I-it d-d-didn't h-happen!" Thomas shouted, becoming visibly upset. "T-Tell th-them," he commanded. "T-tell them y-you're n-n-not m-m-married."

"I'm not married," Alethea said, bitterness bubbling up in her words. "I was forced to make an unbreakable vow to never marry a muggle before I left the wizarding world. Not to mentioned I was cursed to never be able to bear children."

"S-see, w-we're p-pure."

"Pure as snow," Alethea repeated hollowly.

She sat still as the small boy stared at her. This was her new patriarch if they were all dead. He was now the one in charge of the family. It was such a stupid tradition. This boy, this _child_ , was now the one that had all the ability to make decisions.

"Y-you w-w-were g-g-given o-other options."

"Marry a squib or a below average wizard; those really aren't options."

"No one is preventing you from having your muggle," Graces shrugged. "You get to have whatever you want in your bed. Precautions were just taken to ensure you didn't go dragging it into the family. I think that is perfectly understandable."

"You're not the one being told you can't marry the man you love," Alethea spat angrily. For a moment she thought she saw something almost empathetic flash across the girl's face, but it didn't last long and instead the younger girl just went on with the usual pure-blood explanations about honor, tradition and all the rest of that preposterous prejudice she wished to be away from.

"And it's not like your family even cast you out for wanting to live with muggles. Terence's father paid for you to have a muggle education and for your living expenses as you went to school. If you were a part of my family we would have—"

"Killed me," Alethea finished. "Killed me for wanting to live in a world where I wasn't looked down upon: a world where I wasn't handicapped. You would have killed me for wanting a life worth living."

"You should count yourself fortunate that you were born a Higgs," Draco said darkly, his silver eyes pinning her to her chair. "Be grateful you came from a family that doesn't believe in honor killings."

"I'd rather have died than stay in the wizarding world, forced to be on the same level as a house elf."

"I hope that's not true," Graces broke in, walking over to her desk. "Because that is now your option."

"What do you mean?"

"Y-yeah, wh-what d-d-do y-you m-mean?"

"We have a lot to discuss," Draco sighed, moving to sit down on an old worn couch. "Since we won't be going to your home, I suggest everyone try to get comfortable."

Draco tried to think of what he should talk about first. There was an endless list of things to speak of. He knew Graces wanted to wait to discuss the Dark Lord with Thomas, but something told him that waiting was not the thing to do. Blindsiding Thomas with such news could only lead to more issues.

"Neutrality is no longer an option, Thomas," Draco began quietly. "Your family is being made the example it appears. The reason you three were left living was so that the Dark Lord could make the Higgs clan bow before him. It wasn't enough to just kill you; he needs to crush the idea of you. No more toeing the line. Friday after the funerals Professor Snape is going to take you to the Dark Lord." Draco didn't know how to say this next part. It was awful just in his mouth, putting it out though... "Where you will be expected to bow before him, declaring your allegiance as well as your family."

"N-No."

"Thomas," Graces pleaded.

"No!" Thomas shouted, anger bringing him to his feet. "I w-won't. H-he k-k-killed m-my f-f-family. No."

"Thomas," Draco began slowly, "Do you understand what not bowing down means? He will kill you. He will kill you, Octavian and your aunt. You will all be killed."

"I d-d-don't c-care. I c-can't b-bow t-to h-him. T-Terence and m-my f-father d-didn't. Th-they insist-ted w-we t-take a s-stand."

Draco sat silently for a few moments looking over the young boy before him. Thomas was justified in his anger and noble in his thoughts, but dying for a belief with no way to ensure that your death was meaningful was in Draco's opinion a stupid decision.

"I need a moment alone with Thomas," Draco requested, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

To his great relief Graces and the squib didn't argue and just nodded quietly and left.

"Terence was an idiot: an idiot whose mistake cost his wife and children their lives, an idiot that let a miscalculation of an enemy slaughter his family."

"HE W-WAS N-N-NOT AN I-ID—"

Draco felt a surge of anger and before Thomas could finish his childish sentence he slammed the younger boy against the wall, his fist clutching his collar and lifting him up.

"We do not have time for this," Draco growled, shaking Thomas to ensure he was listening. "You have to grow up, Thomas, and you have to do it now. Right now! You do not get to throw childish fits and scream out your hatred. You have to do what is best for the other two lives you are responsible for. You will not let them die. Do you hear me? Octavian doesn't deserve to die because you couldn't put away your damn pride. His life should not be snuffed out before it even begins."

"S-Ss I-I'm j-just s-s-supposed t-to b-bow d-down t-to a m-m-monster th-that k-kills w-w-women and ch-children? S-sell m-my s-soul?"

"You exchange your soul," Draco said lowly. "Your soul for his. That's what being a patriarch is about. You do what is best for the family. What is best for yourself will always be last." Draco ignored the hot tears that were spilling out of Thomas' eyes. It had to be said it had to be done. Thomas needed to understand. "Terence was a good man, but he was a fool to defy such a powerful wizard and now he and his family are gone. Thomas, do not be a fool. Do not indirectly murder the family you have left."

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"You can't honestly think it is in his best interest to join and become a Death Eater, do you?" Alethea asked, waiting outside in the dark hall with Graces.

"He has no choice."

"We always have a choice. Always." Graces' stormy eyes glanced to the side at her for a moment before schooling themselves back onto the door. "If people took a stand and—"

"Like your family? They took a stand and now they're dead. You will be too if Thomas chooses not to join."

"Some things are worth dying for."

"I doubt Clarence felt that way," Graces whispered. Alethea watched as the blonde seemed to be wrestling with some emotion.

"Which one was Clarence?"

"Terence's first son. He was four." Alethea looked away as Graces choked on her own words. She knew she should be feeling something more for her family members, but she couldn't find much in her to feel. She was sad they were gone and sickened by what was done to them, but she didn't know them. "It's already so late," Graces whispered. "We should map out a plan for the funerals while the house elves move you into the mansion. Then tomorrow we can—"

"I'm not moving," Alethea said in surprise.

"You are. Thomas cannot have custody of Octavian without an adult. He will be in school most of the year, not to mention he is too young to care for a newborn alone."

"That does not mean that I should assume that responsibility. I long ago left the notions that my duty in life was to raise pureblood children. I have a life here. I have work, a boyfriend, research—"

What is wrong with you?" Graces asked in disgust. "Thomas is your family. Octavian is your family. You have obligations to your family."

"I don't even know the boy," Alethea murmured, folding her arms. "I-I can't. I—"

"You do not have an option. Thomas is your family's patriarch and—"

"I do have an option," Althea hissed. "I am a grown woman, a professor. And I do not have to live by any of these old Jane Austen era societal rules! If I say no, then that's final. I don't need some child telling me what to do with my life."

"I can't believe this. What is wrong with you? Your family needs you. Thomas needs you. When has any of them ever needed you. This is the first time in your life you have been asked to help them, to sacrifice for them, and you can't even—"

"The first time? Are you serious? I was made barren for them! I had to decline a marriage proposal for them! I've been with John for over thirty years and I have had to lie to him everyday for them: I don't believe in marriage; I have no family; really, _I don't want children_. Do you have any idea what kind of strain was put on our relationship because of them? Any idea? I have sacrificed well beyond enough for my family. I almost lost the love of my life because I refused to give him children. He said he could live with not being married, but he couldn't live with not being a father." Graces looked away as the older woman wiped away her tears. "I had to lie to him again, pretend to give in and try. We tried for years to have a baby, threw away thousands on tests and other treatments until finally a doctor just told him he didn't understand why we weren't getting pregnant and that it appeared I just was unable to carry a child. Don't you dare talk to me about sacrifice. I sacrificed."

"Your family sacrificed too," Graces reminded tightly. "They never cast you out. They were aware of your personal life and they never disowned you or killed you to protect their honor. They used their numbers to protect their name, so you could have a life you wanted. They were a fort of good marriages, pureblood children, and ancient tradition shielding the world from seeing you. They did all but become blood traitors for you. Not many pureblood families would have done that. Our squibs are quietly married off into other pureblood families. Your family tried to make you happy."

"It wasn't right."

"Not everything is right and wrong," Graces whispered. "Love shouldn't hurt your family. The love you have with that muggle would have destroyed them. They loved you enough to not allow you to make a mistake that they would be forced to kill you for. You have your muggle and they had the respect they needed to thrive in wizarding society. If you had married that muggle they wouldn't have been able to marry into certain families, alliances would have ended and businesses would have went under."

"You don't understand," Alethea said sadly. "You can't. You were raised with one way of thinking, Miss Malfoy, never allowed to even glimpse into another way of thought. It's like there is a wall and you can only look through a small hole. My wall was torn down. I see so much more."

Graces didn't understand what it was that the stern looking woman was trying to say to her. She stood there for a few moments trying to decipher what she was referring to, but before she could think on it further the door to the office opened and Draco had Thomas standing beside him with defeated tears rolling down from his eyes.

"No matter what you have sacrificed," Graces breathed. "It will not ever compare to what he is about to. He needs you. You two are family and he needs you."

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"Did you sleep at all last night?" Graces asked over her cup of morning tea. Alethea ignored the young girl and just continued to push her food around on her plate. "You didn't honestly expect for your muggle to take the news well did you? When have they ever been okay with our kind? You should have just left in the dead of night like we suggested."

"It was the lying that upset him," Alethea murmured. "Not where I came from."

"Keep telling yourself that," Graces scoffed, taking a long sip of her tea.

The older woman did her best not to cry. It did no good to cry anymore or to try to explain to a child the reaction John had had at her revealing. She couldn't believe she was back in this world. She felt as though she were caught in a riptide, there was no way to struggle against this. She just needed to swim parallel until it passed. It was help raise this child or be killed. If Thomas had no heir, no family, they would be useless. It made no statement to have just one singular boy bow before he-who-must-not-be-named. Thomas was nothing without a family, alliances... a future. Octavian was the insurance. In a future without him they were already dead.

She eyed Thomas as he nibbled on some toast and wondered what he was thinking or feeling about all this. She now felt responsible for the small boy. She tried to remember whose son he was and couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed that she couldn't.

"Will Thomas be in my custody as well?" she asked, unsure of how she felt about that thought.

"No, Thomas is now emancipated. Draco filled out all of the paperwork. It's done."

"So, I will have custody only of the child?"

"Limited custody," Draco murmured, lifting up a piece of parchment and squinting his eyes as he read. "Thomas still is the full legal guardian. You are only there to act in his absence. Our solicitor will be working to also get Thomas to have a weekend pass from school to be with the child regularly."

"So I'm just a babysitter?"

Draco looked up from the parchment he was reading for a moment, before dismissing her remark and continuing on with whatever he was reading. Althea huffed out her irritation before standing to dress for the board.

"Graces will be up to glamour you in a few minutes," Draco drawled. "You look awful. I don't want the board seeing you all puffy-eyed and tired. It would not do well for your stability to be questioned."

Twenty minutes later they all were dressed and walking through the ministry. She felt odd walking through the Ministry in full wizarding formalwear, like she was an imposter trying to make herself fit in. She wasn't a witch, therefore why should she wear robes that spoke of magic? If she had just come in her own dress suit she would have felt more at ease.

She looked over to Thomas who was dressed in matching robes: white and red, their family's colors and crests decorated finely into the material. They were kin. They looked like kin, but she didn't feel any kinship towards the boy walking beside her. He hardly spoke at all; Graces and Draco seemed to be in charge of everything. She wondered if she should say something to him. He had, after all, lost his whole family and was now about to receive custody of a child. Surely this was a time that called for some words of comfort, but she couldn't think of what to say. She didn't even know how he was feeling about it all. They were family, but they were also strangers.

"Thomas," she started hesitantly. "Are-are you ready for this? To be in charge of a child? Octavian will be your child and mine in a way as well. Are you ready for this?"

"He doesn't speak in public," Graces whispered, as they entered the elevator. "People don't know about his speech impediment. We've done our best to give him this quiet, forbidding look. Only his current house knows and his family. In court let the barristers speak and only them. It will look out of place if you speak and Thomas does not."

"We're here," Draco announced as the elevator doors opened.

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_Meet me in the barn._

_G.M_

Neville frowned at the tiny letter. He hadn't been expecting Graces to want to meet him and now wondered if his gran had not done as he asked and voted against Thomas obtaining custody, or if Graces wasn't able to get the squib. Quietly he threw on his night robe and snuck out of the Gryffindor tower and to the barn. With each step he seemed to come up with another thing that could have gone wrong at the trial. He had overheard Ernie talking to Hannah at in the halls and it seemed that the young boy was certain his grandparents were going to receive custody. Apparently, they had gone as far as to already have a nursery put in. With heavy anticipation he entered the barn.

Before he even had a moment to look around he had the wind knocked out of him and Graces Malfoy wrapped around his middle embracing him.

"We won," she whispered, her nose still buried into his night robe. "Thomas received custody over Octavian. He's going to be okay. I-I can't begin to thank you. Your gran's opening statement was perfect, brilliant even. Thank you."

"What did she say?" Neville asked hollowly, thinking of his gran's angry face in the hearth.

"She said 'I do not understand why we are all gathered here when the will specified for the child to be given to the Higgs patriarch and there is a living adult willing to take up the burden to help raise the child.' After that statement no one could really argue against them. The Macmillans tried, of course, saying a squib was not suitable, but then your gran cut them off and asked if we should be taking away muggleborn witches and wizards from their home."

Neville closed his eyes and inwardly groaned. His gran had lost some very dear friends today over this, he was sure. He wondered if she had lost them in vain, if it was a mistake.

"How is Thomas handling the verdict?"

"He's handling it. We arranged for him to be able to leave on the weekends to be at home with the child. He-he needs to grow a fondness for the boy, but I'm sure it will come with time. Things will be easier after the funeral friday. Rest for the dead means breath for the living."

Neville nodded sadly and continued to hold Graces as she squeezed his middle.

"Is-is there something you needed?"

"I just needed this," she whispered, letting out a long breath.

"This?"

Graces looked up with her watery eyes and then to his arms that were wrapped around her.

"Oh," Neville breathed surprised.

"Is that okay?" Graces asked nervously, moving to take a step away from him.

"More than okay," Neville promised, kissing her softly. "How are you holding up?"

"They-they're all dead," Graces choked. "All of them and-and..." Graces didn't say anymore she just began crying. Neville picked her up and cradled her against his chest as he took a seat in some hay. There really were no words for this, nothing he could possibly say to take this pain away. So instead he just continued holding her as she cried.

What surprised him was how much this simple act seemed to help her. Graces clinged to his neck and whimpered into his shoulder, but she seemed more at ease with this, like she needed to cry it all out. He thought she would have done this in private or with her brother, but it appeared she wanted to do it here with him. After an hour of her wailing how unfair it was she became quiet. Neville closed his eyes and she twirled his hair around her finger and laid against him. He knew dawn was coming and wished Graces would sleep, but he wasn't about to tell her to do so. She seemed to need this just as much as she needed rest.

"I have to go back to the mansion," she whispered.

"You're staying at home?"

"No, the Higgs mansion. We have a lot to do today. Can I see you Saturday morning?"

"Yes, I'd like to see you earlier, though."

"I can't," Graces hiccuped. "I-I have too much to do. The funeral is Friday. I can see you Saturday."

"Okay," Neville sighed. "If you need me earlier, though..."

"I'll owl," Graces whispered, kissing his cheek. Neville felt the hair on the back of his neck raise as she lingered near him and looked over at her to see a worried look overcoming her features. "Neutrality is no longer tolerated, Longbottom."

"I'm not neutral."

"Longbottom, you—"

"I've made my decision, Graces. I am aware of the consequences that come with it."

"Death comes with it," Graces warned, taking his hands in hers.

"Will you cry at my funeral, Miss Malfoy?" Neville smiled sadly.

"If I said I would would you switch your—"

"Shh," Neville shushed, standing up and taking her in his arms again. "No more of this. I'm going to be fine, Graces. Don't start spilling tears for me. Go be with Thomas. I will see you Saturday and any other Saturday after that. Promise."

Neville gave her another lingering kiss, gently wiping away any stray tears with his thumbs. Whispering a million promises and reassurances he didn't know if he would ever be able to keep. He wanted to though. He wanted to always be here if she needed him. He walked her over to the barn door and couldn't help but smile as she hugged him again before disappearing into the morning fog.


	44. Chapter 44

"We have two families coming over today that wish to reclaim their daughter's bodies and bury them in their own families plot," Draco began, ruffling through some more papers.

"Wh-who?"

"The Macmillans and the Abbotts," Draco informed off handedly, trying to find the necessary forms that would allow Thomas to practice magic outside of Hogwarts.

"I-it's f-fine."

Draco looked up from his stack of papers and evaluated Thomas as he shifted some blueberries around in his oatmeal.

"Is it?" he asked, leaning back and lowering his quill. "Is it truly fine? Were these girls not part of your family? Did they not wish to take on the Higgs name? Was it not in their wishes to be buried beside their husbands?"

Thomas didn't answer any of the questions, he just looked up tiredly and waited for Draco to continue. It seemed nothing he decided was right. He would say one thing and Draco would point out a million other different angles of the argument. No decision came without a list of why it was wrong.

"A statement needs to be made, Thomas. Those girls were Higgs. Do not allow anyone to forget that. It could make the difference later in an alliance. You will tell those families no. Graces will come with you to the meeting so she can speak on your behalf. Just sit there looking stern. If you want her to add anything have her lean down and whisper it in her ear. Understood?"

Draco had a feeling that Thomas wanted to argue, that he would rather just give the families the bodies and have it over and done with, but Thomas said nothing and just continued to push around blueberries.

"Thomas, you need to start behaving like a patriarch."

"Wh-why? Y-you and G-graces seem t-to be d-d-doing f-fine," Thomas said sullenly.

"That's not fair. We're trying to help you." Thomas said nothing, just continued to pick at his breakfast. "DAMN IT, THOMAS. LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M SPEAKING TO YOU!"

"What's going on in here!?" Graces demanded, striding into the foyer with Octavian wrapped up in her arms. "Draco, I could hear you from the nursery and if I can hear you the baby can hear you," Graces snapped angrily. "There is no reason for any of our voices to be raised like that."

"Thomas is being a sullen child," Draco growled. "I yelled at him in lieu of killing him."

There was a loud noise as Thomas' heavy chair screeched against the floor before the young boy stormed out of the room stomping on each step of the stair before slamming the heavy door to his room.

"Was that necessary?" Graces hissed, bouncing the now fussing child in her arm.

"I'm getting very tired of all this, Graces. I tell him again and again to behave the way a man should and day after day he behaves as a child."

"He _is_ a child."

"I am not going to argue with you about this again," Draco grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "You're right. I don't want to be yelling in front of Octavian and if I discuss Thomas with you it's just going to become a screaming match, which I am far too tired to get into."

"Your uncle Draco is a grumpy wizard, Octavian," Graces cooed happily over the child's fussing. "Yes he is. Yes he is. Now you need to stop your fussing or you'll have ugly lines etched in your face. Just-like-him. And you're far too handsome for that. Yes you are. Yes you are." Draco ground his teeth together and tried to ignore Graces. He didn't even look over at her as she took her seat beside him and began fixing a bottle.

"You can ask a house elf to do that," Draco muttered as she shook the bottle loudly.

"Octavian doesn't like the cracking sound they make when they appear."

Draco rolled his eyes and held his tongue on his opinion of that. Octavian should get used to such things. It would upset him for the first week, but after that it would just be a normal sound.

"He's so cute," Graces cooed, brushing her hand against the child's soft skin. "If I could I would just take you home. Yes I would. Yes I—"

"Thomas just finished his will this morning," Draco broke in, unable to stand the sound of Graces' high-pitched motherese. "You are to be left Octavian in the event of his death. The boy will inherit all of the Higgs estate and money and you shall act as Matriarch until he reaches sixteen. Thomas seemed to feel that seventeen wasn't soon enough."

"M-me?" Graces stuttered, taken aback. " But no one asked me. Th-this is something I should be ask—"

"I said it was fine; I spoke on your behalf," Draco drawled, an inquisitive frown beginning between his brows. "Do you not want the child?"

"I should have been asked, Draco."

"Would you have said no?" Graces hesitated a moment before declaring she would not have. "Then I see no problem."

Draco went back to the document needed to ensure Thomas would be able to use magic outside of Hogwarts. If there had been anyone magical other than Thomas living in the house the document wouldn't be necessary. The Ministry would not be able to tell if it was Thomas performing magic or an adult, but unfortunately with Alethea being a squib, he needed to get Ministry approval. _Doesn't look like it will be much of a process with Thomas already emancipated... Just need to dot the I's and cross the T's..._

"Who is the Godfather?" Graces asked quietly, taking a piece of toast from a tray.

"I am," Draco said simply.

"And he is still choosing to leave the child with me?" Graces questioned, obviously a bit startled for the news.

"I did not question Thomas' choice. He seemed to feel you were more appropriate to raise Octavian. I did not ask why. It's not my decision to make." Graces just nodded and continued to nibble at her breakfast, every once in a while looking down to make sure no crumbs had fallen on the infant. "Has Thomas held the child at all since the verdict?"

"Uh... no," Graces admitted hesitantly. Praying that she would not have to sit through another one of Draco's lectures.

"That needs to be addressed. I don't want the squib being the only figure in the beginnings of this child's life. She plans on moving back to the muggle world once Thomas graduates and if Thomas has no bond with Octavian that will only hurt the child. Talk to him and address this."

"Also, see to it that the squib gets the rest of her things from the muggle world and arrange for a house elf to get her anything she needs from Diagon Alley. I would rather her be dressed appropriately for the funeral. Muggle dress will not do. As a matter of fact, have her whole wardrobe replaced."

"Speaking of the squib is she back from the muggle world yet? I mean how long does it take to resign from a position."

"She said she would be back this evening. It's still morning," Graces pointed out.

"Well, make sure when she gets back that she remembers to sign those papers from the Ministry. Our solicitors have already reviewed them and everything seems to be fine. Thomas has signed the last few papers giving her a vault at Gringotts. It seems he's being rather generous with her portion of the estate. Make sure she takes notice of that."

"Have you decided when we can open the gates to allow people to give formal condolences?"

"People may give formal condolences at the funeral," Draco shrugged, not bothering to look up from the form he was reading. "I don't want the gates opened."

"It's traditional for them to be open the week before the funeral," Graces argued outraged.

"I've discussed it with Thomas and we have agreed to keep them closed. End of discussion. I know you were planning on announcing the funeral in the paper, so be sure to explain the Higgs are not receiving guests beforehand in the announcement."

"Anything else?" Graces asked sourly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact there is," Draco continued, giving his sister a warning glance. "There is no way we can entomb this many members in the Higgs family mausoleum. Another way of burial needs to be planned. Talk to Thomas about other options." Draco pushed a handful of blueprints and papers towards Graces. "That is the land I feel we should use, along with Thomas' Gringotts account. The other papers are what I feel is appropriate to spend in the burial. Figure something out today so the announcement can be made tomorrow."

"Of course, my Lord," Graces bowed, rolling her eyes as she moved to leave the room.

"Graces." The blonde stopped and waited for her brother to continue, her annoyance written all over her face. "I will not deal with two sullen teenagers. Do I make myself clear?"

"You know, your impression of our father isn't that good," Graces commented innocently, tilting her head to the side. "Father never showed his anger when reprimanding. It made it more frightening, don't you think? We were left wondering how close to the line we were."

"We are supposed to be a team," Draco reminded, standing to his feet. "I need you to be on the same page as me."

"If we're a team start talking to me and stop ordering me," Graces snapped, leaving the room.

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"Isn't it beautiful?" Graces asked, gesturing around the large flowery field. "It isn't done. We are going to place more flowers throughout it and a walkway winding through. Build a wall surrounding the area covered with rose vines and a gazebo in the middle with a memorial plaque. Everyone will have a picture hanging on the walls surrounding it with a small plaque built into the frame in lieu of a tombstone."

Thomas just nodded quietly and wandered around the area, giving no hint to whether he approved of this decision or not.

"Are-are you still upset about the cremation?" Graces asked nervously. "Because the ashes are buried into the ground, Thomas. There's no way for the wind to scatter them away."

"Are th-they h-here n-n-now?" Thomas asked, staring out into the field.

"Yes," the blonde whispered, wrapping her arms around him from behind. "They're all here, darling. Every last one. I oversaw the process of putting them to rest myself."

"M-may I h-have a m-m-moment?"

"Take as long as you wish," Graces murmured tightly, kissing his cheek gently before leaving him.

Thomas hesitated for a few minutes before he started walking into the field. In the back of his mind he kept thinking that he was stepping on his family members. That they were below him now as he continued to walk through the fields and inspect the flowers growing around. He tried to imagine it as Graces described. Full of flowers, encased within walls and moving pictures. Happy memories were going to be surrounding him when Graces was finished. He was going to see his family's happiest moments against walls.

It felt wrong. He didn't know why, but it did. For a moment he wondered if it was having this place of mourning with smiling happy faces of the dead. Brief moments of their life showcased while their ashes laid beneath the soil: Antincia sticking her tongue out at the camera on her 7th birthday, Avery's graduation photo when he finished Hogwarts, his mother and father curled up in a love seat on Christmas morning...

They were all going to be here, all going to be represented. Graces' idea was beautiful and yet he didn't feel right about it. He felt as if something was wrong.

_Maybe nothing is_ _**wrong** _ _. Maybe something is_ _**missing** _ _._

Thomas stood looking around the field trying to think of what more he would want added. But as hard as he tried he couldn't find a single detail that Graces had skipped over. Everything was going to be perfect. Nothing was missing. They were all here. All going to be represented.

_All except me._

Thomas rolled that thought around in his head. Was that the missing piece? Did he really feel that way? Like he himself should also be underneath this soil. He looked down at the ground beneath him and wondered if that was what he wanted. His whole life his family and he had been inseparable. They were not just the people that he shared blood with, they were part of his identity. He always had them. He had never once been alone like this. Even when he didn't have friends at Hogwarts they were there, bombarding him with letters and care packages. Now they were all together in the ground and he stood living on top. It wasn't right. He should be with them.

"Thomas?" Thomas opened his eyes and wondered when he had laid down on the ground. He turned over on his back and saw his aunt standing above him.

"L-l-leave m-me al-lone," he sobbed, turning back to the soil and watering it with his tears. To Thomas' annoyance his aunt did not leave him alone, instead she sat down in the dirt and gently started rubbing his back.

"I'm sorry they're gone."

"N-no y-you're n-not," Thomas snarled. "Y-You h-hat-ted th-them."

There was a long silence that followed Thomas' words. The young boy gritted his teeth against the grass and prayed that Alethea would just leave, but he heard no sounds of her departure.

"I don't hate them. At least I haven't in a long time," Alethea said quietly. "They were my family too and I loved them. I couldn't help but love them. Even when I didn't want to love them I did. It's-it's always been complicated for me. I hated how they had hindered my happiness and yet could never bring myself to hate them."

"W-we d-d-didn't h-hind-der anyth-thing. Y-you g-g-got everyth-thing y-you w-wanted. Y-you're b-being s-self-fish. Th-the wh-whole f-family s-still t-tried t-to inc-clude y-you. Y-you w-were inv-v-vited t-to e-every event."

Thomas didn't need to look up from the ground to know that his aunt wanted to say more. There was this tangible silence around them and he knew that Alethea wanted to say more on the subject of her estrangement for the family, but she didn't. Thomas wondered if it was because this was not the time or place with them all at rest below them or if possibly he had been right in all that he said and she had no excuse. He doubted the last part though. Alethea didn't seem like the kind of woman that would just take his statements without her own counter argument. He didn't want to hear it, though. Nothing she could say would make him think his family was wrong. He may have not joined them in death, but he joined them in their belief. Family was all and she didn't value that. She chose a life of solitude with a muggle over those that truly loved her.

"Flowers and other arrangements are arriving now. I thought you would want to oversee the arrangements being sent," Alethea whispered quietly. "Graces seems to be organizing where they will be placed for tomorrow, but I thought you would want to be involved. See who is thinking of you."

Thomas continued laying on the ground waiting for the motivation to get back up and return to the living. He wondered if it would ever come or if for the rest of his life he would have to force himself to go on. Each step towards living felt like he was leaving his family behind. He wished Alethea would just leave. Graces said he could have all the time he wanted.

"Thomas, I know this is hard, that you miss them and you feel—"

Thomas scurried to his feet, ignoring his aunt's attempt at comforting and hurrying over to where Graces stood directing flower arrangements. He didn't want to hear about how Alethea knew this was hard. She couldn't possibly know. No one could know.

"Thomas?" Graces asked, looking at his swollen eyes and angry lips before casting her glare on Alethea.

"Wh-where's Octavian?"

Graces frowned at the question. She was unsure if Thomas was asking because of a true interest or just as a way to not discuss whatever was upsetting him.

"My mother has him. She's working out some last minute details before the funeral tomorrow and she said she didn't mind taking him. Is everything okay, Thomas? You look upset."

"M-my f-family w-was s-slaught-tered. Of course I'm ups-set."

Graces nodded embarrassedly and cleared her throat.

"A lot of families have sent plants to be put in the ground," Graces told, reaching for something to say. "It's a lovely thought, don't you think?"

Graces waited for Thomas to say more, but the young boy just nodded and looked around at the multitude of flowers being taken into the garden for planting.

"Wh-who s-sent th-that?"

Graces looked over to what Thomas was staring at and began walking over to where a man in muggle clothing was planting a tree. It was stunning. Soft pink riotous blooms covered the canopying branches. It was by far the most captivating piece to be sent, but Graces had apparently overlooked it as it entered.

_The houselves must have sent him to set it up while I was discussing seating arrangements._

The florist planting the brightly pink tree stuck out like a sore thumb. While other florists that were making deliveries were dressed fashionably and having house elves do the heavy labor, he was down on his knees, wand in hand, working with the soil and mighty roots unaware of the dirty glares he was getting from the others present.

"Wh-who w-would s-send a m-muggleb-born f-florist?" Thomas asked curiously.

Graces was beginning to have an idea, but bit her tongue from mentioning her thoughts as the freckled man saw her and Thomas approaching.

"Good morning," he greeted kindly, bowing slightly before Thomas and Graces in a way that confirmed to them that he was indeed muggleborn. "I hope this area is okay, the older woman requested it be put by the gazebo."

Graces took a moment to observe the trees placement. It did seem fitting for such an elaborate tree to be placed there

"It's fine," she clipped. "What is it?"

"This? This is a cherry blossom," the man said proudly. "They grow in Japan. They represent how beautiful and short-lived life can be. Fitting for a memorial garden, don't you think?"

"Very," Graces breathed, moving under the canopying branches and tentatively running her fingers along a few petals.

"It also was spelled to only have a specific number of blooms. Each flower represents a member of the family that is buried here and it is also made to bloom every month."

"A lot of thought went into it," Graces noted, moving away from the tree. "Who sent it?"

"My client wishes to remain nameless."

"Does he now?" Graces said slowly, having a strong feeling that Neville sent this tree. "Any particular reason why?"

"He didn't say and I didn't ask. It was a thoughtful gesture, he probably didn't want the attention of thanks."

Thomas scowled at this information and nodded for Graces to join him for a private word.

"Wh-why w-would anyone w-want t-to rem-m-main an-nonym-mous?"

"It was probably someone who wanted to express condolences, but didn't want you to think they wanted to offer a formal alliance," Graces whispered, hoping that would be convincing enough. It worked. Thomas nodded and began walking away from the tree and over to the other florists that were delivering flowers of sympathy.

"Was it Neville Longbottom?" Graces asked, turning back to the man behind her. "Did he send this?"

The tan-skinned man blushed and began repeating himself about it being anonymous, but his nervousness told Graces everything. It was Neville. He sent this piece for Thomas. It was a lovely gesture on Neville's part. Foolish and rash like any other Gryffindor gesture, but lovely in meaning. She made a mental note to thank him and refrain from scolding him.

"The funeral is tomorrow morning, will you be finished by tonight?"

"I'll be finished in an hour."

Graces nodded and hurried over to where her mother had just arrived with Octavian. The day was already beginning to wear on her. There was so much to do and so little time. Half of the real issues she needed to address were not even spoken of. One of them being Thomas' meeting with the Dark Lord.

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It was a sunny day. Graces didn't expect that. It all seemed ill-placed. The golden light washing over the garden surrounding all the plants and pictures of happy faces covering everything in a honey-like hue. This was the kind of day where you packed a picnic and sat in the grass laughing with those you loved, not the kind of day you buried them.

But that was unfortunately the day it was. Exhausted from the long week of planning, she leaned against Draco and allowed her own mournful tears of loss to trail down her cheeks as people continued to go up front and say what a tragedy the Higgs Massacre was. Around them was a beautiful garden, but every person seated knew the truth. The world was ugly. And now it was uglier with the loss of so many good, decent people.

Graces closed her eyes as Draco brought his arm around her and gently rubbed his thumb on her shoulder. They had been so ill at ease with each other since the letters came, but now it was all forgotten. Now they were once again back in their realm of comfort. She had been so mad at Draco for pushing Thomas, barking orders and not allowing anyone a moment of grief, but now that they were here and all was done, she understood he was right. So many things needed to be taken care of and had they taken the time to grieve as it happened they would have succumbed to only that pain. Now the initial sting of loss had passed and they were left with only the ache of loss.

She looked over at the young man sitting next to her. He was doing well so far. He had silently greeted guests, nodding his head mournfully at their well wishes and condolences. He looked so ill-placed in a way: grown up in that there were no signs of childhood left in his eyes and a child in that his features were still not fully developed. Graces wondered if he would be forever wounded or if his wounds could heal.

Silently, she reached for Thomas' hand while her left arm still cradled the sleeping child. Thomas took her hand, but just continued to stare blankly at the man speaking at the podium. He had not shed a single tear during the funeral. He just continued to go through the motions of daily living and interaction. While people all around him sobbed, he sat with a blank, detached look. Graces had no idea how to help Thomas. She thought that he just needed to grieve, but she had given him opportunities for that and still he seemed gone to this world.

Something needed to change and Graces had no idea how to make that change happen. If it were possible she would take on all of the new responsibilities that Thomas had been left with, but she couldn't. Thomas had to. Without letting go of his hand, she stared at Octavian. Fatherhood was usually something a man chose. And she had no idea how to make a boy take up such a responsibility. It wasn't like Octavian was his child. Thomas had done nothing to bring this upon himself, and yet here he was sitting beside her responsible for this tiny life.

Draco began to shift beside her and a moment later her left side became lonely as Draco moved to stand at the podium.

"I hope everyone here can understand why Thomas and Alethea Higgs have asked me to speak for them," Draco began, his silver eyes sweeping over all before him. Graces couldn't help but admire how strong and proud Draco could look. When tragedy had struck their family he had looked so lost, but he had grown since then and with that growth he had become more of a man and less of a boy.

"He looks so much like your father," Narcissa whispered. Graces looked over at her mother and wondered why she had such a darkened look on her face before giving her attention back to her brother.

"Thomas and Alethea have no words to describe their grief," Draco continued, "and no speech in mind that could do the lives of their family members justice. On this note the Higgs clan would like to invite all to to walk along the garden path and look at the photos that show brief glimpses into the beautiful lives lost."

It was then as Draco gestured to the garden that she saw the fey bracelet Clarence had made him peeking out from his suit. In so many ways Draco was Lucius and in so many ways he was different. Uniquely Draco.

Tears rose and burned the back of her eyes as Draco approached her. She loved him so much. It was an overwhelming love she had for him and it was small things like his sentiment of keeping a fey bracelet that reminded her of why she did. No one knew Draco like she did. No one would ever know him like her. He had his faults, and an endless list of them, but he mostly just put on a show. He looked strong in that suit, but lift up the sleeves and you could see a bracelet and mark that spoke volumes of his own pain and torment. Pain and torment that he silently bore.

"It was a fine speech, Draco," Narcissa declared gently, kissing her son's forehead.

"I wouldn't call that a speech, mum," Draco smiled sadly, already moving to be beside his sister. "We should all probably go mingle. Gods forbid we are not anything but perfect hosts."

"Mum, will you stay with Thomas and Octavian?" Draco asked tiredly. "Graces and I can direct people around the garden to where their loved ones' pictures are."

"Of course," Narcissa whispered, gently taking Octavian from Graces and beckoning for Thomas to follow her away from the crowds. Graces watched them leave and fought the urge to go after them.

"He'll be fine," Draco reassured, kissing her head. "He's with mum. She'll make sure he doesn't have to speak to anyone. I talked to her earlier. She's going to direct people away by saying he's having a private moment."

"I'm nervous for him. He doesn't know our mother that well, maybe we should—"

"What we should be doing is mingling so that he doesn't have to," Draco interrupted, placing his hands on her shoulders.

Graces had agreed that Draco was right. Both her and her brother started walking around the garden separately expressing their condolences and showing people to this picture and that, every once in a while thanking them for some memorable plant and directing them to where it was planted.

It seemed like every pureblood family in the wizarding world had been somehow touched by this tragedy. Even some of the Abbots were there, though Graces didn't linger long with them. They had lost their good standing with society almost two decades ago when Hannah's father married her muggle mother. Still, Hannah's family was connected when her aunt married a Higgs.

The Higgs were always more understanding of such things. Though they never allowed any marriages outside of purebloods, they had no problems marrying into families that had such stains in their line. Her father once said it was because they had no choice, there were too many of them to be so picky, but she had a feeling that wasn't it, not since meeting Alethea.

"Graham?" Graces hurried over the walkway to where Graham was standing in the grass. She hadn't thought he had come. She had seen his family sitting a few rows back during the memorial and he hadn't been seated with them. "Graham, I didn't realize you were here," Graces breathed, trying hard to move over to where he was without her heels digging into the grass. "Why weren't you sitting with your family?"

Graham didn't answer and as Graces came up beside him she silenced her questions.

"She was pretty, wasn't she?" Graham whispered, staring at the picture of Arella laughing at a Quidditch match with her family. "You don't notice that sort of thing when you're a brother... I never noticed she was that pretty, but she was." Graces nodded quietly, not knowing what to say. Graham didn't notice the awkward silence though he just continued to stare at his sister's photo. "Do you think Draco knows you're pretty?"

Graces blushed at the comment and awkwardly fiddled with the glamoured ring on her left hand.

"I tell him enough," she smiled, trying to defuse the situation with humor. Another pregnant silence followed and Graces inwardly began debating if she should leave.

"I'm sorry," Graham said, turning and facing her for the first time. "About how I behaved that night."

"Oh, Graham, no. Don't—"

"No, I-I shouldn't have behaved that way. It it wasn't right... I'm sorry." Graham's newly haunted eyes bored into her silver ones, begging for forgiveness that wasn't needed. Graces stared up at them for a moment and realized that forgiveness wasn't what he was asking for. He was asking for forgetfulness. He didn't want her to remember him like that: torn apart by fear, rage and sorrow. He wanted things to be back as they were, for her to still see him as the she had before.

"Do you like the flowers?" she asked, gesturing to the carnations growing under Arella's portrait. "I remember it was carnations at the wedding, I thought it would be nice to have them here under her and Terence's photos."

"They're beautiful," Graham nodded, his eyes going to the flowers planted under his nephews. "White lilac?"

"Youthful innocence and memories," Graces explained. "I had white lilac planted near all the children's portraits."

Graham brushed his hand over his nephews photos and Graces looked away as she saw some tears begin in his eyes.

"How can you kill children?" he asked darkly, moving his hand away as though he suspected that touching their photos when angry would somehow taint their resting ground. "What kind of... _thing_ kills children as a means to an end?"

"I'm so sorry, Graham," Graces breathed, her frame shaking. "I-I'm so sorry. I can't even—"

The blonde fell silent as Graham reached out and took her hand in his, not even bothering to look at her, just continuing to stare at the photos before him, his face hardening as the time ticked past. Graces looked around and saw that many other people passing by were taking note of Graham holding her hand like this and standing so near.

"My father has decided to remain the same in our decision," he whispered. "Each family member is free to decide on their own. He is not going to press anyone's choice or decide for us all. He is still choosing to remain neutral. He's doing it out of spite. Arella and my nephews' death has... well, you can imagine what that does to a father."

"Since your father is allowing you to decide on your own, what will you decide?"

"He murdered my sister and her children," Graham said hollowly. "It's not exactly a decision you can make in a week."

"Thomas has had to..."

"Graces, I need to tell you something," Graham whispered, bending his head down so only she could hear.

"What is it?"

Graham looked around at the people walking past. All around them there were people. Not one single space in the garden was unoccupied. Most were silently walking along the path, tearfully looking at the pictures and searching for their loved ones, but many were in discussion with other families that were mourning their losses. Graham seemed wary to talk to Graces in such a crowded area, but she could tell by the way the young man tightened his jaw he was determined to talk to her.

"I need you to cry, Graces," he said lowly, avoiding her gaze.

"What?" Graces asked confused. "Why do—"

"Just do it," Graham gritted, reminding Graces of being on the pitch.

"I don't understand why you want me to cry," Graces continued dropping her voice as a couple walked by. "It doesn't make sense, Graham. Why can't we just talk somewhere private at a later time? Why does it have to be now?"

Graham didn't answer. He just continued to look forward, refusing to answer Graces' questions unless she cried. Well, it wasn't a hard request for her to fulfill. Between the massacre and lack of sleep she was always able to cry. The trick these days was not crying. Graces hiccuped a tiny sob, to notify the boy beside her that she was fulfilling his request.

"Oh, Graces, come here," Graham shushed, moving his broad arms so they were now around her and pulling her head into his chest. "It's okay," he whispered, his lips pressed against her head. "It's all going to be okay." There was a few moments where he said nothing, but continued to shush her, silently giving her the cue to cry harder. "Put your arms around my neck," Graham ordered, keeping his voice muffled against her hair.

Graces obeyed and tried to hide her discomfort as he nuzzled himself in the crook of her neck. She played her part crying uncontrollably and tightening her hold around Graham's neck while the older boys pulled her closer. To all around they looked like two people seeking comfort in their mourning.

"Thomas is in danger," Graham murmured just under her ear.

"What?" Graces tried to pull away, but Graham readjusted his hold. They were now hovering only a few inches from one another, Graham's right hand cupping her face while his left arm kept her chest to chest with him. The proximity of Graham's lips to hers made her uneasy, but she tried to hold still as he brushed his thumb under her eyes, like he was wiping away tears.

"Graces," he whispered. "I need you to keep calm and listen to me. Okay? Now, I overheard a conversation the other day between my uncle and a friend of is going to be brought before the Dark Lord, but not to make him bow down. To kill him." Graces felt as though all the air had been sucked out of her lungs and she was now grateful that Graham was holding her up. "He wants to appear as though he is giving the Higgs clan a chance at redemption, but he doesn't need Thomas. He is going to use him to further his message."

"I don't understand. Graham, why would he—"

"Because he knows that Thomas will never be loyal to him. Not after this."

"Oh Gods," Graces croaked. "I need to get Thomas. Graham, let me go I need to—"

"No," Graham said evenly, now tightening his hold around her to the point it hurt. "You need to calm down and think of a plan. Don't go and scare Thomas or get you and your brother killed trying to save him. Take a breath, Gray. Cry it out a bit here and then think it over."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Graces whispered, allowing her head to rest on Graham's chest, no longer fighting him to leave.

"You would never forgive me if I didn't. You love Thomas." Graces looked up at Graham quizzically, before the Montague heir offered her a ghost of a smile. "I may favor the tike a bit too. I would hate to lose my keeper now that you're out of the game."

"Do you think I will be able to do anything?" Graces asked helplessly.

Graham didn't say anything, he just looked down at Graces with sympathetic eyes. He didn't think anything could be done and he wasn't skilled at hiding that.

"Ahem." Both students turned to see Draco standing stiffly behind them, his silver eyes silently evaluating the scene before him. Graces blushed and took a step away from Graham, but Draco was still staring at the pair of them as though she were still in his arms.

"Sorry," Graham gruffed out, folding his hands in front of him. "We were just—"

"I said I approved," Draco dismissed, waving his hand. "I just thought—"

"It's not like that, Draco," Graces continued. "It was just upsetting seeing their photos..."

Draco nodded his head in understanding and Graces wondered if he was a bit disappointed. While he definitely did not approve of them embracing in public, she wondered if he preferred her with Graham.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Graham," Draco said gently. "I wish I could say more, but these days I have few words." There was a long pause in which Graham just nodded awkwardly and Draco bit the inside of his cheek. "I, uh, also wanted you to know that I had no idea about the—"

"I never thought you did," Graham broke in, trying his best to keep his voice from sounding so horse. "It was clear neither you nor Graces knew. I'm just sorry I handled it all so poorly."

"Does this mean you're sorry for breaking my nose?" Draco mused aloud, a good natured smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

"I wouldn't go that far."

"You broke Draco's nose?" Graces asked scandalized.

"We got in a duel over the letters and he disarmed me, so I punched him," Graham shrugged. "He really didn't see that coming."

Graces tried to not giggle so obviously. It was nice to move past the sadness that had overcome everyone at the deaths, but she didn't feel right about outright laughing during a memorial.

"I should go be with my mother," Graham murmured, seeming to remember where they were as well. "I'll see you two later tonight at Hogwarts."

Graham shot Graces a look before leaving, his uneasiness about Thomas showing, but before Graces could give him any nod of reassurance he was gone.

"Is he doing well?" Draco asked, taking his sister's arm in his and strolling along the path.

"I believe so," Graces breathed, leaning her head against Draco's frame.

"What made you become so upset?"

"He was upset, so I became upset," Graces lied, deciding that she would not tell Draco of Thomas' predicament. "I'm not used to seeing Graham so emotional."

"Is it a side of him you like?" Draco asked, clearly trying to decipher if she could develop feelings for him.

"Graham is just a friend," she maintained.

"Let me know if that feeling changes."

"Are you wanting to marry me off so quickly?"

"I want you to be happy. And if your happiness could ensure you some security, I wouldn't be opposed."

"Graham's father is choosing to maintain their previous arrangement: each family member may choose for themselves."

Graces glanced up wanting to see Draco's expression at this news, but the blonde boy kept his expression schooled. It still told Graces though of what he thought. Draco usually only kept his face expressionless like their father if something displeased him. Her father on the other hand kept it the same no matter what.

"Do you know what Graham has decided?"

"He hasn't yet."

"I see."

"Are you worried?" Graces asked, slowing her pace.

"Graham is not mine to worry over," Draco reminded. "I have you, mother, father, Thomas and apparently a godson to devote my worries to. I like Graham, and hope he doesn't allow emotion to make his decision, but I can't allow myself to worry over it."

Graces nodded and continued to walk with her brother, looking over at the many faces in the crowd.

"Do you think their killers are here?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

Graces swallowed hard at her brother's honesty, but did her best not to show how sick the realization made her.

"Try not to think about it," Draco advised.

"Where's Thomas?" Graces asked tightly looking around. Draco nodded over to the bench placed under the cherry blossom where Thomas sat feeding Octavian. He definitely didn't look affectionate towards the babe, but him taking the time to feed him himself was a great improvement. "How did that happen?"

"Mother. She handed him Octavian and walked away to greet some friends. Thomas didn't have much of a choice."

Graces moved forward to get a better look and smiled down at the two Higgs, despite Thomas' stony look.

"He likes you," Graces encouraged, nodding her chin to the way Octavian's tiny fist curled around Thomas' spare finger. It was a lie. Graces knew that was a reflex in infants, but Thomas' face softened at the comment and he seemed to be a bit more encouraged. He adjusted his hold so Octavian was closer to his chest and now was staring down at the boy instead of trying to ignore him in his arms. "You know," Graces mused innocently. "The nice thing about having a child is you can excuse yourself from functions. For example, no one would probably think twice if you left to put Octavian down for a nap or to keep him out of such cold weather."

Almost immediately Thomas stood to leave the garden, but unfortunately that was also the time that the Macmillans came over to see their grandson. The young boy stared at the older couple in front of him.

"We were hoping that we could take Octavian off your hands for a bit," Audrey Macmillan offered, clearly anxious over if the boy in front of her would allow such a visit after the court hearings.

"Thomas was taking Octavian home," Draco said coldly. "It's been a long day and he needs rest."

"Surely twenty more minutes wouldn't harm the child," Alvin Macmillan countered, placing a calming hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Are you sure?" Graces asked sardonically. "We wouldn't want anyone saying Thomas is negligent. Perhaps it would be best if he erred on the side of caution and left now."

"We didn't say Thomas was negligent," Audrey argued. "We just said that young men could be negligent."

"Implying that Thomas shouldn't even be given a chance."

"Could we speak with you alone, Thomas?" Alvin requested, ignoring Graces last comment. "In private as family."

Thomas raised a cool eyebrow, but made no motion to answer. Graces began to feel the onset of panic begin. Thomas was not going to speak in public, but he couldn't just ignore the Macmillans' request to speak. She wondered what he was going to do. The young man nodded, and curtly moved his chin dismissing both Graces and Draco, something that rubbed both Malfoys the wrong way. Graces followed Draco a few yards away, but kept her eyes on Thomas as he sat down on the desk and gestured for the Macmillans to continue their argument. Thomas lazily leaned back against the bench and listened intently to what the couple was saying. It was obvious they were asking for involvement with their grandson, something Thomas did not have to give. After a few moments the dark haired boy looked down at his watch and cautiously handed Octavian to his grandmother, his eyes not moving away from hers as he did so, the couple seemed pleased and nodded before walking away with Octavian over to the portrait hanging of his mother.

"What happened?" Graces asked, already over beside Thomas.

Thomas just waved his hand indicating they would talk later and watched the couple with Octavian. It felt like forever for Graces, but it was really only twenty minutes before the couple returned, handing the now sleeping child over. Thomas stood gracefully to receive the child, his eyes showing a great amount of distrust to the light family in front of him.

"I'll owl you," he said cryptically, taking his new son and walking away. Draco looked over at Graces and both twins wondered how long he had to build himself up to say those three words perfectly, before scurrying after Thomas and sending a sneering look behind them over at the Macmillans.

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"It's going to be okay," Draco repeated, adjusting Thomas' collar so it laid pressed against him. "Just pledge your allegiance and do anything he says. You're going to be fine. After you'll come back to Hogwarts and can begin to put this behind you. I talked to another Death Eater. You won't be taking the mark. I'm assuming that the Dark Lord is going to wait till you're a 6th year. It's going to be okay, Thomas."

Thomas nodded his head nervously and bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself. He wished Draco was coming with him. He didn't care that it was childish. He wanted Draco with him, but he understood why Draco couldn't come. The blonde boy had taken him aside after Octavian went down for a nap and explained what his situation was with the Dark Lord. If Draco came with him he could face some serious consequences.

"You will probably be cruciated," Draco murmured, his silver eyes avoiding Thomas'. "It's okay to scream and cry then. And your stutter will be explained probably if you seem terrified. Try not to stutter before being cruciated. There are a lot of purebloods that will be watching, the kind that will have no problem taking advantage of you. Be mindful of that."

There was nothing more that Draco could say after that. Thomas knew he was worried. He had not stopped tugging his left sleeve since after the funeral. He had a feeling that this was going to be more horrific than Draco was letting on, but that the blonde wanted to keep him from being too terrified. After taking a long breath, Thomas forced his feet into the hearth of the fireplace and took the floo powder. He really hated this part. He closed his eyes and mouthed Hogwarts for a good five minutes before actually saying the word aloud and spinning towards the school. When he finally landed in his destined area he was yanked forward into the room.

"G-graces?"

"Put these on," Graces ordered, throwing Thomas formal robes with his family colors.

"B-but I'm already w-wearing f-formal r-robes," he argued, growing more confused as each second passed.

"Thomas do not argue with me!" Graces shouted, clenching her hands together furiously. "Do what I say and do it now. We do not have time for this."

"Wh-why are y-you here? Y-you're supp-pposed t-to b-be—"

"Thomas," Graces began, clearly trying to appear more patient and less frazzled as she placed her hands on his shoulders. "I need you to just trust me. Put those robes on."

Thomas didn't understand what was happening, but something in Graces' demeanor told him that he was in danger. He anxiously began undressing and kept his mouth shut as Graces began hurriedly dressing him: buttoning this, pulling his arm through that.

"I'm going with you," Graces informed, tying his tie as he finished buckling his belt. "You will not argue with anything I say. You will not speak a word. You will follow my lead and under no circumstances display any of your magic. Do you understand me? Don't even think of using non-verbal spells or wandless magic, Thomas. Do only what I ask you to."

Thomas agreed, panic beginning to rise in him at Graces' statements.

"Th-the r-robes d-don't f-fit," he pointed out, holding his arms out. "Th-they're t-too b-big."

"I know," Graces whispered, looking down for a moment going over something in her mind. "I wanted you to appear like a child." Thomas scowled at this logic and waited for Graces to continue. "Thomas, I need you to appear like a child. Don't try to hide your nervousness or fear when we are before the Dark Lord. I need you to look like a child, do you understand me?"

Thomas nodded his head and tried to calm himself down. He could feel the panic setting in. Something was off, terribly off, so off that Graces hadn't told Draco. He wanted to go home and hide. If Graces wanted him to look terrified she should be happy because now he would look and feel the part. The blonde offered him a ghost of a smile and kissed his forehead gently.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Thomas. I swear."

Graces didn't linger after her declaration, she quickly rushed out of the room dragging Thomas by the hand behind her as her formal dress and robes billowed a ribbon of blue, silver and white: her own house's colors.

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"YOU ARE NOT COMING!" Snape snarled angrily, slamming his fist into an old, worn table that was covered with watermarks from endless mugs sitting on the bare wood. "THOMAS, COME HERE. WE ARE LEAVING!"

Snape reached for Thomas' arm, but Graces moved in front shielding him with her body. Thomas couldn't see Snape, being nestled into Graces chest, but he had an idea of how angry the potions professor was at this. Still, he allowed Graces to shield him and prayed that Snape would not harm her.

"Over my dead body," Graces choked, her fingers digging possessively into his back. "You are not taking Thomas. I won't let you. If you want Thomas you'll have to kill me. I'm not sending him to the Dark Lord to be slaughtered."

There was a long silence in which Thomas fully expected more screaming or a hex, but nothing came. Hesitantly he peeked an eye out from behind Graces' neck. Snape was staring at her in a way that made Thomas wonder where the potions professor's mind was. He certainly wasn't there with them in the room. His black eyes looked, if possible, darker and his pasty white skin seemed to grey.

"You are a foolish girl," Snape said darkly, turning away from them and walking towards the door, clearly expecting them to know to follow. They treaded through the Forbidden Forest, Graces not once releasing her hold on his hand even when he tripped over his too long robes. Thomas stared at her hair in the moonlight and her pale skin. While she had dressed him to look like a child, she had dressed herself to look like a woman. Her dress hugged her curves and dipped low in the front drawing attention to her chest. "We'll be apperating there," Snape stated once they were far enough away from the castle that they were no longer on Hogwarts grounds. He didn't ask any of them if they were ready or remind Graces she didn't have to come. He just placed his hands on them and they were gone.

Thomas never thought sidelong apparition could be any rougher than it already was, but he had been sorely mistaken. He pulled himself off the cold concrete and tried to disentangle himself from his overly large robes. The place they were in reeked of stale blood and rotted flesh, and the concrete he was standing on was littered with small bones from what looked like rats, birds and... human teeth.

"Mr. Thomas Higgs... _and Miss Graces Malfoy._ Well, well, isn't this a surprise."

Thomas immediately tensed at the way Graces' title was said. There was this gleeful malevolence to the words that chilled him to the bones.

"I hope you find it a pleasant surprise, my Lord," Graces voice said sweetly.

Thomas looked over to where the sounds were coming from. The room was dark and he could see Graces down on her knees kneiling before a large chair, but it was too dark to see the figure she was speaking to.

"Unannounced company is rarely pleasant," the snake like voice drawled, causing both Thomas and Graces to tense. "But perhaps this will be the exception."

Thomas could barely make out the eyes of the man in front of him, but immediately when they were on him he felt the hair on his neck stand up and dropped to his knees to kneel. He knew he was in the presence of the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Lord Voldemort, the man that killed his and many other families and fear was starting to creep up his spine from it.

"Come closer," the Dark Lord ordered, the "s" drawing out slowly as a low hiss.

Thomas stood and began to approach cautiously, unsure of whether he should try to look forward or keep her eyes on the floor. Graces was still kneeling, her eyes trained to the ground. So he followed her example by moving to kneel beside her, unconsciously placing himself so that they were touching as they knelt. It was beginning to feel real now. And with reality setting in he began to feel disgust at kneeling before the man that killed his family.

"Look at me."

Thomas swallowed down as much of the anger as possible and looked up at the abomination before him. If Thomas had been in a right frame of mind he would have known better than to gawk in horror at one of the most powerful wizards alive, but he was too taken aback to show propriety. Scarlet eyes looked down upon him, from a face that resembled more a snake than man.

"You do not appreciate my appearance, Thomas?" the Dark Lord chuckled, causing a ripple of snickers from his followers that were aligned around the room. Thomas shook his head apologetically and veered his eyes downwards submissively. "No matter, I don't really care if young boys find my face pleasant to look at." Thomas breathed a small sigh of relief and prayed that he could just continue looking down at the ground. "However, I do care that you find everything about me repulsive. That you think I'm a mad man on a rampage and pray every night that someone, anyone, Potter or Dumbledore, will take me down." Panic flooded through Thomas' veins. He should have known that he would look in his mind. That he would see everything. "And you underestimate me." The Dark Lord smiled. "I have no use for those that would so easily betray me. It's too bad, such a strong line wiped out so quickly."

Thomas shrank back as he saw the long skeleton fingers take his wand and aim it towards him. He hoped it would just be the killing curse, just a flash of green and then he would be gone. He didn't want to die like many in his family: frightened, screaming and in pain. He didn't want his blood to be added to the scent that was filling the air like many before him.

"My Lord, forgive me, but I believe there is a way to make Thomas one of your most loyal followers and for you to gain another marked follower as well."

Thomas held his breath as Graces stood standing in front of him. Once again shielding him from any horrors.

"Graces," a woman's voice hissed, "move out of the way."

"I do not take my orders from you, Aunt Bella. If my Lord wishes me to move away I shall, but I hope he will at least allow me the privilege of speaking my piece."

Apparently Graces' aunt didn't approve of her talking back and had at once moved forward and was grabbing Graces by her arm trying to pull her away. But Graces didn't budge. Instead she pulled out her wand and aimed it at her aunt's face.

"Don't. Touch. Me," she whispered darkly, her teeth bared menacingly as the tip of her wand pushed her aunt farther away.

Bellatrix eyes widened at her niece's defiance and the crazed look that she had to her came into her features as she stared into Graces' silver eyes.

"All grown up now, darling?" she asked dangerously. "Think you can take me on?"

"I know I can," Graces challenged, her left foot sliding into a dueling position. "I'm almost the top in my class and seeing as how you had difficulty with some of my lower classmates..." Graces allowed her voice to trail off suggestively.

"You little—"

" _Also_ , I feel you should be reminded, my darling aunt, that the last time you tried to reprimand me for not obeying you my mother took a dagger to your throat."

Bellatrix paused for a moment before taking a step back and falling back in line. Thomas wondered how powerful Narcissa was. He had never really seen her display any real skills. She usually just stood beside her husband or performed spells any ordinary housewife would perform. However, he did know she was fiercely protective of her children. It was common knowledge that she ripped out a house elf's tongue for proclaiming Draco a bad boy after he tore up his father's office when he was four. Bellatrix certainly seemed to feel that she should be wary of her sister. Or perhaps it was something more simple. Maybe she truly did love her sister and didn't wish for her to never see her again. Either way, Graces' threat of her mother worked.

"Attachment is an interesting concept, don't you agree my Lord?" Graces asked casually, her wand still held towards her aunt. "People will do anything for their loved ones. My mother would kill for me. My aunt would lower her wand and take humility over my mother's anger and disownment. And I can assure you with my life that Thomas will give the same faithfulness to you."

Thomas frowned at Graces last sentence, unsure of what exactly she was saying.

"Thomas loves me," Graces continued. "You've seen how Draco reacts to the threat of my life; Thomas would react in the same way. Killing the boy does nothing really. It just spills pure blood and destroys a family line. Thomas is a child. Children need to be taught. It isn't his fault he was taught wrong. I can teach him. I can ensure you that if you allow him to live he will be one of your most devoted. All you have to do is make me accountable for him. If he thinks, says or does something wrong don't punish him, punish me."

"No!" Thomas was now on his feet, pulling at the material of Graces' dress trying desperately to get her to stop talking.

"And also if you do this I will take the mark," Graces declared over Thomas' protests.

"Your brother has demanded that you not take the mark." Voldemort reminded.

"I'll be seventeen this summer, old enough to do as I please, despite my Patriarch's orders. I'll take the mark for Thomas as Draco has done for me."

"P-please s-stop. Don't."

"Thomas!" Graces snapped, turning round on him. "Keep your mouth shut or I will shut it for you."

"He doesn't seem to be very mindful," the Dark Lord cackled.

"Children just need to be taught," Graces repeated, moving Thomas behind her and digging her nails into his arms angrily. "They just need to be taught. I can do that, I swear it."

"Shall we begin the lessons now?" he asked darkly, standing up obviously delighted.

"No!" Thomas shouted, his eyes now burning with tears.

"If that's your wish my Lord."

"What would you say is an _appropriate_ punishment for interrupting?" Voldemort mused, circling Graces like a predator as the blonde twirled about, making sure to keep Thomas hidden, despite his protests.

"I'm unsure, my Lord," Graces whispered, knowing very well what the punishment would be.

Thomas had an idea too and before anything could be done he wrapped his arms around the blonde trying to protect him and dragged her to the ground. He had no idea what exactly he was really saying or how it sounded. He was sure he was a stuttering mess, but he begged. Begged for him not to hurt her, promised he would do anything that he wanted, pleaded for mercy. Thomas imagined he was asking for all that and more.

"Thomas, you need to let go. Thomas, stop this right now." No, how could he stop? He had been a coward. He should have never allowed Graces to come with him. Draco told him their standing. She wasn't safe. He had been weak. He was scared and wanted her there so he didn't argue. He wasn't going to be weak now. He wasn't going to allow this demon to hurt her. "Thomas, you're making it worse," Graces whispered, a tone of begging in her voice. "Please, stop. It will be over if you stop. Stop."

"Severus, come get your student," the Dark Lord demanded. "Hold him away and make sure he watches. I want him to be properly _taught."_

Thomas tried to fight Snape as he was dragged away from Graces' fallen body, but the older man was stronger and not opposed to bending his arm to the point where it was almost breaking to get him to move. He slumped to the ground as Snape held his arms back and continued to scream for Graces to not be hurt.

"Miss Malfoy, it would appear thus far that you are correct in your assessment of Mr. Higg's feelings for you. He certainly does not want you harmed, but he still has yet to be obedient and remain quiet." Graces was still on the ground bracing herself on her hands and knees, preparing for what was going to come. "Miss Malfoy, wouldn't you like to stand up?" Graces looked up for a moment and shakily rose to her feet, clearly understanding it was not a suggestion. "Did you wear this dress for me?" Graces nodded nervously and took a step back. "It's a shame; such a fine dress. If Mr. Higgs would become silent I wouldn't need to punish you and dirty it up."

"I understand, my Lord," Graces whispered, swallowing hard.

"NO! PLEASE. P-P-PUNISH M-ME! ME! N-NOT HER!"

"He still doesn't understand," Voldemort grinned. "I think it's time to make him."

Thomas watched in horror as Voldemort raised his wand and cast the Cruciatus curse. Soon the room was filled with Graces screams as she thrashed on the floor in pain. Thomas tried to move away from Snape he tried to go forward and save her, but he couldn't break free. He was forced to watch as Graces wailed on the floor, begging for mercy.

"If you truly want this to stop I suggest you stop screaming," Snape hissed in his ear, pulling Thomas' arms tighter behind him.

Thomas closed his mouth and tried to muffle his sobs. He did this. Graces was screaming and begging for an end, because of him.

"Right again, Miss Malfoy," Voldemort declared, over Graces whimpering body. "It seems punishing you for Mr. Higg's transgressions is far more effective." Thomas held his breath as those red eyes fell back on him. "Mr. Higgs, do you understand why I am punishing her?" Thomas nodded his head and mouthed his apologies, begging with his eyes for this all to end. "Let him go, Severus. I think Mr. Higgs understands not to interfere."

Thomas slumped to the floor and moved lower to meet Graces' eyes so that his cheek was no pressed against the ground.

"How many nights has it been since I purged the world from your family?"

"S-seven d-days," Thomas whimpered, as Graces painted against the floor. Her hair was tousled from slamming against the concrete. Her lip bled from biting down on it. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand, tell her it was all going to be okay, that he was sorry, that he would obey and do everything she said.

"Ssseven daysssss," Voldemort repeated. "So for seven days you have prayed that Potter would defeat me."

_No. No-no -no._

"I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry," Thomas begged, bringing his hands up to plead.

"And you are not addressing me as my Lord," Voldemort continued angrily, the slits in his face flaring. "I think nine minutes under the cruciatus will suffice for punishment."

"My Lord," Snape broke in calmly. "Perhaps it would be best if we staggered the punishment out. We wouldn't want another Frank and Alice Longbottom on our hands. Miss Malfoy is a talented witch. It would be a shame to lose such a valuable asset when she has just sworn to take the mark."

"Hmmm I suppose you make a point, Severus. Miss Malfoy, if you could once again stand. We shall begin with intervals of three." Graces closed her eyes and took a few panicked breaths as she laid on the dusty ground. Thomas wondered if she wasn't able to get up. Or if she couldn't bear to. "Or have you changed your mind?" Voldemort asked, moving his wand towards Thomas.

"No," Graces whispered. "No, I-I'll stand."

Thomas opened his mouth to protest, but closed it as Graces brought a silencing finger to her own lips.

Half an hour. Thomas had to watch and listen to Graces' merciless torture for half an hour. For a minute she would be cruciated and then for three minutes after she would have time to rest, where she whimpered and cried for anyone ranging from Draco to the Gods, before she was placed under the curse again. Thomas knew he was never going to be able to get Graces' screams and pleas for mercy out of his head. He would forever hear the echoes of her ragged voice, a constant reminder of who would be hurt should he ever move out from the Dark Lord's thumb.

When it was over, when it was finally over, he crawled over to her. He held her limp body and cried into her clammy skin, whispering a thousand apologies over and over again. Graces didn't seem able to answer though. Her head just tipped back limply and her breathing continued to be shallow. Thomas quickly moved his arm to support her better like he would with Octavian.

"You may go now," Voldemort dismissed, moving to sit back down on his throne.

Thomas began thanking his new Lord profusely and tried to stand with Graces, but it proved harder than he had anticipated with her dead weight. He was about to try picking her up, but before he could Snape was beside him taking her other arm and hoisting her up. Thomas couldn't stop crying as they made their way to the door.

"It's okay, darling," Graces whispered hoarsely. "It's all over. All over."

"Actually, Miss Malfoy, if you could stay," Voldemort requested, causing the three of them to halt before the door. "It seems with all the excitement I forgot to discuss your brother's trespasses against me. It's been months and his task is still not complete. Now, since I have not seen him, he's kept himself so well hidden, you'll have to suffice for his punishment."

"N-no," Thomas whispered, turning to Graces who was just staring blankly at the door. "N-no."

"Professor, take Thomas and go," Graces whispered hollowly, a small tear falling from her cheek. Thomas protested, he clung to Graces' hand as Snape picked him up and pulled him out the door. Graces didn't look at him, though. She stood motionless as he screamed her name, her eyes closed even as a crowd of masked people surrounded her.


	45. Chapter 45

"No! NO-NO! L-LET ME G-G-GO! GRACES! G-GRACES!"

"She can't even hear you now!" Snape snarled, continuing to try and wrestle his student against the soil of the forbidden forest. "Thomas! Thomas, listen to me. Listen to—"

"Y-YOU L-LEFT H-HER! H-HOW C-C-COULD Y-YOU L-LEAVE HER! T-TAKE ME B-BACK!"

"Oh and what are you going to do?" Snape spat. "Help her? Did you forget your lesson so quickly, Mr. Higgs? If you go back there and try to save her you will probably get her and yourself killed!"

"S-SO Y-YOU J-JUST L-LEAVE H-HER TO G-GODS KN-KNOW WH-WHAT!"

"I had no choice. She made her decision to come. She knew what could have happened. Thomas, if you do not calm down I am going to use my wand on you!"

No sooner had the potions master made the threat did Thomas not hesitate in sending him hurtling towards a nearby tree. Snape slid against the bark and down into an overgrown brush, before bursting forward with wand in hand, casting levicorpus. Snape took a moment to compose himself as Thomas struggled with his robes as he dangled upside down.

"You are exactly what she said!" Snape growled, lifting Thomas' robes and grabbing the boy by the cheeks. "A child! A foolish, rash child! I know what I left her to! I cannot save her from such actions! You cannot save her from such actions! Graces Malfoy made her choice! The only option we have left—the only choice—is to handle the damage. He is not going to kill her. He won't. Killing Graces loses Draco, and, trust me, the Dark Lord is no fool. He does not want to lose Draco. He wants to send a message," he added quietly, flicking his wand and releasing Thomas.

"Wh-what are th-they d-doing t-to h-her?" Thomas moaned, laying his forehead in the dirt as he continued to cry.

"Whatever they are doing she will recover from."

The professor's answer did little to comfort the boy in front of him and Thomas continued to cry for a few moments before Snape grabbed him by the arm and started for the castle.

"Y-You h-have to g-go g-get her," Thomas pleaded, dragging his feet and causing the man beside him to yank harder on his arm. "P-please b-bring her b-back. P-please."

Snape ignored the rest of Thomas' pleas and Thomas, after almost fifteen minutes of pointed silence, stopped begging and just cried. As they neared the castle he saw familiar blonde hair illuminated in the moonlight. Draco calmly strutted across the finely kept Hogwarts grass to meet the two of them, obviously not having a clue that Graces had even been at the meeting.

"It's okay, Thomas," Draco sighed, tugging Thomas' arm away from Snape's rough grasp. "It's going to be okay. Snape will give you a potion and the soreness will go away. Try not to think about it."

Thomas kept opening his mouth to say something, but no words would come out. Everytime he tried to tell Draco about Graces his sobbing just ended up being harder and he couldn't breathe.

"Mr. Higgs was not harmed. No curse, regular or unforgivable, was placed on him," Snape informed quietly.

"Then why are you blubbering," Draco scowled, smacking the back of Thomas' head. "I'm going to start calling you Longbottom if you cry for no good reason." Thomas opened his mouth and tried to tell Draco but between his sobs and stuttering the blonde didn't get a single word. "These aren't the robes I got you," Draco said quietly frowning at Thomas' sleeve as the younger boy held his cloak.

"Your sister went with Mr. Higgs to meet the Dark Lord," Snape finally said.

"What?" Draco breathed, looking around for a sign of her. "Then where is she? WHERE IS SHE?!" he asked again as neither Snape or Thomas answered.

"Oh my gods," Draco croaked, taking a step back and grabbing his chest.

"Draco, she is not going to be—"

"YOU LEFT HER THERE!" Draco roared. His face twisted in a way where it seemed he was torn between sobbing and screaming.

"We had no choice," Snape snapped. "Your sister made the decision to come and—"

"WHY WOULD YOU LET HER? WHY? YOU KNEW WHAT OUR SITUATION WAS YOU KNEW AND YOU—"

"It's done!" Snape exclaimed. "It's done. Now you can continue yelling at me or we can—" The potions master stopped his scolding as Draco began sprinting into the forbidden forest. "Draco, come back here! Draco!"

Draco was running as fast as his legs could carry him. Graces was with the Dark Lord. Graces was alone with the Dark Lord after he had not been able to complete his task of killing Dumbledore. Draco didn't even want to imagine what that sick, twisted man was doing to her. He needed to get to that apparition point. He needed to get to her. She was not going to suffer for his failings. She was not. He was going to get her. He was going to get her and take her back here and she was going to be fine. Just fine.

Draco picked up his pace as he heard Snape behind him. He could feel his sides burn from the labor, but he didn't care. If Snape caught him he wouldn't be getting to that apparition point and Graces would not be saved. So he pushed harder through the pain, ducking and dodging curses that the potions master was shooting at him. He wanted to grab his wand and curse him away, but he was worried it would slow him down so he pressed forward. He was almost to the point. He could see the tree that marked the apparition point, but right when he was about to push harder to reach it his feet were suddenly stuck to the ground and he was falling face first into a tree root.

"Why is it that you, your sister, and Mr. Higgs insist on being pigheaded fools?" Snape growled, rolling Draco over on his back and digging his heel into his chest. "Do you three not realize that your lives are meaningless to our Lord?"

"Let me go!" Draco wailed, tears of frustration and fear flowing down his face. "Let me go! Graces needs me. She's my sister. I love her. I can't let her be hurt. I can't. You have to let me go. You couldn't possibly understand."

"If you go before the Dark Lord right now there is no telling what he will do to you or what he will do to Graces. You will only feed the blood lust. Draco, listen to me; trust me. I will get her back, but you need to stay here," Snape ordered, moving his leg off Draco as the blonde boy continued to sob.

"She's my sister," Draco moaned, covering his eyes with his arm. "My baby sister. You just left her there. How could you leave her there? How could you take her there? You have no idea what you've done. You've never had anyone to love and protect. Someone that makes you feel whole and sees your good and not your bad. You have no idea what you've done."

"Your sister is not going to be killed. The Dark Lord would not—"

"He's a mad man!" Draco screamed. "He would kill her on accident. He would become too carried away in her torment to remember to keep her alive!" Snape closed his eyes as the young man rolled on his side and curled into himself crying as though he had been the one punished by the Dark Lord. "Please take me to her. Please take me to get her. I have to be there. I have to save her."

"It's done!" Snape snapped. "It's done. We left her about half an hour ago."

"Oh gods," Draco moaned, his chest shuddering as he rolled back to bury his face in the dirt. "Oh gods."

"We do not have time for this," Snape scolded. "You will get up this instant, go to the castle and wait for me in your sister's dorm room. You will not—I repeat, will not—breathe a word about any of this. Do you understand me?" Snape strode angrily to the apparition point. "You want to save your sister? Begin to do as you are told in a timely fashion, Mr. Malfoy."

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Snape slowly walked into the dark room, careful to keep his steps from alluding to any sense of urgency. He could feel the soles of his shoes slipping on the bloody floor but maintained his balance and kept his eyes forward. He could see Graces laying in the middle of the floor from the corner of his eye, but tried not to look too interested.

"Severus, it appears you have come too late to join us in our earlier festivities," the Dark Lord greeted happily. "Such a shame you had to play teacher and take the younger boy back to school."

"Such a shame," Snape agreed hollowly, stopping right where Graces laid.

"Miss Malfoy, didn't seem to enjoy herself like the rest of us," Voldemort declared, false disappointment riddling his voice.

"Is she alive?" Snape asked casually, noting the immense amount of blood he was standing in.

"Now, now, Severus, would I so casually kill your goddaughter?"

Snape didn't say a word to that comment. Instead he continued to look forward, his hands folded patiently before him. A multitude of Death Eaters were leaning in slightly for a response, but the potions master offered none.

"Go ahead, Severus, take the girl back to the castle," Voldemort smiled, standing from his throne and moving over to Graces his skeleton like finger gently moving her hair to reveal her bloodied face. "Not an improvement I'm afraid," the Dark Lord tisked. "It would appear some of my followers got a bit carried away. No matter, she's alive."

"Perhaps, St. Mungo's would be better suited for her injuries, my Lord," Snape suggested, evaluating the body before him.

Voldemort smiled menacingly at the suggestion and stood up above the girl lying before him.

"What message would that send?" the snake-like man asked. "I need Draco to understand my impatience, Severus. I need the other students to _see_ what happens when my orders are not carried out in a timely manner." There was a looming silence as Snape waited for the Dark Lord to continue. "Miss Malfoy will not be allowed any magical care. Nor will she be allowed any medical treatment for the pain. For three days she is to remain without it."

"My Lord, she will not survive three days with no magical treatment," Snape argued, unable to stop himself from pointing this out. "Blood loss alone is going to kill her."

"If she dies, you shall be held responsible," Voldemort shrugged. "I suggest you figure something out, Severus. You're a smart man, it shouldn't be too difficult for you to figure out a solution."

Snape stared at the Dark Lord for a moment, before hesitantly bending down to pick Graces up off the floor. It was impossible for him to see the severity of her injuries with her dress in the way, but he attempted to pick her up in a way that wouldn't cause more harm: an impossible task. The moment he lifted the girl up he knew that this could be a potentially fatal mistake. He was by no means a healer, but he understood enough to know you don't move someone this badly injured.

"My Lord, may I request the use of a stabilizing spell so that I can move her without causing more injury?"

There was a long pause in which the potions master was sure he was going to hear no or be cruciated for even asking, but by some stroke of luck the Dark Lord agreed and Snape set to work to stabilize Graces' body for transport. The stabilizing spell did nothing for the injuries. It by no means stopped the bleeding. It only ensured he could not move her in a way that would cause more harm. After a few moments of wand work, he picked her up and began to head towards the door, but just like the last time he had tried to leave the Dark Lord stopped him with a warning.

"And Severus, should you or anyone else use magic on Miss Malfoy to try and help her I will kill a whole year of your house."

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Drifting. Graces was drifting. She could feel Snape carrying her and saw the ceiling of what looked like an old dusty house, but she couldn't seem to be able to say or do anything. She was conscious. She knew what was happening, but she couldn't do anything. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized this must be Snape's home, not his Hogwarts home, his real home.

He stepped into the fireplace and she understood they were going to Hogwarts now through the floo network, because she was dying. He wouldn't have apperated to his home to use the floo if he could have just apperated outside of Hogwarts. She was dying and he was trying to save time. She didn't expect words of comfort from the man holding her to his chest, but she wished he would look at her. She didn't want to die ignored and alone. Snape didn't make her feel less alone. She could be lying on the ground before the Dark Lord still and she would feel just as alone as she felt now in his arms.

She didn't want to feel alone. She wanted to be with someone. There was pain. Awful pain overwhelmed her, but pain would leave. She knew it would. One way or another it would end. She didn't even care if death was the means to that end, but she didn't want to meet it alone. She closed her eyes as the world began blurring. It scared her to see it morph like that. It was like visually seeing herself slipping away and she couldn't bear to see that. Feeling it was one thing, but seeing was horrific.

"Oh, Gods!"

"Help me get her to the bed!"

"Graces? Graces? Can you hear me?"

Graces tried to open her eyes, but they hurt too much. She saw the blurred silhouette above her and tried to grasp something in her mind to make sense.

_Father._

"No, Graces. It's Draco. Draco. We need to call a healer! We need to—"

"No healer; no magic; nothing medicinal for the pain. Those were the orders."

"She will die! We have to do something we can't just let her—"

"Go down stairs and get help. You need to try and manage the bleeding. You don't have magic to use, so what you do is apply pressure to any open wounds like this with your hands." Graces gasped as she felt weight on her hip and whimpered when it continued. "I'm going to leave Hogwarts and find someone who can help her, but you need to apply as much pressure as you can. Get a few of your friends, friends you can trust, and use towels and sheets to apply pressure."

"She's dying. She's going to die."

"If you continue blubbering like that and don't do as I say yes she will."

Graces continued to hear crying and after a few moments of loud shouting there were new sounds surrounding her. Still she kept drifting until she was falling and the sounds seemed to become more distant. Every once in awhile something would bring her back to: a sharp pain in her side, someone smacking her cheek, louder yelling, something cold on her head, but she could never seem to continue hanging on. She wished she could, though. She was sure Draco was somewhere in that noise. She wanted Draco, but she just couldn't stay. It was too hard. She was too tired.

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Dr. Harris was exhausted. He was so desperate for sleep that he could feel his heart rate slowing in his chest. He dragged his feet over to his car and thought about how lovely his bed was going to be once he made it home. He had spent the last fourteen hours in the ER. That's fourteen hours of reviewing charts, yelling at residents, seeing patients, rushing to the OR, cutting people open, stitching them up, putting an assortments of orders in and talking to other specialty surgeons about plans of action. It was days like these where he wondered if he had chosen the right profession. He wondered if he should have chosen to be a specialist and not a surgeon: stay in a comfy office seeing patients, work nine to five and never have to work to the point where he was going to fall asleep on the parking garage floor.

Dr. Harris was so tired he almost didn't notice the oddly dressed man walking around the garage, but as the lanky man drew near he slowed his pace.

"Are you lost?" he asked, wondering if this was a visitor that had entered the employee garage.

"Are you a doctor?" the other man asked, striding over to him purposely.

Dr. Harris didn't answer right away, he had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach and paused his steps to try and decipher what he should say. There was something off about the man coming near him. It was more than just the odd, priest-like robes he was wearing, it was something else. Something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

_Is that blood on him?_

"Dr. Harris, I need your help," the man started, keeping a safe distance away from him.

"How-how did you know my name?"

"There is a girl," the man continued, ignoring his question all together. "She's badly injured. I need you to come with me."

"Why have you not called for an ambulance?" the surgeon asked skeptically, taking a cautious step back.

"Dr. Harris, please, there isn't time for this. Please come with me."

Dr. Harris stared at the bloody hand extended to him and took a step back bracing himself to get away, but before he could turn the bloody hand was on his shoulder and he was violently being pulled by his naval while the world swirled around him.

Dr. Harris staggered away from his abductor and into an old kitchen table covered in dust and odd jars. He still felt as though his world was spinning even with his feet flat on the ground, he gripped the table in front of him and tried to hold his nausea back so he could think. But nothing was coming. No thoughts were being formed inside his head. Nothing made sense. He was in the garage and now he was here? Where was here? He knew he was in a kitchen, but it wasn't possible for him to be in a kitchen. None of this was possible.

_He drugged me. He must have injected me with something. Thus the dizziness, nausea and disorientation. I've been drugged._

"Dr. Harris," _How does he know my name? Badge, I'm still wearing my badge. I need to get out of here. I need to move away._ "You have not been drugged. Nor are you even wearing your badge."

"Get away from me," Dr. Harris panted moving around the table. He could feel his heart slamming in his chest as the other man moved to block his exit.

"Dr. Harris, I need your help. There is a girl, she's badly hurt. She needs medical attention and she needs it now. I need you to follow me into the next room, so I can take you to her."

"If the girl is hurt take her to the hospital!"

"That's not an option," the stranger informed, moving his stance to be more open incase he decided to make a run for it. "Dr. Harris, I don't want to hurt you, but we do not have much time."

"Move out of my way!"

The older man seemed to be getting more irritated by the second and pulled out a long stick from his robes. Dr. Harris scowled at the motion and took a step back. Wondering if he was going to try to stab him, but before he could think of the implications of a stick the man pointed it at him and sighed: "petrificus totalus".

Harris' arms snapped together to his sides and he swayed backwards landing with a loud smack into his back. He could hear the footsteps of the man coming forward, but he was unable to sit up to see him. He laid there paralyzed and scared.

"Dr. Harris, there is much to explain and little time."

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There was a ringing. Dr. Harris had watched a lot of war movies and in them there was always a ringing sound in the main character's ear when he went into the battlefield or someone next to them got shot and then their world seemed to move in slow motion. He had always assumed the ringing was from all the gunfire. But here he was standing inside an odd room and the moment he looked at the girl he was brought here to help a ringing had developed in his ear and the world seemed to slow.

Children. Children were in this room all crying and yelling things to the man behind him. A girl with a pug nose was crying against the bed. A few boys, no older than teenagers, were on their knees on the mattress applying pressure to wounds with white sheets that were now spattered red. And a young blonde girl lay underneath their hands.

"Jesus Christ," the physician breathed, taking a step back.

"Would you like a calming potion?" Snape asked, taking out a vial from his inside pocket and holding it out to him like he was offering a cigarette.

Dr. Harris stared at the wizard in front of him. The wizard. He still couldn't get over the fact that this was happening, that this was real. He wanted to tell himself this wasn't real: he had fallen asleep and was having a bad dream. But the pain in his shoulder from his fall told him that wasn't true. And he knew this man was standing in front of him while children cried and a girl lay on the bed dying.

"How long has she been unconscious?" he asked rushing over to the bed and ignoring Snape.

"In and out. She doesn't stay unconscious long," a dark boy answered quickly.

"She's consistently breathing on her own?"

"Yes."

"Good," Dr. Harris clipped, taking his stethoscope and listening to her heart and lungs. "Weak. Everything is weak. You, move your hands away from her chest."

"Who are you?"

Dr. Harris stopped his examination and looked up at the blonde in front of him.

"I'm Dr. Harris. I'm a surgeon."

"A doctor?" the darker boy beside him gasped. "A muggle doctor?!"

"YOU BROUGHT A MUGGLE HERE TO SAVE HER?" A burly boy roared.

"Miss Malfoy is not allowed any magical care," Snape said coldly. "What else would you suggest?"

"I need you to move your hands away from her chest now!" Dr. Harris repeated, snapping everyone's attention back to him.

"She'll bleed out," the blonde argued, his hands still remaining firm.

"I need to examine her." The blonde still didn't remove his hands and all the other boys in the room seemed to band with him silently.

"Draco, this is her only chance," Snape promised, walking over to the boy's side. "Her only chance."

Draco closed his eyes and seemed to be biting down as hard as possible on his teeth. Dr. Harris took in his blonde hair, his high cheek bones, the way his ears were shaped and realized with a heavy heart that this boy was related to her. This had to be his sister.

"Draco," Dr. Harris began taking on a more gentle tone, and moving his hands on top of the boys, ignoring his hostile glare. "I am going to do everything humanly possible to help your sister. I swear to god I will, but you need to move your hands and trust me."

Draco grudgingly moved his hands away and Dr. Harris didn't even need to remove the girl's clothing to see her ribs were caved in and broken.

You said you could get me supplies," he reminded hollowly, looking up at the man that brought him there.

"Just tell me what you need."

_I need a hospital._ Dr. Harris put away his sour words, he knew that the man in front of him was not going to allow this girl real medical attention. He began listing the supplies and tried to keep himself from becoming sick with the thought he would be using these instruments on her with no anesthesia, no pain killers, no sterile environment and with the help of a boy and a man he suspected was responsible for this girl's harm. Suddenly, the child woke and was gasping violently for breath.

"Oh, Jesus," Dr. Harris cursed, moving people away as they crowded near. "I want only family in the room. Draco only may stay, everyone else out. Add a chest tube to those supplies and go now!"

Dr. Harris had seen many patients grow panicked at waking up and being unable to breath, but it was different seeing the girl lying there in the bed wake up with this panic. She heaved to try and take in a deeper breath and her eyes searched out the matching pair above her. She was confused, disoriented and blatantly frightened of him hovering over her with his hands pressed against her more significant wounds.

"Graces? Graces? What's going on!?" Draco shouted, growing hysterical as his sister's loud wretched gasps for air came faster. "Why can't she breathe?!"

"Draco if you can't remain calm I'll ask you to leave the room. I can't have you panicking your sister," Dr. Harris warned, finishing off tying some bedding to a wound, before moving up to examine the girl.

"Graces? Can you hear me? I'm Dr. Harris. I'm a trauma surgeon. Honey, I'm going to take good care of you, okay? So no more panicking." Dr. Harris pulled down Graces' eye lid and examined her pupils while the girl continued to gasp for air. Next he moved his stethoscope on her chest listening to her heart and lungs. "Okay, Graces, you need to listen to me. You have a lot of broken ribs, hon, and what's happening now is those broken ribs have created an air bubble against the right side of your lung, causing it to collapse from not being able to expand fully. I know it hurts and you feel like you can't breathe, but you can. Your left lung is working still. It's not a lot of air, but it's enough. When you panic you start to hyperventilate and when you do that your heart starts pumping faster. Graces, you need to listen to me. You need to stop panicking. Your body doesn't have enough blood. So because of that your heart is already pumping too quickly, add your panic and it's too much. You need to calm down."

Graces didn't seem willing to trust his words, she looked up at Draco as though asking permission to do as he said. Thankfully the blonde nodded and slowly the girl lying before him started calming her breaths. It was painful and each movement she made for air was purposeful to maintain a slower rhythm, but she was succeeding.

"That's a girl. There we go." With his finger on her neck he monitored her pulse. It was still too fast and it was becoming worse the longer she struggled for air. "Graces, I'm going to fix that lung for you, okay? I don't want you to start panicking again so I'm going to walk you through what will happen. When the supplies arrive I am going to cut a hole between your ribs, just a small hole," he added quickly. "After that I'm going to put a tube through the hole and the air that is preventing you from gaining a full breath will come out. This is a really easy fix, sweetheart."

"What if it doesn't work?" Draco asked desperately.

"It will work."

"But what if it doesn't!"

"Draco," Dr. Harris began slowly. "You're going to scare your sister. It will work. Now, until the supplies get here do your best to keep her calm."

Draco nodded and began whispering that things were going to be okay. Dr. Harris tried not to listen as the young boy made promises of life that he was unsure would be kept. The important thing now was keeping her calm if not to stop her heart from pounding then to give her some peace so she didn't die frightened. As he tore her dress open he was hyper aware of the stormy gray eyes watching him. He doubted Graces knew or even cared, her eyes remained locked on her brother as though he were a god she could plead her life to.

Dr. Harris didn't even want to pretend to know what this girl must have been suffering through. He had seen worse injury in his years practicing medicine, but this was different. When someone came into his ER holding their intestines they got to be treated in a facility equipped to deal with such horrors. Graces wasn't in that place. She was being forced to feel all of her injury. She looked as though she had been in a bad car accident without a seat belt. There were signs of trauma all along her chest, face, legs and arms. If she made it through the night he would set to work aligning her bones, but he had his doubts she would make it.

When the supplies arrived the doctor immediately jumped up from the bedside and began grabbing at what was in Snape's hand: Scalpel, tube, syringe, gauze, tape, alcohol and finally blood. He didn't even bother to lay anything out, he dumped the large amounts of supplies onto the bed and began dousing Graces' ribs with alcohol.

"K, sweetheart, like we planned," Dr. Harris warned, taking the scalpel and making the incision. He didn't even look to see how Graces did with the pain, whatever pain she was in from him was nothing compared to what he imagined she was going through. He threaded the tube behind her ribcage and used a syringe at the end to take the air out. And suddenly with a gasp and cough it was done. "Take it easy. Take it easy," he ordered, listening closely to her chest.

"She's coughing up blood!" Draco declared panicked.

"Pulmonary edema," Dr. Harris thought aloud, becoming more distressed as Graces continued to lose blood. "I suspect she has major internal bleeding as well," he continued trying to find a vein in her arm so he could give her blood. "She needs a hospital."

He said the last part more to himself then the people in the room, but the statement made the uncomfortable silence deadening. He couldn't believe how this was being allowed to happen. He never in his life thought he would be doing what he was doing right now. He kept thinking that if he had more gall he would fight the man that brought him here, find a phone and call for an ambulance, but he couldn't get himself to do any of it. This girl needed medical attention and she needed it now. Taking time to fight the man that brought him here would be precious time taken away from saving her. And time was of the essence.

"Graces? Graces? You still with me sweetheart?" The blonde didn't respond: her head lolled to the side and her eyes closed. Dr. Harris cursed loudly and ordered the younger blonde to hold the blood bag.

"What is this?"

"It's blood. She's lost a lot of blood, this bag will give her some blood back. After we are going to give her another bag, then another, then how ever many more we need to give her to replenish what she has lost."

"But where did you get so much blood? Do you muggles have a vampire?"

"Vampire?" Dr. Harris repeated. "No, people donate it." No sooner had the words come out of his mouth did the younger boy rip the needle out of his sister's arm. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"It's muggle blood! She can't have muggle blood."

"What are you talking about? Muggle? She needs blood. She will die without blood. You have no idea—"

"She might as well be dead if you put muggle blood in her!" the other boy roared.

"Draco, stop this!" The older man was now striding over, trying to help him put the needle back in the girl's arm. "She will die without it. Is that what you want? Do you want your sister to die because you couldn't allow her to have blood?"

"Give her my blood," Draco demanded holding out his arm.

"I can't just give her anyone's blood! You two may have different blood types! If I gave her your blood and she had a different type it would kill her! O negative is the universal donor. Without knowing her blood type that is the only blood I can give her."

"They are twins," Snape pointed out.

"They are _fraternal_ twins. They can still have different blood types," Dr. Harris growled, growing increasingly more distressed the longer Graces went without blood.

"I'm O negative," Snape offered, holding his arm out. "Use mine.

"A half blood isn't much better," Draco spat. "No it's my blood or no blood."

Dr. Harris studied the silver eyes glaring down at him with determination. This boy, her brother, was not going to allow her another way of saving her. Anger began to seethe through him. He was a doctor. He knew what he was doing and yet this boy this child wouldn't allow him to do it.

"You will be the one dying if I take the blood," he said slowly. "Your sister is on death's door. She needs all the blood I can give her. No one can donate that much blood."

"I'll take a blood replenisher," Draco argued. "I can drink that potion until she has enough."

"A blood what?"

"It's a potion that replenishes the blood someone loses," Snape lectured.

"A potion that... Why don't you give her that?!"

"Don't you think we would if we could! Do you honestly believe we would be asking you to save her if we had the option of magic!"

"I don't have time for this!" Dr. Harris gritted, grabbing Draco's arm and stabbing a needle through it. "Squeeze your hand open and closed. If your sister dies it's on you!"

"It was always on me," the blonde boy muttered, doing as the physician ordered.

Dr. Harris went to work. Doing all he could do for the girl laying on the bed. He began tearing away the rest of her dress trying to find more open lacerations he could tend to. He felt as though he were racing the clock. He was like a medic in a war zone with no real tools and little skill. Everything he could see was not what was going to kill her, it was all lingering under the surface of her skin. She had to be bleeding internally, but he had no way of seeing where she was bleeding without the proper equipment.

"She needs a hospital," he repeated now with a tone of begging. "She's bleeding internally. I'm sure of it. I need to find out where she is bleeding. I need to get an ultrasound or a CAT scan. Please let me take her. I swear to God I won't tell anyone anything. Just let me take her. Please while there's still time."

"We can't let you take her. Tell me what you need and we will go from there."

"She's in stage four blood loss. The fact that she is now unconscious means that she's lost over 40% of her blood. Her blood pressure continues to drop despite my stopping the external bleeding and her hands are cold. Please. Please let me take her. I beg you."

"But-but I'm giving her my blood," Draco whispered, closing his eyes to keep back his tears. "I'm giving her my blood."

"Something inside her is bleeding. It's like putting water in a bucket with holes. We need to stop whatever it is that's bleeding inside of her to help her and in order for me to do that I need to take her to a—"

"Cut her open here," Snape ordered.

"What?"

"Cut her open here to find the bleed."

"You want me to cut this girl open here. With no anesthesia. No respirator. No monitors." Dr. Harris stared into the cold unfeeling black eyes in front of him. "What kind of a monster are you?"

"The kind you couldn't even begin to imagine."

"The shock alone could kill her," Dr. Harris choked. "Please. Hasn't she gone through enough. Please."

"P-professor," Draco choked, his voice breaking as he took a shuddering breath. "I-I can't lose her. Let him take her... Please-please let him take her."

"You have two options: try and save her here or let her bleed out. No hospital; no magic; nothing for the pain."


	46. Chapter 46

Something was wrong. It was more than the fact that Graces had not shown for their morning meeting, or that he hadn't seen her in the Great Hall for meals. Neville was sure something was wrong; he could feel it in his bones. Something had seemed off ever since he laid down for bed Friday night. At first it was a nudging in his gut, a fleeting bad feeling whenever his thoughts drifted to her, but now it was overcoming him. It spread through his belly and sank his heart down to his knees. Something was wrong.

He could have ignored the feeling in his gut and chalked everything up to paranoia, but when Graces hadn't owled him her apologies at not meeting or even sent Pansy to tell him she wasn't coming he couldn't help but dwell on it. And, if he were being perfectly honest, he didn't expect her to show up for their meeting. He had woken up today knowing that Graces wasn't going to meet him, which is why he was hiding behind an old tapestry waiting for some Slytherins to pass by so he could enter their common room.

He was aware that this was a stupid plan and that he was about to enter a den and anger a multitude of snakes. He also realized that Graces was going to kill him, but he didn't care. Something was wrong and he wasn't about to ignore this feeling welling up inside him. Graces could be as angry as she wanted. He really didn't care so long as she was alright. And as for the rest of Slytherin, it wouldn't be the first time he was hexed. He had been cruciated before, he doubted that anything they did to him would be as bad.

Neville clung to that thought as he moved out from behind the tapestry and followed two second year girls who both seemed completely absorbed in their own thoughts.

"I heard she likes sweets," the smaller girl whispered hollowly. "Maybe we could order something from Honeydukes."

"Maybe."

"What's wrong?"

"I-I just can't stop thinking about her screaming."

"Yeah, I know..."

"Didn't it bother you?"

"Not as much as when it stopped."

Neville tried to tell himself that they weren't necessarily talking about Graces, or that he was just taking this the wrong way. Perhaps Graces was screaming at Draco, or she and Pansy got in a tiff. Perhaps it wasn't Graces at all, he reminded himself again, but that feeling of dread continued to hammer at his insides.

"Purity," both girls said together in unison after moving behind the stone wall hiding the entrance. Neville quickly moved behind it as well and entered the common room directly behind them causing both girls to turn and let out a shrill scream.

Blaise Zabini looked as though he were about to hex him, but stopped himself short when he realized Neville was still behind the second years.

"What are you doing here, Longbottom?" the dark skinned boy asked, moving forward with his wand in hand.

"I, uh, I—" Neville all of the sudden felt very stupid for continuing with his plan. Everyone in the Slytherin common room was now standing, holding their wands. Distaste and even hate were obvious in their stares.

"Who cares why he's here?" Pansy screeched, lifting her wand higher. "Get him out!"

Neville ducked as a curse came whizzing by him. The two girls he followed had now gotten over their initial shock and ran over to join the crowd of Slytherins closing in on him. Montague was lifting his wand up and Neville had the impression from the way he gripped it that whatever he was about to send was going to hurt.

"I-IcametoseeMalfoy," he blurted out immediately, covering his head with his arms from the curse he suspected was on its way. Neville waited for a barrage of curses and jinxes to start bombarding him, but to his surprise nothing happened. He looked up and all of the Slytherins were looking at him oddly.

"She's not well today," a curly haired boy from the Quidditch team said. "Just leave."

"If she isn't well then why isn't she in the hospital wing?" Neville challenged, slowly bringing his arms down.

"Our head of house is the potions master," Graham reminded darkly. "He's tending to her."

"If that is true, why doesn't he attend to all of you when you're sick."

"Graces is his goddaughter. He gives her extra care and attention," Millicent drawled, as though this was obvious and Neville was a fool to not know.

"I think you're all lying," Neville stated, looking at all the faces surrounding him. "Something's up and you all are trying to cover it up. I want to see Malfoy and I want to see her now."

"Exactly what do you think gives you the right to sneak into our common rooms and make demands?" Blaise questioned in a way that made Neville feel like he was standing on thin ice.

"Malfoy always, without fail, sends me an owl or gets someone to tell me if she is unable to meet for tutoring. _Always_ ," Neville emphasized. "Today she didn't show up and I received no notice telling me she wasn't able to and—"

"In case it has escaped your notice there has been a massacre," Graham spat, pulling Neville up by his collar and shoving him away. "People are dead. I doubt her mind is on arrangements she made to tutor you!"

"S-so which is it?" Neville challenged. "Is she lost in grief or is she ill?"

"It can't be both?" Pansy quipped.

"Fine," Neville contended. "I'll leave, but I'm stopping at the hospital wing to tell Pomfrey she's sick and I suspect she will want to examine her herself."

"She doesn't need Pomfrey!" Blaise shouted as Neville made his way to the door.

"Doesn't hurt to have a real mediwitch check her out."

Neville yelped as a hex burned his hand when he reached for the door to leave. He spun around and glared at the Slytherin responsible.

"Right," he nodded. "So now I shall go see Pomfrey and tell her how I got my hand burned and also that for some reason no one in Slytherin wants Graces to be seen."

"What makes you think you will make it out of this room to tell?" Graham asked, moving to stand beside Neville at the door, his chiseled arm now blocking the way out.

"Are-are you insinuating that you're going to-to do away with me?" Neville asked, trying his best to sound confident but failing miserably. "Well, isn't that a smart idea. Kill me. Then we'll see what happens. If I go missing the whole castle will be swarmed with even more aurors and you can bet the headmaster will be wondering why he hasn't seen Graces as well."

If Neville learned one thing from Graces it was that Slytherins liked their intimidation tactics. Most of them would rather keep their hands clean. They used their power, strength, wealth and other influences to make their opponent stand down, but if you remain standing, if you demand as loud as them usually there would be more discussion.

"Someone get Draco," Montague ordered, his dark eyes not moving away from Neville's. "Tell him Longbottom's little infatuation with his sister is going too far."

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Graces tried not to flinch as the... _doctor_... examined her face. Thomas was asleep, slumped in a chair by her bed clinging to her hand. She had woken up with him there: him on one side, Draco on the other and this muggle standing over her hurriedly taking a tube out from her mouth. All three of them had stayed hovering around her since she had become conscious.

"How is your vision?" the chestnut haired man asked, a concerned look on his face as he examined her right eye.

"Fine," Graces lied, turning her head away so he couldn't open her eyelids.

"You are able to see fine out of both eyes?" the doctor asked skeptically.

Graces gave a small nod and turned back to Draco, who kissed her head reassuringly.

"Your stitches are healing incredibly fast," Dr. Harris commented, looking down at her abdomen as he lifted the sheets. "It's remarkable."

"She's a witch," Draco deadpanned. "We don't heal like you muggles."

"Isn't that lucky for you," Dr. Harris smiled kindly, gaining Graces attention back. "Now, since you seem to be doing so well I think it would be best if we moved forward with your other injuries."

"What do you mean?" Draco frowned.

"I would like to re-set your sister's arm for one. It's dislocated, so today I would like to pop it back in place. If she does well with that we should reset the other broken bones."

"Why didn't you do this last night?"

"It was not a priority. She can live with her arm dislocated, her fingers broken and hips out of place. I was not going to put her through unnecessary pain, but judging by the way she is healing I think we need to set those bones. I don't want them to have to be rebroken because they healed out of place."

Graces turned back away from the doctor. She'd rather Draco handle everything. Pain was now becoming a part of her. She felt as though it was more than just a state of being at this point. She felt it everywhere. It sounded like what this muggle wanted to do was only going to add to her pain and she would rather die than suffer anymore. Her abdomen burned and ached from where he had sliced her open like a fish. She had screamed when she felt his barbaric tools cut through her and she had cried out in agony when she awoke and saw that he had sewed her up like a quilt. She didn't want anything to do with the butcher standing over her.

"We will wait for a proper healer to fix those things," Draco said curtly.

"I really think we should at least fix the—"

"Draco." Dr. Harris quickly let the blanket drop and Graces tried to hide her discomfort at being seen as Blaise walked into the room. "I'm so sorry, but I need you to come downstairs."

"I'm a little busy," Draco growled, moving so his sister's face was blocked from view. "Whatever it is I'm sure can be handled by someone else."

"Draco," Blaise repeated. "You _need_ to come down."

Draco glowered at the boy standing in the doorway and angrily shut the curtain, ensuring Graces' privacy, something Graces did not appreciate. She would rather have Blaise see her beaten to a bloody mess than be left lying in bed defenseless with the muggle. She tried to hear whatever it was Graham was saying, but both boys seemed to be talking quietly, making it impossible for her to hear.

"I'll be right back," Draco promised, coming back to her side and kissing her cheek .

"No," Graces mouthed, pleading with her eyes for Draco not to go. Not to leave her alone with the strange man beside her.

"Thomas is right here," Draco reminded. "I'll be right back."

Graces shook her head in protest desperately trying to get her brother to not leave her, but Draco continued out. She stared at the door in disbelief. He had left her alone in the room with a muggle. He left her.

"Graces?" Graces tried to focus on Thomas' hand on hers' and not the fact that she felt frightened in this man's presence. "I would like to continue examining you, if you don't mind."

Dr. Harris watched as the girl he had saved cowered away from him and desperately looked to the door as though praying that her brother would come back in. He stared at the bruises on her collar which suggested that she had been held down and took a step back from the bed.

"Graces, were—"

"Stop calling me by my given name," the blonde rasped, her voice scratched and hoarse from the tube that had been helping her breathe through the night. "We're not familiar."

"Malfoy... right? It's Malfoy?" Graces nodded. "Miss Malfoy," Dr. Harris said gently. "You can't see out of that eye, can you?"

Graces ignored the question and continued stare forward.

"I didn't think so..." Graces could feel the tears building up from behind her eyes. She couldn't see out of her eye. She couldn't see and she had a feeling the sight would not return. "May I examine it?"

"No."

"I just want to help you," the doctor whispered, moving a piece of her hair away from her face. "Please, let me examine you."

Graces shook her head defiantly and continued staring at the door waiting for her brother.

"Miss Malfoy, it may not be permanent. There is a chance that this would be temporary. Your eye is almost swollen shut at the moment, but if you allow me to examine it I can assess whether we can treat it. If you do not allow me to assess you and it is a problem I could fix you risk losing that vision forever. Please allow me to examine you."

"You won't tell my brother?" Graces asked, hiccuping a sob.

"Not if you'd prefer I didn't." Graces nodded and did her best not to move as Dr. Harris forced her eye open. It was excruciating. Her eye socket was fractured and it took all her strength not to scream, but she pushed through breathing heavily as the pain worsened. "What can you see?"

"Nothing," Graces whimpered.

"Nothing at all. Make sure. Not a fraction of an image."

"I can see a small portion out of my inside corner," Graces sniffed. "But there are spots."

Dr. Harris nodded sadly and moved away from her eye to sit beside her on the bed.

"I'm not an ophthalmologist," he began quietly. "I'm not a doctor that specializes in eyes, but I believe your retina to be partially detached." Graces waited for the muggle to say more, but he seemed hesitant. "There is a possibility you may lose all of your sight in that eye," Dr. Harris said apologetically, taking his hand and placing it on hers. "And there is a possibility that with surgery you could have full sight or it will remain the same."

Graces was desperately trying not to become upset. It wouldn't do for Draco to come in and see her crying hysterically over the possibility of being blind in one eye. He blamed himself enough for all this. If he knew there was a possibility of permanent damage he would never forgive himself. She tried to clench her mouth closed to keep it all in, but it just hurt her jaw more and caused her to succumb.

"I'm so sorry," Dr. Harris choked. "This shouldn't be happening."

Graces looked over at the doctor sitting next to her and watched as he seemed to be wiping away tears and looking over at her collarbone. It was obviously broken as well as riddled with bruising in the shape of hands, an obvious sign she was held down.

"That didn't happen," she rasped angrily. "I wasn't... _violated_. Not like that."

"I know," the older man nodded. "I examined you last night. No fluids. No bruising. No tearing. No signs of forced entry," he murmured answering the unspoken question. "Your brother... he was beside himself. He wanted to know."

Graces closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. She didn't want to imagine what last night had been like for Draco. She didn't remember anything really after Snape took her away, but she had an idea that it was all out of a nightmare.

"Why did they hold you down like that?" Dr. Harris whispered, moving a hand and tracing the handmark on her collar.

"I curled up in a ball," Graces explained tightly, not wanting to relive such memories, but unable to resist being able to tell someone. She certainly would never tell Draco. "I curled up in a ball to protect my vital organs... It was a mistake. I was told not to... but-but I kept doing it and then-then they held me down. I made it worse."

Graces held her breath to keep from crying. She did not want to start blubbering like a pathetic child. It had happened. She had survived. It was over, done. She concentrated on ignoring the burning in her eyes and the tightness in her throat.

"That's not your fault," Dr. Harris whispered. "That was smart."

Graces ignored his reassurances. It was stupid. She had caused herself more pain for angering them. Listening the first time would have made it end faster.

"Why was this allowed to happen?"

"It just was," Graces clipped.

"Has it happened before?"

"No."

"Will it happen again?"

Graces could feel the inside of her chest vibrating anxiously at the question. Would this happen again? Would it be worse? Would she even be permitted to live? Whenever she had thought about Draco's failure she had thought of a quick death, but now... Now she knew. She swallowed a sob and closed her eyes, breathing in through her nose deeply to try and control her emotions.

"Graces?" Graces slowly opened her eyes to her brother's voice. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, just hurts."

Draco nodded sadly and continued to gently run his fingers against her arm far away in his own thoughts.

"Neville Longbottom is here." Draco must have still been able to see the look of surprise on her face, despite it's swollenness, because before she could ask why the hell Neville was there he continued. "You were supposed to meet him this morning, I guess, and now that you did not show up, owl, or send someone to let him know you could not make it he is convinced something is wrong. He snuck into the common room. I guess he followed two second years and now will not leave until he sees you."

"Make him leave," Graces demanded. "You're a wizard, damn it! Make him!"

"Graces," Dr. Harris broke in, his hands on her shoulders making her lean against the pillow. "None of that. You need to keep calm." Graces knew what the muggle was saying was true. She already felt light headed and her heart felt like it had just ran thirty laps around the pitch. She mimicked the doctors breathing and did her best to remain calm. "Draco," Dr. Harris began turning to her brother. "Your sister is not well enough to receive visitors. Especially ones that will only make her upset."

Draco nodded, but didn't move to dismiss Neville. He sat beside her on the bed staring angrily down.

"He said if he doesn't see you for himself he will tell Madam Pomfrey that you are not well. If I hex him or anything he said that he's going to tell his head of house that he thinks something's amiss and make someone check on you." Draco closed his eyes and was visibly trying to swallow his anger. "I had to agree to let him see you... He's made an unbreakable vow to not tell anyone anything about the situation."

"No," Graces choked, angry tears now brimming out of her eyes. "No. I don't want to see him. Tell him I don't want to see him. Please, Draco. Please make him leave. Please."

"You don't think I tried?" Draco sighed. "Graces, he won't leave. He's as stubborn as he is stupid when it comes to you. I swear to the gods, Graces, if I could kill him I would. His little infatuation with you has crossed the line."

"I'll speak to him," Dr. Harris offered as Graces continued to hiccup tears. "I'll explain to him that—"

"If a muggle doctor goes out there and talks to him he will know something is up. We don't use muggle doctors. Ever. We consider you barbaric butchers. I never would have let you touch my sister if we had another option," Draco murmured darkly, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the man in front of him.

"Draco, please make him leave. Just tell him that I'm not well and that I'll even write him later tonight, but I don't want to see him. Please," Graces stressed. "Shouldn't I be left with some shred of dignity."

"Okay, okay," Draco shushed. "I'll tell him. Don't get yourself upset. I'll tell him."

"It's too late!" Graces barked, her voice breaking from the strain. "I am upset! I want him to leave and I want him to leave right now!"

Thomas woke up from the loud angry voice and looked from Graces' tearful face to Draco's.

"It's a long story," Draco groaned. "Longbottom is here demanding to see Graces and she naturally does not want to see him. I'm taking care of it."

Draco stood to leave and Thomas moved to follow him, but Graces grabbed his hand.

"Don't leave me in here with him," she whispered, nodding her head at the doctor standing beside her. "Don't."

Thomas nodded and sat back down by her bed. Graces closed her eyes and tried to relax, telling herself this would all be over in a few days. Praying that it would be. She felt Thomas lay back down by her hand and wished she could run her fingers through his air to offer him some sort of comfort.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Thomas whispered, his shoulders shaking from tears. "I'm s-s-so sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," Graces dismissed, closing her eyes. "I made my choices. None of this was your fault. I chose this."

Thomas didn't seem to take much comfort in that statement, because the younger boy began to cry even harder after her proclamation.

"Thomas, I made this choice," Graces stressed. "Me. No one else. I chose to go there and I knew the risks. I'm fine. I'm alive and in a few days I'll be made well, like none of this ever happened, but you would not have. He was going to kill you."

"H-he a-almost k-killed you," Thomas sniffed, trying to stop his tears.

"If he was going to kill me he would have killed me. Don't be fooled, if he wanted me dead I would be."

Thomas nodded quietly and stared down at the bed. She thought back to his screams when Snape dragged him away from her, his arms outstretched to her like if he could grab ahold of her he could save her.

"Will you bring Octavian to see me tonight?" she breathed trying to not think of the pain. "I'd like to see him." Thomas nodded, but didn't lift his head. "Maybe you could pack an overnight bag and the bassinet? It would be nice to have both of you here."

"H-he'll d-disturb your s-sleep."

"That precious child? No. I'll sleep well with him here, please?" Graces begged.

"I'll get him when Draco returns," Thomas swore, offering a small smile.

"I don't know if a child is the best thing to have here when you're not well," Dr. Harris broke in, earning himself a very nasty Malfoy glare.

Graces was about to make a nasty remark, but before she could work up the energy Draco came back into the room.

"Draco?" Graces asked, curious as to why her brother was not moving more into the room and had decided to hover at the door.

"Longbottom refuses to leave," he whispered. "And-and the unbreakable vow was specific in that he had to be able to see you in order for it to take place. He's... he's threatening to go to Dumbledore now."

Graces took a shuddering breath and then another and another, until she was choking on the lump in her throat preventing her from crying.

"Noooo," she moaned. "No, I don't want him here. I-I just want Octavian, you and Thomas."

"Octavian?" Draco repeated, frowning over at Thomas.

"Sh-she w-wants him h-here," Thomas blushed.

"I see," Draco nodded. "Is that wise?"

"No, I don't believe so," the doctor interjected angrily. "She needs rest and relaxation. She's healing remarkably, but I need to reset those bones. After I do that she will be in even more pain. A screaming child is not going to help her."

"I believe I said that you would not be resetting her bones," Draco said coldly. "Octavian may come, Thomas why don't you go home and bring him here in a few hours."

"I would strongly advise against that," Dr. Harris continued, obviously upset.

"You have advised and I have decided," Draco declared curtly, as Thomas walked out of the room. The doctor opened his mouth to argue, but Draco just continued to speak to his sister. "It's not an option, Graces. I'm sorry. Longbottom has to see you. We cannot afford anyone finding out about this."

"Draco, please," Graces begged, growing more panicked and upset. "Please don't. Tell him what happened if you have to, but I don't want to see him."

"Graces," Draco sighed, trying to be gentle and reassuring, but beginning to become frustrated. "He won't be able to tell anyone, if you're worried about people thinking—"

"I don't want _him_ seeing me like this!" Graces exclaimed. "It has nothing to do with anyone else! I just don't want _him_ to see me like this!" It was then as Draco stared at her curiously that she realized she had made a mistake. "I'm not dressed, I'm vulnerable and-and I can barely stand for the people I love to see me. I'm not comfortable around him. I don't want him seeing me at my weakest. I can't even put on a shirt, because of this damn tube in my chest, all I have is the sheets covering me. Please don't allow him in."

"Graces, I tried," Draco groaned, clearly taking her excuse without question. "He won't leave. He refuses—"

"I'll talk to him," Dr. Harris snarled, walking towards the door before either twin could stop him.

"Who's the lad wanting to speak with Miss. Malfoy?" he called out, as he left the hall and entered the common room.

A young man wearing a red and gold tie stood up from against a wall. Dr. Harris was a bit surprised at this boy's appearances compared to the boys he had seen in the past hours. He wasn't dressed as sharply and his face, though frowning, had much more of an openness to it.

"Longbottom?" The sandy haired boy nodded his head and crossed his arms in front of him. Normally such actions made a person look closed off, but not when he did it. His eyes were alert and the small frown between his forehead spoke more of worry than annoyance. "I'm Dr. Harris."

"Doctor?" the boy questioned a deeper look of concern coming to him. "Like a muggle healer?"

"Uh, yes, I suppose. I'm not magical, if that's what you mean and I heal people. I'm a trauma surgeon."

"I'm sorry," the younger boys murmured, moving one of his hands through his hair anxiously, "But what's a surgeon? I understand trauma, but what's surgeon?"

"A surgeon is a doctor that can perform surgery. Surgery is usually used to treat any injuries or problems in a body by opening the body up and repairing it," Dr. Harris added quickly, realizing that this boy had no idea what he was talking about.

"Opening the body," the sandy haired boy repeated, his face turning paler.

"Listen, Mr. Longbottom I—"

"Neville."

"I'm sorry?"

"Neville. You can call me Neville."

"Right... Neville, Miss Malfoy is not well, and I want to keep her as relaxed and comfortable as possible. I can't have her becoming overwhelmed, anxious, upset or even just overly tired." Neville nodded in understanding. "That being said she doesn't want to see you. She's become exceptionally upset at the mention of seeing you, something I cannot allow in her current condition."

"What is her current condition?" Neville asked frowning.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot discuss my patient's medical care outside of family. It wouldn't be professional."

Dr. Harris turned to walk away, but Neville grabbed his arm stopping him.

"It doesn't make sense for you to be here," Neville frowned. "I-I'm sure you're a good doctor and that you're taking good care of Graces, but-but it doesn't make sense that you are caring for her and not a healer." Dr. Harris didn't say a word. "What's going on? I can't leave her without knowing. I won't."

"My patient does not wish to—"

"I don't care. I want to see her. If you don't allow me to see her I will tell the headmaster that I think something is going on here."

"What will happen if something was going on here?" Dr. Harris asked curiously.

"He would come and check on her."

"And if he saw she was in trouble?"

Neville let his hand drop from the doctor's arm and stared at the man curiously.

"What's going on?"

"The headmaster, is he a good man?" Dr. Harris asked.

"Yes," Neville said slowly. "Yes, he's... he's a very good man. A little eccentric, but he's good."

"Do you think he would harm Miss Malfoy?"

"No, of course not," Neville declared in disgust. "Why would he—"

"Neville, if he really is a good man maybe you should tell him to come."

Dr. Harris quickly began walking away leaving Neville standing there in confusion. He didn't understand why it was that no one wanted to get this girl real medical attention, but he wasn't going to throw away the first opportunity of really helping her.

"It's done," he clipped entering the room. "I told him it wouldn't be good for your health to receive visitors."

"And he accepted that?" Draco frowned.

Dr. Harris nodded and went back to the bed.

"Graces, I need to check your temperature again," Dr. Harris said reaching for the thermometer. "I'm still worried you may develop an infection."

Graces rolled her eyes, but allowed the muggle to place the thermometer in her mouth. She knew exactly what the doctor was going to say next. He was going to mutter about the unsterile environment, like her bed was filthy or something, and then he was going to go on and on about how if they were in a hospital they would have this and there would be that. It was getting to the point where she was glad her arm was dislocated or she would hex him for being annoying. Everything hurt and his constant chatter was not helping her.

Graces turned her head as the door to her room opened, expecting to see Thomas early, but stilled as she locked eyes with Neville. She felt as though time had frozen, like they were locked in a bubble. Draco was screaming and Dr. Harris was grabbing his hand to take his wand, but it all seemed so far away. What was near was how loud her heart was thumping, the sound of her breath, and while the world blurred Neville remained crystal clear.

Her insides twisted as he continued to stare at her in horror, unconsciously taking a step away from her, his mouth still gaping open from shock. She tried to hold still as his brown eyes raked her body and the area around her: the strange tubes going in and out of her body, the odd instruments on her dresser, orange bottles and clear bags. She didn't want to panic that he was there. He was there and that was it. This was it. She wanted to preserve what she had with him, keep him far away from this horror, so that he would always look at her with wondering eyes and now it was gone.

"What-what-why are you not at St. Mungos?!" Neville exclaimed, turning around and glaring at Draco. "Why is she not at St. Mungos!? Why is she not seeing a healer!? What's wrong with you?! LOOK AT HER!"

"Don't you think that if I could take her to see a healer I would!" Draco roared.

"THEN WHY ISN'T SHE WITH ONE!"

"IT'S COMPLICATED AND NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, LONGBOTTOM!"

"None of my business, huh?" Neville growled lowly. "None of my business, well apparently I need to make it my business since you're so much of a coward that you would let her suffer like that instead of getting her help!"

Graces watched in horror as Neville drew his wand on her brother. Draco shoved the doctor away and raised his, but before he could mutter a spell Neville disarmed him.

"Longbottom, I would advise you to put your wand away," Draco gritted, his silver eyes dangerously wild.

"Just don't give me a reason to use it, Malfoy," Neville said darkly. " Step away, Malfoy. If you can't care for her move aside and let me."

"You can't tell anyone," Draco reminded, his brow raised challenge. "You made an unbreakable vow."

"I'm not going to tell anyone," Neville whispered. "I'm taking her away."

"You can't."

"Why?" Neville bellowed.

"It's complicated," Draco muttered tightly.

"It doesn't look that complicated to me," Neville hissed, striding over to the bed, but keeping his wand level. "She's hurt. When someone's hurt like this you take them to St. Mungo's. You get them real medical attention!"

Graces yelped as Neville moved to lift her up. He hadn't even fully lifted her and she felt as though something in her leg and middle back was close to snapping.

"You cannot move her like this," Dr. Harris interjected, placing a gentle hand over the blankets on her chest. "If you just pick her up out of that bed you could kill her." Neville glared at the doctor and waited for him to continue. His nostrils flaring angrily as he kept his hands under her knees and back. "She has a tube in her chest, preventing her lung from collapsing, if you moved it out of place and it collapsed again she wouldn't be able to breath. If you picked her up and the sutures I made inside her ripped she would bleed out. She can't make a transfer. Just a few hours ago her heart stopped during surgery. I had to restart her heart and we had to put a breathing tube down her throat and breath for her until she woke up this morning. These things attached to her are tubes, tubes that need to be kept inside her. If you move her they will rip out. You. Can. Not. Move. Her."

Neville stilled, but he did not move his hands from under her. He seemed to be trying to rack his brain for another answer, a way to move her.

"You're h-hurting m-me," Graces whimpered, closing her eyes as the pain deepened. She felt Neville's hands move out from under her, but it all still hurt so much. Right where her left leg met her hip throbbed with newly awoken ache.

"Miss Malfoy?" Graces hummed a reply to the doctor's voice, still keeping her mouth tightly closed to stop herself from screaming out. "Is it hurting here?" Dr. Harris asked, placing his hand on the side of her leg and hip. Graces nodded and choked a bit on some of her tears. "May I realline it?" Graces shook her head. "It will ease some of the pain, if you let me."

"Just do it," Draco whispered curtly.

"No-no-no nononono," Graces wailed, moving her one hand out to push him away making sure not to apply pressure to her broken finger.

"You're sister is fully aware," Dr. Harris said taking a step back. "If she is not wanting me to perform a medical procedure and is of sound mind I can't go against her wishes without a guardian's approval."

"I'm the patriarch of the family," Draco huffed. "She is in my custody."

"Let me rephrase that," Dr. Harris began an edge to his voice. "I will not do any medical procedure on her if she is denying it with a sound mind and no parental guardian's approval."

"I-I'm sorry," Neville whispered, lowering his head in his hands and he sat in the empty chair by the bed. "I didn't mean to—"

"She already had the injury," Dr. Harris interrupted. "You didn't injure her any further. You just irritated it. It will mellow out in a moment or two."

"I want you out!" Draco demanded, turning round on Neville. "Get the fuck out! You could have killed her you could have—"

"I could have killed her?" Neville exclaimed in disbelief. "You're the one locking her up in here with no real medical care!"

"I didn't have a choice!"

"THERE IS ALWAYS A CHOICE!" Neville bellowed.

"If you believe that you're more of an idiot then I thought," Draco whispered venomously.

Neville angrily stood up from the chair and was about to make some sort of declaration, but before he could say another word he was on his knees clutching at his chest.

"What's happening to him!" Graces shrieked looking to the doctor who was now rolling Neville on his back and examining him.

"Neville, what hurts?" Dr. Harris asked, his stethoscope against the young boy's chest.

"Chest," Neville grunted, closing his eyes.

"Do you have a history of heart problems," Dr. Harris asked.

"No."

"Just a history of stupidity," Draco smirked. "Are you done thinking of telling someone, Longbottom?" Draco asked with false innocence.

Neville glared up from the floor at Draco defiantly before he gritted his teeth and groaned as more pain came to him.

"He's having a heart attack," the doctor whispered in disbelief.

"Help him," Graces sobbed. "Make it stop."

"Longbottom, can make this stop on his own," Draco shrugged. "All he needs to do is stop being an idiot."

"This isn't funny, Draco!" Graces shouted. "He could die!"

"If he does it's his own bloody fault," Draco muttered irritatedly.

"Longbottom, whatever foolish thing you are thinking of doing I demand you stop it right this instant!" Graces yelled, straining her own body as she yelled it.

Neville's eyes met with hers and for a brief moment she worried he would not listen that he would continue this foolish line of thinking until it killed him, but to her relief he stopped.

"What was that?" Dr. Harris asked accusingly glaring at Draco.

"He made an unbreakable vow to not tell anyone and was thinking of telling," Draco smirked. "Poor choice, Longbottom, let that be a lesson."

"I want everyone except Longbottom out of this room," Graces demanded, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

"Pfft, I'm not leaving your side," Draco scoffed.

"Yes you are," Graces seethed. Draco just rolled his eyes and sat back in the chair stubbornly. "Draco I want you to leave!" Graces croaked. "Right now! GET OUT! GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!

The bed shook with Graces' last declaration and a steady stream of blood started to come out of her nose.

"Draco," Dr. Harris broke in. "Remember what I told you about her remaining relaxed? About trying to keep her blood pressure down? We should leave. We can be right outside the door, if something goes wrong I'm sure Mr. Longbottom will retrieve us."

"Let her throw her fit. I am not leaving," Draco growled, sending a warning glare at his sister.

"Do you not see your sister's nose? That's a sign her blood pressure is up. You are causing more harm than good being here right now. Her heart cannot take this," Dr. Harris spat, taking Draco by the arm and dragging him to his feet. "We are leaving the room and we are not returning until she says we can."

Draco, who had taken Neville's time of need to regain his wand, angrily drew it at the doctor.

"Oh, yes. Do hurt me," Dr. Harris dared. "Go ahead. Hurt the only one here who knows how to treat your sister's injury. See how much use I am to you injured myself." Draco seem to glower at the doctor's statement, but put his wand down. "We are going to go outside and let your sister talk to Mr. Longbottom here. You're lucky with all that shouting and excitement her heart didn't become tachycardic or her lung didn't recollapse."

Draco angrily stomped to the door and Dr. Harris turned to Neville.

"If anything anything goes wrong you get me immediately. Do not try to move her and do not do any basic life support without me. Her ribs are broken. Doing it incorrectly can puncture her lungs. Understand?"

Neville nodded and slowly picked himself up from the floor.

"Good," Dr. Harris nodded curtly, before leaving the two of them alone.

"Are you okay?" Graces asked quietly.

"I think that's a question I should be asking you," Neville pointed out, staring wide eyed at the injuries she had obtained.

"I'm fine," Graces lied. "In a few days this will all be gone. I'll be the same as before." Neville didn't say anything, he just continued to stare off at her injuries. "Please stop looking at me like that," Graces hiccuped. "Please."

Neville sat down on the bed and moved his arms as though he were going to hold her, but stopped himself. Graces tried to sniff back her tears, but they continued to fall as Neville continued to look at her.

"He was going to kill Thomas," she whimpered. "Thomas and Octavian both. He-he let them live, but-but he was going to kill Thomas when he came for the meeting."

"What meeting?"

"The meeting to declare the Higgs' allegiance," Graces explained. "He-he was going to make an example of him. He never believed Thomas would be loyal to him after he slaughtered his family. He was going pretend like he was giving the Higgs family a chance to go on, but kill Thomas after he came forward. I-I couldn't let him kill Thomas. I couldn't. So-so I went to the meeting. Draco had no idea, I went without telling him." Neville didn't say a word. He closed his eyes and leaned down with his chin against his folded knuckles and nodded for Graces to continue. "I-I told the Dark Lord that Thomas was just a child, a child that needed to be taught and that if he gave me a chance I could ensure Thomas would be one of his most devoted followers."

"And how do you plan on managing that?" Neville asked tightly, still not looking at her.

Graces was silent for a few moments. "I am to be held responsible for Thomas' actions and thoughts," Graces whispered quietly.

"So his love for you will be dangled over his head," Neville surmised. "He'll obey, because he won't want you harmed. Jesus Christ."

Graces nodded her head and decided to not tell Neville the part about her taking the mark in the summer.

"He would have killed him," she whispered.

"What happened next?"

"I was punished for Thomas' trespasses... and then for Draco's..."

Graces watched as Neville closed his eyes tightly and knew he was trying not to cry. He nodded at her explanation, but didn't seem able to open his mouth.

"How were you punished?" he asked tightly, not bothering to try and take a breath with the question. Graces couldn't bring herself to answer. She, like Neville, was now holding her breath trying to keep back her tears. After a long silence, Neville turned to her tearfully and began asking. "Did they beat you?" She nodded. "Did they curse you?" Again she nodded. "Did-did they c-cruciate you?" Graces took a shuddering breath and looked up at the ceiling so she didn't have to see Neville's face when she again confirmed what had happened. She closed her eyes as she heard him choke back his sobs and once again found herself wishing he wasn't there. "Did-did they-did they rape you?" he forced out.

"No. No, that didn't happen. I didn't do anything to warrant that."

"Graces," Neville choked. "Nothing you could have done would have warranted that. If-if that happened you can tell me. It would change nothing about how I feel for you. Nothing. I-I just want to know so-so I can help you."

"That didn't happen!" Graces protested. She could tell Neville didn't believe her. He just nodded his head and continued to cry into his hands. "It didn't happen. It didn't," Graces continued, now crying herself. "Go ask the muggle. He examined me. He'll tell you. You can look yourself. It didn't happen. My family hasn't fallen that far. I am still considered respectable, they wouldn't dare do such a thing to a respectable pureblood witch. I'm not ruined!"

"Graces, you wouldn't be ruined," Neville sobbed. "I swear you wouldn't be."

"Longbottom, you stop this right now. I'm still wearing your ring. You said so long as I had it on that wouldn't happen right?"

"The ring isn't on you," Neville sputtered.

Graces frowned and looked down at her left hand. She really couldn't feel anything in her ring finger it was broken, but it was swelled up and there was no ring indentation.

"Go get the muggle," she demanded. "Just him, tell him I want him to readjust my pillow."

Neville stood up and hurriedly wiped his eyes before going to the door and quietly requesting the doctor.

"Miss Malfoy, I think the position you are in now is as comfortable as I can make you without resetting some of those bones," Dr. Harris said tiredly, moving to her bed side and grabbing a pillow off another girls bed.

"Where is my ring?" Graces asked accusingly. "I never take it off. Where is it? I know I had it last night."

Dr. Harris frowned and took a deep breathe to calm himself down, before answering.

"I did not steal your ring. Your finger is broken. I had to remove it before it swelled to the point where I would have to saw the ring off you." Dr. Harris moved to her nightstand and opened the dresser drawer taking out the simple ring."It's right here. Safely tucked away."

Graces looked over to Neville and gave him an 'I told you so look" before dismissing the doctor to leave. Dr. Harris seemed beyond irritated, but left the two alone. Neville didn't look that much better after Dr. Harris left to Graces' surprise. She had hoped that bit of information would give him some relief, but Neville seemed to have a storm brewing around him.

"Why aren't you at St. Mungo's?"

"The Dark Lord was very specific," she said quietly. "No magical care and no medical treatment for the pain for three days. He's sending a message." Graces felt a pit in her stomach open as Neville scrunched his face and turned the other way. She knew he was crying she could see his shoulders shaking and his left hand was raised to his face. "It's okay. I'm okay."

"You are not okay, Graces," Neville moaned. "You are very far from okay. That... that muggle that doctor is right. You are not well, Graces," Neville was now facing her "You died last night. Died. Your heart stopped and he had to figure out a way to breathe for you. You were dead."

"I don't know what you want me to say. I did what I had to do. I don't regret this. Thomas is family to me. Octavian is my godson. What was I supposed to do?"

Neville looked down at her morosely. She could see how sickened he was at the sight of her brokenness; how awful he felt that she was in agony, but there was something else in his eyes. Something that made her skin prickle and her heart fluttered nervously. She felt like she was soaring up on her broom and she was standing still at the same time. It made her intoxicatedly dizzy.

"I don't want you in pain," Neville murmured, taking a seat on the bed and gingerly placing his hand over hers. "Gods above and below I can't stand seeing you like this."

"You're being dramatic."

Neville gave her a look that made her wonder how awful she really looked, but he refrained from saying anything.

"The doctor seems like a nice man," he commented after a long silence.

"He's a butcher," Graces corrected, angrily staring forward. "A bloody butcher."

"He saved your life."

"He sliced me open like a fish and sewed me up like a second hand quilt," Graces whispered tightly. "He's not a man of healing, he's a—"

"He saved your life," Neville reminded. "He saved you, Graces. I'm sure whatever he did was to keep you alive."

"You have no idea what he did," Graces shuddered. "None."

Neville's eyes wandered down to her abdomen that was covered under the blanket. She knew he wanted to see. That he wanted to lift up the sheets and look at what was done to her, but he didn't ask. He averted his eyes and stared at the palms of his hands.

"He wanted me to not see you," Neville whispered. "He asked me if the headmaster was a good man. If he would hurt you. When I said he was a good man he said that I should get you... but I didn't. I-I came in here instead. I should have left for help."

"No. If you had I would have been in even more trouble," Graces comforted. "I would have been killed. Draco would have been killed." Graces was silent for a moment, unsure of how much she wanted to tell Neville. She certainly couldn't tell him Snape would be killed. "And a whole year of our house would have been killed."

"Why didn't you want me to come?" Neville whispered.

"A multitude of reasons," Graces sighed.

"Like what?"

"I didn't want people to catch on," Graces shrugged, diverting her eyes from his.

"They just think I'm some pathetic fool trying at a girl I have no chance with."

Graces smirked and then hissed as her lip re-split open. Neville hurriedly reached in his trousers and dabbed the blood away with his handkerchief. Graces watched as her blood dyed the end of the white cloth. She remembered once that he had become queasy at the sight of blood in potions class and looked up to see if he still didn't have the stomach for such things. But Neville didn't seem to mind. His brow was furrowed only in concern and his brown eyes were soft, even when they were darkening with horror.

"It's just a cut lip," she mumbled against the cloth.

"I love these lips," Neville smiled, removing the cloth and kissing her softly. "I can't let my favorite lips just bleed out and not do anything."

Graces blushed and tried to not think of how much she longed for that kiss, the kiss that told her that even after Neville had seen her like this he could still kiss her and look at her with the same romantic wondering. Graces held Neville's brown eyes with her own silver ones and for the first time since she had seen the Dark Lord nothing hurt.

"Kiss me again," she requested, leaning up breathlessly.

"Gladly," Neville chuckled, moving as close as he dared and continuing to kiss her in the same soft tender manner. Graces found herself searching out Neville's lips immediately after they moved from hers and it thrilled her that when she moved back for them they were never far away. Neville gladly kissed her all she wanted and she could feel his breath becoming warmer on her lips while his fingers roamed her neck.

"We should take a break," she panted. "I-I feel really dizzy."

"Oh, gods, right. Just lean back," Nevill ordered, taking a cool towel on the nightstand and placing it on her head. Graces closed her eyes and tried to relax against the cool cloth. "I can't believe I almost lost you," Neville said faintly, kissing the good corner of her mouth. "Graces, I don't know what I wo—"

"Don't start crying on me again, Longbottom," Graces breathed tiredly. "I'm not lost. I'm here and I currently need you to help me forget that I am in pain. Take my pain away," Graces whispered, leaning up again and kissing his bottom lip.

Neville frowned and ran through what she just said. He remembered hearing her say that before. He remembered her wanted to be rid of her pain asking him to take it away.

"What are you doing?" Graces asked, as he hurried over to his school bag.

"I almost forgot. I-I got you something," he said excitedly.

"You got something for me?" Graces asked. "Like a gift?"

"Yes," Neville smiled, taking out a box of chocolate cauldrons. "A gift."

"Oh, that's-that's so kind," Graces nodded awkwardly. "And those are my favorite. I have no idea how you knew, but-but I'm not really hungry and—"

"Graces," Neville said gently. "There is a good shot of alcohol in each of these chocolate shells." Graces nodded, but Neville knew she didn't understand what he was getting at. "You can't have anything medicinal for the pain," Neville reiterated slowly, "but firewhiskey and chocolate... that's another thing."

"I-I don't know," Graces said nervously turning away.

"Graces," Neville urged, caressing her cheek. "Trust me."


	47. Chapter 47

"Do you remember the first time we ever drank together?" Graces asked as Neville bit the top off another chocolate cauldron and lifted the shell filled with firewhisky to her lips to drink.

"No, I completely forgot," Neville deadpanned, giving Graces a patronizing look. "Please, remind me. Was it in the greenhouse?"

"Don't tease me," Graces smiled breathlessly, sipping the liquid and twisting her mouth as it burned down her throat. "I'm drunk, had muggle surgery, had my heart stop and have a mild concussion. I'm allowed to be a bit forgetful."

"I guess," Neville chuckled.

"So?"

"So what?" Neville asked patiently.

"Do you remember? Do you remember all of it?"

Neville frowned at the question. "What do you mean all if it?"

"Well, we were drinking," Graces blushed. "We were really drunk. Are parts a bit fuzzy for you? Or are things missing?"

Neville mouthed 'oh' as he realized what Graces was getting at and placed the box of chocolates down before sitting on the bed with her.

"I remember every single detail," he replied, holding Graces eyes with his. "Every detail."

Graces blushed at his intensity and looked down for a moment before facing him again.

"I-I can't stop thinking of that night," she admitted quietly. "I keep having it pop into my thoughts." Graces seemed distant for a moment, as though that night was once again intruding on her. "Do you think that things would have been different if-if I hadn't been drinking or if I hadn't offered you a drink?" she asked nervously.

"Yes."

Neville watched as Graces' face seemed to crumble at the definiteness of his answer, but he remained quiet. He wondered what Graces was trying to get at with her line of questioning and he had a feeling he was going to learn more of the workings of her mind if he remained silent and allowed her to continue on her own.

"In what way do you think things would have been different?" she asked, staring up at him timidly.

"Well," Neville sighed. "You would have never been that open with me for one. You would have never joked around with me and I never would have dared kiss you."

"Oh," Graces breathed disappointed.

"Not that I wouldn't have wanted to," Neville smiled kindly. "I had a bit of a thing for you before the greenhouse. It's just that, well, the fire whiskey definitely helped. I could never have just kissed you like that without it."

"You did?" Graces asked, a hint of excitement sparkling in her silver eyes.

"Yeah, I did," Neville chuckled. "I was growing very fascinated by you."

"Because I'm so pretty?" Graces teased.

Neville smiled at her humor and wondered if he should tell Graces all the reasons he had been thinking of her so long ago.

"Because you were smart and I had this strong feeling there was so much more to you than what you allowed the world to see," Neville murmured quietly. "I really don't know what it was, but I couldn't stop thinking of you. That night when I went to the greenhouse it was because I couldn't stop thinking of you."

"You were mad at me that day," Graces nodded. "About the paper. You were upset that I wrote it without you..."

"I was, but I definitely was not mad at the end of the night," Neville winked, moving his thumb in circles on the top of her hand. Neville grinned as she blushed and wondered when he became the type of guy that winked and had a pretty girl becoming bashful at what he said.

"You've never felt a moment of regret about what we did?" Graces whispered.

"No, I haven't," Neville promised. "I would go back and do everything exactly the same."

Graces looked up at him and seemed to be searching for any hint that what he was saying wasn't true. Neville knew she wouldn't find anything though. He loved her. He had never loved anyone like he loved her and that feeling was worth everything in his mind. If given the chance he would have done everything exactly the same that night. He would have sat down and drank with her. He would have leaned in and kissed her. He would have embarrassed himself all over again and said deflowered everything.

"I don't regret anything either," Graces divulged quietly, breaking the long silence. "Not anymore, at least. I'm glad you came in that night. I'm glad we..." Graces let her words dwindle off and closed her eyes fro the strength to continue with her next sentence. "I'm glad you're here now."

"I'm glad too," Neville agreed, leaning in and kissing her cheek softly. "I'm also very glad that I came up with the idea to get you a bit pissed today."

Graces giggled at Neville's humor and leaned back contently as he continued to hold her hand.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Neville asked, deciding that if Graces was giggling she may be well enough to tuck in some dinner.

"No, my throat hurts something awful," Graces sighed.

"You may feel better if you ate," Neville urged. "Maybe something small like some broth?"

"It really hurts," Graces protested. "I can barely swallow."

"You have no problems swallowing that firewhisky," Neville pointed out, giving Graces a stern look.

"That's worth it," Graces shrugged. "I can't feel my nose right now. Firewhisky is helpful, broth will just make me sick. My insides... they feel odd. I'm in a lot of pain. I don't want to eat anything."

Neville hummed out his displeasure and was about to insist she at least try some broth when Dr. Harris came into the room.

"I need to change the dressing on your sutures," he said apologetically. Moving to the other side of the bed and pulling out supplies he would need. "Also, you should be aware your brother is becoming very upset you have yet to invite him back into the room." Dr. Harris paused when he turned back to the couple and stared at Neville for a long while. "Mr. Longbottom," he began, a curt edge to his voice. "You have a bit of blood on your lips and jaw."

Neville blushed and quickly shot his hand up to his face. Dr. Harris didn't ease up on his glare though.

"I suggest you wash up," he quipped, nodding his head towards the loo.

Neville nodded embarrassedly and went to do just that. He all of the sudden was very happy Dr. Harris had not brought Draco into the room as he looked at the blood stained lip mark on his jawline. He imagined that if Graces' brother had seen him like this the doctor would be tending to two patients for the next few days.

"I believe I said she needed rest, relaxation and no excitement," Dr. Harris reminded, angrily turning on the tap to fill a bowl with hot water.

"I-I'm sorry, I—"

"Do none of you understand what is going on?" he hissed. "She is awake and talking, but she is not out of the woods. Nowhere near. That girl out there has suffered. She has suffered physically and I know she is suffering emotionally. And the last thing she needs is some young boy pawing at her unable to keep his hormones in check!"

"I did not paw at her," Neville said defensively. "I-I just kissed her. It wasn't anything like what you're thinking. I just kissed her."

"I think it's best you left for the night," Dr. Harris advised sourly. "I need to change Miss Malfoy's dressings and then she needs to sleep."

"What? No. No, please don't make me leave. Please," Neville begged. "I'll—"

"It really should only be family in the room," Dr. Harris broke in. "Draco is beside himself out there. Poor kid is a wreck worrying over his sister and you're in there—"

"I was just trying to make her feel better," Neville swore. "I care about her too. I do. I love her. I would never do anything that would hurt her. I love her."

Dr. Harris seemed to be trying to gather himself. Neville could tell he was angry and he had a feeling that despite how respected he was in the muggle world, he was having a difficult time not having that same respect here. Neville knew he was angry, he had this annoyed look to him similar to his head of house when they were acting up, but he also in odd ways reminded him of Lupin.

"Neville," he said patiently, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "I want the truth. What is going on with you and her? Her brother seems to be under the impression that she greatly dislikes you and that you are infatuated with her."

Neville blushed and looked down at his shoes. He really didn't know how to explain his relationship with Graces. It was long and complicated.

"Have-have you ever read that muggle book," he began quietly. "Romeo and Juliet?"

"Yes," Dr. Harris nodded, "It's a classic."

"Well, it's like that," Neville explained. "We... well, at least I, love her, and we aren't supposed to be together."

"Because your families hate each other?"

"Her aunt tortured my parents into insanity," Neville murmured. "Our families are on opposite sides of this war. Her father tried to kill me last year too. We should never have happened, but we did."

"War?" Dr. Harris repeated. "Was... is she hurt because of war?"

"What have they told you?" Neville frowned.

"Nothing."

"I see." Neville murmured. "I-I can't explain it all, but I'll try to explain some of it." Dr. Harris nodded and waited for Neville to arrange his thoughts. "There's this dark wizard," Neville whispered quietly as though he were afraid of being heard. "And he's... he's been trying to conquer the wizarding world. He wants to purify our blood lines, kill all the muggleborn and subjugate non-magical people and magical creatures. He's a madman: cruel, evil, sadistic. He's been trying to get into power. Graces' father was one of his loyal subjects, but he was arrested last year. Since his arrest He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has put the twins under his thumb."

"And he's the one who hurt her?"

Neville nodded defeatedly and picked at a callous on his hand. Dr. Harris continued to stand there in silence mulling over what he had just learned. He had a million questions now. He felt like his head could burst from everything he had seen and heard in the past hours. Draco had been extremely tight lipped about everything, in some ways it was nice to have someone around that didn't mind talking to him.

"I can bring you a book tomorrow," Neville offered. "You can read it to better understand what this war is about."

"I'd appreciate that," Dr. Harris nodded.

"Are they treating you alright?" Neville asked.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose."

Neville was unsure of what to make of that statement. He was about to ask the doctor what he meant, but before he could the man was picking up the bowl and heading back to Graces. Neville followed him out as he set up his tools by the bed.

"You should go," Graces muttered tightly. "Please tell Draco to come in."

"I'd rather stay," Neville ventured reaching for Graces' hand.

"You may not though," Graces retorted curtly moving her arm away. "You have seen that I am well and I now want you to leave."

"No need to put on a show on my behalf," Dr. Harris sang, examining the length of some bandages.

Graces turned and glared at Neville.

"There was a bloody kiss mark on my jaw," Neville asserted. "The jig was up."

"Don't worry Juliet I shall not tell Tybalt of your Romeo," Dr. Harris continued under his breath.

Graces turned up her nose and continued with her touch-me-not attitude. When Neville again moved to take her hand she once again took it away.

"Please send my brother in," she ordered stiffly.

"Graces—"

"I want Draco," Graces bit out angrily. "I want my brother and-and I think it's best you leave."

Dr. Harris frowned at Graces' harsh remarks and looked over to Neville sympathetically.

"She's self-conscious about her stitches," he offered despite himself.

"I'm self-conscious about the total mutilation of my abdomen!" Graces screamed. "You-you mangled me!" Graces accused.

"Graces, I'm sure that isn't true," Neville comforted, ignoring Graces' temper and kissing her hand.

"Just go away," Graces simpered. "I-I want Draco. It's not fair for him to be away from me like this anyways."

Neville sighed and kissed her cheek despite her angry words.

"I will come back tomorrow," he promised. "Do you want me to bring anything?" Graces shook her head, but Neville continued on. "Maybe some more firewhisky for the pain? I could get my hands on something else if you wanted though. Maybe some wine?"

"Did you give her alcohol?" Dr. Harris broke in, now moving close to Graces' mouth and smelling her breath. "You should not be having alcohol when you are on antibiotics," Dr. Harris scolded looking to both teenagers. "They don't mix well."

"I feel fine," Graces shrugged.

"You feel fine now," Dr. Harris pointed out. "You may not feel fine later. You may be facing a very difficult night, Miss Malfoy: stomach ache, throwing up and a very bad headache. Not to mention I am going to have to keep even more of an eye on your heart rate. One of the antibiotics you are on when mixed with alcohol can cause your heart to race. This may have done more harm than good."

"Me head hurt well before the alcohol. It hurts less now," Graces muttered, clearly not caring about what Dr. Harris was saying. "I think you just want me in pain."

"I do not want you in pain," Dr. Harris groaned. "I want you well. The antibiotics are important. They are what's keeping the infection away. The alcohol isn't going to stop them from working, but if you are throwing up they won't be in your system and if the alcohol mixed with one of your antibiotics can make your heart rate go up then we could be looking at more problems. Your heart is still weak."

"If-if it doesn't cause any of that. If we are careful can she have it?" Neville asked, not wanting Graces to be in pain, but also not wanting to go against the muggle's medical advice.

Dr. Harris seemed hesitant, but nodded in agreement.

"We will see how your heart does tonight and I will take you off the bactrim, I guess it's not needed since you have insisted I remove the catheter. That would have been the only antibiotic that would have affected your heart."

"Catheter?" Neville asked. "What's a—"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself about," Graces broke in curtly, staring daggers at the physician before turning back to Neville. "Please send my brother in. I think it's best you left. Thomas and Octavian will be here soon."

"Alright," Neville sighed. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Longbottom, you can't come back," Graces sighed. "It's just not—"

"I'll be back."

"No one will allow you back in."

"I will figure something out," Neville promised. "I'll be back."

Graces nodded and faced forward at her feet as he walked away to the door. She seemed to be vibrating all over as Dr. Harris moved the sheet up and examined her stomach. Neville wondered what it was she was so terrified of. Dr. Harris seemed to be especially kind as he examined her and it didn't look like he was hurting her. His hand had disappeared under the sheet and he seemed to be asking how the pressure of his hand felt on her stomach, but still Graces seemed frightened.

"Malfoy," Neville began, opening the door, but not leaving the room. "She's asking for—"

Neville didn't get the chance to finish his statement before Draco was striding inside the room shoving him away. Neville gritted his teeth and moved to leave the room, but before he took a step out Draco called him into the room.

"Longbottom, just come here," Draco ordered, standing over his sister's bed. Graces seemed to be a bit confused and looked hesitantly at Neville before nodding for him to come. "Dr. Harris, earlier you asked me how our medical care is different from muggles," Draco began politely. "Would you still like for me to explain?"

Dr. Harris took his hand out from under the sheets and looked over at Draco hesitantly.

"I would. Yes."

"Excellent," Draco smiled, before bringing his arm back and punching Neville hard right in the nose.

"Jesus Christ!" Dr. Harris exclaimed rushing from around the bed to Neville's side. "You broke his nose!"

"Draco!" Graces shrieked, gasping as Neville's blood pooled out into his hands.

"Now, Dr. Harris as you can see Longbottom's nose is broken," Draco lectured, pacing around the floor and tapping his wand on his palm.

"'Malfoy, you rotten bastard!" Neville groaned, yelping as Dr. Harris moved his nose to better examine it.

"Sorry, Longbottom, I have no idea what you are saying. Anyways moving on. The first thing you should know Dr. Harris is that we need to get the patient to hold still. Petrificus totalus," Draco cast lazily, causing Neville to go as stiff as a board.

"Draco, you stop this right this second!" Graces exclaimed, sitting up in the bed despite Dr. Harris yelling at her to lie down.

"Hold on," Draco motioned. "I'm almost finished, now we just need to fix the nose. Episkey," Draco cast, flourishing his wand happily.

Graces and Dr. Harris both flinched at the loud crunch that came with Neville's nose being reset. Neville groaned for a few seconds before getting up angrily.

"Damn, I thought the petrification would hold through the fix," Draco muttered, frowning at his wand. "I'm losing my touch."

"Draco! You can't just do things like that!" Graces cried.

"It's just Longbottom," Draco shrugged, still frowning at his wand while Dr. Harris continued to poke at Neville's nose in astonishment.

"Malfoy, I swear to the gods I'm going to—"

"Careful, Longbottom," Draco sang, waltzing over to Graces' Quidditch bag and taking out a blue jar. "If you're nasty to me I won't allow you to use some bruising salve for your eyes."

"I don't want a bloody bruising salve," Neville roared, wiping the blood from under his nose and gripping around his robes for his wand which was at once disarmed from him once he took it out.

"Go ahead, Longbottom," Draco dared. "Get your wand."

Neville stood in the middle of the room his chest pumping up and down from his angry breathes. Neville moved to reach for his wand, but before he bent down to retrieve it his eyes met with Graces' and she shook her head.

"Come on, Longbottom," Draco goated. "Where's your Gryffindor courage?"

"That is enough," Dr. Harris snapped walking over and taking the salve aggressively from Draco. As angry as he was trying to seem at the situation there was this giddiness to him as he rubbed the salve under Neville's eyes and watched the bruising completely disappear.

"Remarkable," the physician breathed.

"Would you like to see what happens when we tear some skin?" Draco asked excitedly, raising his wand.

"Draco don't you dare!" Graces shouted.

"Why are you crying?" Draco frowned. "It's just Longbottom. He's the reason our father is in jail. He's the one who—"

"Your sister was almost beaten to death," Dr. Harris said coldly, shielding Neville with his own body to prevent Draco from hurting him further. "I am sure she doesn't want to watch any brutality at the moment. Especially when such brutality mimics what I imagine she herself had to endure."

Draco looked over at his sister, but the blonde seemed beyond consultation at the moment.

"Longbottom, in that first dresser I have some handkerchiefs," Graces rasped. "You're welcome to use one and get cleaned up before you go."

Neville nodded and moved to the dresser.

"I'm sure Longbottom has his own," Draco broke in.

"Draco," Graces breathed, closing her eyes. "Not now."

Draco gritted his teeth, but said nothing more as Neville awkwardly took one of Graces' laced handkerchiefs out and wiped away the blood.

"I think it's best you leave now, Longbottom," Graces continued, refusing to meet Neville's eyes. "Thank you for the firewhiskey, but—"

"Firewhiskey?" Draco broke in.

"For the pain," Dr. Harris explained. "Mr. Longbottom figured out a loophole."

Neville for a brief moment wondered if he saw a flash of gratitude in Draco's eyes, but as quickly as it came it was replaced with the blonde's typical look of hatred.

"As I was saying," Graces choked. "I want you to leave."

"Right," Neville nodded, turning towards the door. Graces' handkerchief clutched tightly in his palm. He didn't want to leave. He couldn't imagine the next few days without seeing her, knowing she was in pain. "I'll-I'll see you tomorrow."

"No you won't," Draco protested coldly.

"Malfoy," Neville began turning around and facing the blonde. "The agreement was I wouldn't tell, but make no mistake I will stand outside the Slytherin common room and demand to be allowed in until you all fold. I really doubt you want me drawing any attention, so face the fact now that you will be seeing a lot of me until she's well."

"She doesn't want you here she—"

"I can make her feel better," Neville stressed. " I can figure out more things to give her to help with the pain. I already have an idea for her throat. I get that you hate me. I get that she finds me annoying, but I can help. Let me help."

Draco twisted his mouth and seemed to biting down some nasty remark. Neville held his breath as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to his sister.

"Do you want his help?" Draco asked, turning to his sister.

Graces' lip trembled as she wrestled with that question. Neville knew she was going to say no. She would always side with Draco and Draco didn't want him there. He had made that very clear. Still he knew she wanted to say yes. Neville knew she wanted him there.

"It's not an option," Neville spat the moment Graces' shook her head. "I am coming back tomorrow," he vowed slamming the door.

Neville had maybe taken two steps away from the room when Draco came barreling out the door and slamming him to the wall. A couple witches sitting elegantly at a table in an old oil painting cried out in outrage as their frame tipped sideways on the wall from the force.

"What are you playing at, Longbottom?" Draco gritted, pulling Neville forward only to push him back into the wall harder.

"Wh-what? Nothing!"

"You're a bad liar," Draco growled. Neville stilled and diverted his eyes as Draco bared his teeth and flared his nostrils wildly. He had read somewhere once that you shouldn't look an enraged animal in the eye and he had a feeling the same rule applied here. "I want to know what you think is going to happen."

"I just want to help," Neville repeated shakily.

"Yeah, well, I don't want you thinking that helping my sister will get you into her knickers!" Draco snarled, sending a bit of spittle on Neville's cheek.

"I-I'm not trying to—"

"Save it, Longbottom. Do you think you're the first one to want my sister? You think I don't notice the way you and other guys covet her?" _Don't look him in the eye. Don't look him in the eye._ "My sister is not for you. She has better prospects, better opportunities, a better future. She would never want you. Don't think that because you showed up here in her hour of need it will change things between you two. Graces is my responsibility and I would _never_ allow her to throw away her life on a waste of space like you. Not that I think she would ever even entertain the thought, but if you think you can play hero and get her to start looking at you, mark my words. I would kill you long before I allowed it."

"I just want to help her," Neville insisted.

"I know what you want and helping her isn't the end of it."

"Merlin's beard, Malfoy," Neville breathed, daring to look up at the boy close to killing him. "What kind of a man do you think I am?" Draco didn't say a word, just continued to stare at Neville's brown eyes challenging. "Yeah, I do fancy your sister," Neville admitted, ignoring the way Draco's hands tightened on his collarbone. "But I'm not trying to help her because I want anything from her. Do you honestly think that I'm trying to ease her pain so that I can be invited into her bed?" Neville felt some of the tension on his collarbone ease. "I just want to help her."

"She doesn't want your help."

"She doesn't want to go against _you_ ," Neville stressed. "She would rather suffer than say she disagrees. She had no problem accepting my help when you were on the other end of that door. She was grateful." Draco seemed to falter in his anger and Neville hurriedly continued before the blonde lashed out. "I want to help her. I want to take away her pain, not because I fancy her, but because what happened to her isn't right."

"I can take care of my sister," Draco rasped.

"And the first step to doing that is to allow me to help," Neville pleaded. "She will not accept my help without your blessing. Malfoy, just let me help her."

Draco seemed to be wrestling with himself over the idea. Neville tried not to notice how much it reminded him of Graces. The only thing missing in their expressions was the way Graces bit her lip, though it appeared Draco was biting the inside of his cheek.

"Fine," Draco relented, giving Neville a final push into the wall before releasing his hold on him. "Come tomorrow, but don't you dare think this changes anything between us, Longbottom. Or that what you are doing is so noble. If my father was still here none of this would be happening to her."

Neville held his tongue from arguing that Lucius Malfoy did all of this himself and just nodded noncommittally as he cautiously moved away from the wall. He still had a funny shiver running down his spine from Draco's proximity. The blonde had yet to remove his eyes from him and his muscles were tensed as though he were ready to pounce on him.

"She needs something for her back," Draco mentioned with an ordering tone. "The skin is all torn up and burned."

"Burned?" Neville frowned.

"The muggle seems to think at one point she tried to run away and was then dragged against the ground. It's not her whole back, but a good portion on the right side. It looks like it hurts, but we can't put any kind of magical salve on it. The muggle he-he put alcohol on to clean it. He keeps cleaning it and it's drying the skin out. It's hurting her more, but he's insistent that it remains clean."

"I'll figure something out," Neville nodded.

There was a long silence following Draco's demand and Neville fidgeted in place waiting for more. It was odd how comfortable he was with Graces and how uncomfortable he was with Draco. He felt like he knew the boy standing in front of him. Knew him oddly well, but at the same time he didn't. Or wasn't supposed to. One of those.

"Why are you so infatuated with my sister?"

Neville tried not to show how uncomfortable that question made him and tightened his lips and pretending to sink in the ground.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Do-do you always know why you like someone?"

"I don't fancy anyone," Draco droned. "But I'm sure if I did I would know why."

"She's smart," Neville offered, deciding to stay far away from anything intimate or anything that would get him punched.

"Granger is smart."

"Yeah, well, I used to fancy her too," Neville shrugged.

Draco made some noise that indicated his disgust before shoving Neville to leave. Which the Gryffindor did gladly. Neville realized he had a lot of work to do for the night if he was going to be bringing things to help Graces tomorrow. He didn't have a clue as to what he could use for the burns without being able to make a potion, so he planned to just go straight to the library and hopefully find something in time to order what he needed.

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"You need sleep," Dr. Harris droned, leaning back in the chair as his eyes became impossibly heavy. "Sleep has been proven to help heal the body faster."

"I'm not tired."

"I don't believe that," Dr. Harris yawned. "You have to be exhausted. Also, natural sleep will take away your discomfort."

Graces didn't answer, just continued to lay in her bed staring into the bassinet beside her. Dr. Harris looked over at the sleeping child and wished the girl in front of him would do the same.

"He's cute," Dr. Harris smiled, sitting up to brush the child's cheek.

"Don't touch him," Graces hissed, straining herself as though she wanted to slap his hand away. "Don't."

Dr. Harris awkwardly took his hand away and sat back in the chair.

"I wouldn't hurt him," he said offended.

The physician could tell the girl didn't believe him, but she didn't say anything as to why she didn't. He sat in the chair glaring at her wanting an explanation. Her brother and Thomas were a sleep in the beds around her and he noticed any time he got up to check her IV, take her temperature or just go to the loo she would look over to them. As though she suspected she would need to scream for their help.

"Why are you frightened of me?"

"I'm not," Graces clipped. "I'm a witch. Two words and you would be dead. I'm not frightened of you."

Dr. Harris raised an eyebrow, but decided not to argue.

"Why do you dislike me? I have done nothing but try to help you."

"Because your kind kills my kind," Graces whispered, her eyes trained on the sleeping babe. "I'm not afraid of you, your kind is afraid of us and it is that fear that has driven us into hiding."

"You hide because we are afraid of you," Dr. Harris said skeptically. "It sounds like it's the other way around."

"You fear us so you kill us," Graces said simply. "We're not safe in your world and you outnumber us so we hide."

"That sounds like we are all a bit afraid of one another."

Graces looked over at him for a moment, the black and blue part of her face hidden in darkness while the less beaten side flickered in the light of the fire. Dr. Harris stared at the silver eye hatefully glaring at him and wondered what it was that made her and the others in the room have so much contempt for him.

"I can read your mind," Graces divulged, a bored tone to her voice as though Dr. Harris should have known she had this ability. "I would think the answer is obvious."

"And what is the answer," Dr. Harris asked patiently, ignoring the voice in his head to drop the subject so that she would gain some rest.

"You burned us at the stakes," Graces said thickly. "You drowned us in lakes. You-you threw magical babies into fireplaces. Your religion says we corrupt the soul. That we-we are less. Evil." she choked. "It encouraged you to kill us. We are in hiding because of you," Graces added softly.

"Hiding?" Dr. Harris frowned.

Graces looked at him curiously for a few moments. Dr. Harris felt like he was back in his residency and his attendee was sizing him up. Her silver eyes seemed to be trying to evaluate his worthiness, as if this information may be too much for him to understand and she didn't want to waste her time explaining it.

"There's this song that we sing during a festival. A duet of sorts," she explained offhandedly. "It's about the time before the separation of the magical world from yours. The song is about living in such dark times among you muggles and clinging to faith. Faith that the Gods would watch over us so long as we practiced the old ways. We found strength in our magic, in ourselves as a people. Not allowing the fears of men to touch our hearts and make us fear ourselves. Which wasn't always an easy task."

"You hated us," Graces whispered angrily. "Your church proclaimed us as evil and scapegoated us for all the wicked worldly problems. It was becoming harder and harder to practice magic. We were losing one another. All of us were in hiding, so that people like you would not find out who we were as we walked among you."

"Can you imagine what that kind of life was like? Living in a world that hated you. That told you everything you were was evil. It's lonely living a lie," Graces added in a hushed tone.

"If you're in hiding you can't find others," Graces continued. "We were slowly dying out. Between you killing us and you isolating us we couldn't come up from the ground. We would meet when we could. Usually in fields on special holidays. It was for many of us the only interaction we could have with others who were magical, the only time to meet and learn knew things."

Dr. Harris watched as Graces jaw clenched.

"Our lives were in shadows back then. We were in the shadow of your church, creeping along the walls hoping to not be seen. In the shadows of our own homes, praying that no one would notice anything peculiar and begin whispering around the community of what we were. There was light, but it was so far away from us. It was more an idea then it was a real concept. Freedom, openness those were things many of us never even hoped to achieve. While we would look at each other and see nothing but beauty in what we could achieve, you would look at us and see evil."

"We were abominations," Graces rasped. "Do you have any idea what you muggles do to "abominations"?

"I have an idea," Dr. Harris nodded.

"If we didn't figure out a way to separate ourselves from you worst things would have been done to us than what has been done to me," Graces growled lowly.

"I'm sorry that happened," Dr. Harris murmured quietly, as the fire cracked behind him. "None of that was right. We have long since said what we did to people back then was wrong. No one would—"

"You all have said it was wrong because we have done an incredibly amount of work to discredit all evidence that the people back then were right," Graces scoffed. "If your world found out tomorrow that it had indeed been witches burned and that sorcery was real there is a very good chance you would not all believe what was done was wrong. The only reason you are all unanimous in the belief that what you did was barbaric and a sin against humanity is because you think magic isn't real and those people killed were like you."

"Maybe," Dr. Harris acknowledged quietly. "But I wouldn't be one of those people. I don't think it's right for harm to come to you because of your abilities."

"I'm not scared of you, Graces," Dr. Harris said gently as the girl before him stared at him. "I wish you weren't afraid of me."

Graces' face lost some of it's harshness for a brief moment, before the girl fixed herself back to her cold demeanor and declared that she was tired and going to sleep. Dr. Harris nodded and watched as the blonde pretended to drift off. Dr. Harris sat in the chair for a few moments watching her face before his eyes weighed down to heavy to keep open.

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Graces knew Snape was standing over her. She had heard the door and seen his silhouette just before she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. She had thought he would come in and ensure she was still living and leave, but the potions master seemed to continue looming over her bed. She could feel his black eyes on her and tried her best to continue her slow, steady breathing. She heard him touching her plastic bag that the doctor set up and tried to remain calm when his fingers brushed against the needle that was in her arm before lifting up the sheet gently to examine the tube in the side of her chest. After a moment she felt the thin sheet glide back down to cover her and once again waited for her professor to leave, but the faint smell of potions lingered and she knew he was still there.

It wasn't until she felt his fingers on her cheek that she opened her eyes and stared up through the darkness at him. Snape slowly brought his hand down, a look of subtle surprise spreading over his features, but he didn't offer any sort of apologies and his look of surprise didn't last long. His black eyes just blankly looked down on her waiting for her to say something. She didn't, though. She was not about to offer Snape the satisfaction of speaking first. The two of them just looked at each other waiting as the silence rang around them.

"I was just checking on you," Snape disclosed, breaking the silence. Graces nodded her head once, but continued to stare at the man accusingly. "I have an assortments of potions for you once your days are up. Those lacerations on your stomach will not be permanent, I've been working on a potion that will—"

"Don't," Graces hissed. "Don't you dare stand there and pretend that you care."

Snape scowled and politely folded his hands in front of him awaiting for her to continue.

"You-you did nothing," Graces croaked. "Nothing. You just-just left me there. You—"

"I told you not to come," Snape cut in calmly. "I told you. I tried to get you to listen to reason. Do not blame me for what you brought upon yourself."

"I would not have felt the need to come if I could believe that you would have protected Thomas!" Graces shrieked. "But you don't care to protect any of us!"

Snape continued to stand calmly beside the bed, despite the rest of the room beginning to wake and Octavian wailing in his bassinet.

"You are a coward of a man," Graces spat. "You just allowed Thomas' family to be killed! You didn't try to warn him of what was to come. You see him everyday and didn't have the compassion to tell him what was coming. Or even talk to him after! You don't care about anyone or anything. You knew those people being killed. They were your students, you even wrote some of them letters of recommendation after they graduated and you did nothing to preserve their lives. Because you don't care about life! There is nothing you deem sacred. You allowed children to die," Graces shuddered, tears falling from her eyes. "Children."

"You're supposed to be the grown up," Graces choked. "You're supposed to take care of us. Where were you all the times we needed you? Where were you when I needed you? How can you care so little? You allow the innocent to die."

There was a long silence that came with Graces last statement. The whole room aside from Octavian seemed to be holding their breath at the proclamation, waiting for the potions master to reply. When he didn't Graces' seemed to grow more frustrated.

"You better hope there are no gods," Graces continued in a deadly whisper. "Because there's a special place in hell for you, Severus Snape. A place where I hope you are meant to suffer for all the evil you have allowed."

Graces could feel her whole body vibrating from her rage. She felt as though she were going to come apart, she was shaking so badly. Every part of her felt as though fire were raging through her veins and she couldn't seem to calm her breathing as she puffed each breath angrily. She hated the man in front of her and she hated that she in many ways owed him her life.

"My, my, Miss Malfoy, if this is your opinion of me then I am left to wonder about what your opinion is of your father," Snape tutted simply, snapping his fingers and silencing Octavian.

"My father?" Graces asked, a small furrow coming between her brows.

"Yes, your father," Snape confirmed, tilting his head slightly as though he was confused as to why Graces could not make this connection. "While I may stand by and allow evil, your father actually participates." Snape smiled as Graces' face seemed to become distressed and ill at ease. "Oh, come, come, surely you know who and what your father is?" Snape drawled.

"My father is nothing like you!"

"You're right, he is nothing like me," Snape laughed. "Would you like me to list how we are different?" Snape didn't give Graces the chance to answer before he began spouting off reasons. "I do not enjoy torturing others. I've only done it as a means to an end. I don't use brutality and fear as my only method of getting things done for our Lord. And I've never killed a child," Snape added a glint coming to his eyes. "Your father has. Pureblooded and mudblood alike."

"You're lying," Graces growled. "My father would never do such a thing. He believes that children are meant to be protected."

"I'm sorry, wasn't it less than a year ago when your father was going to kill students in the Ministry?" Snape asked with false innocence. "Would you agree that students are still children, Miss Malfoy? You must if you insist that I should be protecting you all."

Snape did not linger to see Graces' reaction to her image of her father being shattered, he turned towards the door, his robes billowing out behind him.

"One more thing," Snape said turning and facing all in the room. "The whole Higgs clan was supposed to be killed. Thomas, Octavian and the Squib included. I was the one that argued we should refrain from killing off a whole pureblood line. I convinced the Dark Lord to spare Thomas and then went further to convince him to spare one other male child and another adult woman to help raise the infant."

"The lives of a few would not redeem you for the lives of many," Dr. Harris whispered, looking over at Snape from his chair. "It certainly doesn't redeem you for the torture of a child."

"I do not want, nor do I seek redemption," Snape said dispassionately. "I am well aware that the life of one can forever taint a soul beyond it."


	48. Chapter 48

"Do you want some more wine?"

"No."

Draco nodded and continued to watch his sister as she stared up from her bed. Her eyes reflected a tortured look as she laid there absent from her body. She had been silent after Snape left and then started crying in the middle of the night. Dr. Harris had thought at first it was the pain, but Graces had shook her head and just asked to be left alone.

"Snape said someone will be in today to ensure we didn't use any magical means to help you," Draco informed quietly.

"Who?" Graces asked tiredly.

"I think it's going to be a healer. Probably a healer and a lackey. It should all be fine," Draco added unsure if he was saying it to convince Graces or himself. Graces nodded uncaringly and continued on with her distance.

"Would you like me to read to you?" Draco offered, unable to take the silence.

"No."

"Would you like me to firecall Thomas to return with Octavian?"

"No."

"Graces," Draco whispered urgently, holding his hands tight to keep them from vibrating. "You're scaring me."

Graces closed her eyes and her face twisted as she tried to swallow a sob. After a moment she took a shaking breath and turned her head to face him.

"What kind of man is our father?" Graces rasped, her eyes red from lack of sleep and tears.

"What kind of a question is that?" Draco frowned, trying to ignore the way his heart seemed to be jumping. "He's our father."

"Yes, but—" Graces took a shuddering breath and looked back up to the ceiling "Is he a good man? Is he—"

"He's the man that took care of us our whole lives," Draco said angrily. "He's the man that bought you your first broom, filled your closet with every dress imaginable, he's the man that fixed your cuts when you fell down and let you sleep in his bed when you were scared. He's the man that sired and raised you, the man that would never turn his back on you." Draco didn't know why he was so angry, why he was feeling so defensive. He had thought their father had failed them as well, he had thought— _She's not asking if he failed. She's asking if he's a good man, if she should be ashamed that he's her father._ "If you are wondering if our father is a good man, you are wondering if I'm a good man," Draco said darkly, shaking uncontrollably.

"Snape said he _enjoyed_ hurting people, Draco. He said—"

"I think we can both agree that I myself have a touch of sadism," Draco broke in, standing up and pacing in front of her bed. "I've derived pleasure in humiliating others, inflicting pain, watching Potter and his lackeys suffer. Hell, I've been torturing Longbottom for yea—"

"It's not the same Draco," Graces breathed. "It's not. You're not a cruel, callous man. You're not heartless," Graces choked. "You don't really want to hurt people," Graces whispered looking up at him with shimmering eyes. "You just wanted father to see himself in you. I don't think you really enjoy causing pain. I think you just want to establish some sort of dominance. Bully, yes, but—but this... this is something different."

"Cruel, callous, heartless?" Draco repeated, feeling as though he had stupefied. "Those are the words you're going to use to describe our father. _Our father_. What's wrong with you? When has our father ever been—"

"You didn't see what Snape showed me," Graces sputtered. "You didn't see. He—he didn't hide anything. I saw in his head and he was pushing forward images of—of our father h—hurting people. Really hurting them, Draco. And—and he—he liked it. He seemed to enjoy watching them become more f—frightened and—"

"Stop!" Draco demanded, slamming his hand against the pillar of her bed. "You will not speak about our father this way. Do you hear me? I will not allow it. You are not going to sit there taking a fucking half—blood's meddling words to heart. Do you understand me?"

"Snape said he killed children," Graces proceeded desperately. "How can you just ignore what he said? I—I can't pretend I didn't hear that. I can't."

"You knew what happened last year!" Draco cast out, throwing up his hands. "You knew. You were told that—"

"I didn't process it," Graces pleaded. "I didn't really think about it. Draco, if our father does that, if he enjoys killing the defenseless how could you—"

"BECAUSE HE'S OUR FATHER!" Draco shouted, causing the dungeon torches to flicker. "He's our father! I don't give a shit what he's done to people I don't know or care about. I care about what he's done for me. And in case it has escaped your pretty, little head, that he—may I remind you—blessed you with, you and I have never wanted for anything! We have never in our lives had to struggle until he was taken away from us. We've been protected, loved, cherished and given all the worldly things we could have ever wanted! I love my father! He could kill every last fucking mudblood, pureblood, woman and child and I wouldn't care! He's _my_ father!"

"I love our father too!" Graces trembled tearfully.

Draco felt himself harden at his sister's tears. Why should any of this matter to her? Their father had hurt people that didn't matter to them. He had done nothing but try to secure a world where they would continue to be the elite. All the things he had done had benefited them, so what if he enjoyed hurting people. He was not hurting people that they cared about. He felt a rift growing between him and Graces, something he never in a million years thought could occur, but it was there. He felt like they were dividing, but he didn't understand why.

"I feel like I don't know you anymore." Draco didn't mean to say it aloud. If anything he never wanted that sentence to escape his lips and go out into the open air. He wanted to contain and ignore it, pretend it wasn't happening and that everything between him and Graces was fine. But it was out there now whether he wanted it to be or not. He didn't feel close to her anymore. Maybe it was his fault for being so absent, for always being locked up in that damn room working on his damn mission, but he didn't feel like it was just him.

"How can you say that?" Graces asked thickly. "I'm your sister."

"I don't know," Draco whispered, beginning to feel a lump in his throat. "I sometimes look over at you and I don't have an inkling about what's in your head. It's like there is something else to you that I'm not apart of. Like you've become separate from me."

"Separate?" Graces sputtered. "That doesn't even make sense. We are separate people."

"It's... it's a feeling. I don't know how to explain it." Graces' opened her mouth to argue, but a gentle knock at the door stopped the conversation.

"Don't answer that," Graces ordered.

"It could be that healer to check."

"He would have banged on the door," Graces pointed out tightly. "We're talking. Do not answer that door.

Draco knew Graces was right, but he opened the door anyways. He didn't want to really discuss this, not his father, not them. He wanted everything to just go away. He couldn't handle more on his plate than what was already there.

"Graham," Draco frowned. "Is Longbottom back? I told you yesterday he would be that—"

"May I have a word?"

Draco did not really know Graham Montague. He knew that he was a good Quidditch player, came from a nice family, was respectful outside the pitch, preferred listening to talking, was rough around the edges and always had an air of pride to him in what ever he did. But he didn't really know him. He just knew what to expect of him, which is why seeing Graham Montague standing in front of him ghost—white, clammy—skinned with posture better suited to Longbottom caused a prickle between his shoulder blades.

"Is everything okay? You look—"

"Malfoy, I just need a word," Graham insisted, his dark eyes still maintaining the sternness his body at the moment seemed to lack.

"Graces, I'll be right outside the door," Draco promised, not moving his silver eyes from Graham's determined, dark ones.

Graces let out a frustrated shriek as Draco walked out of the room and closed the door. Frustration tightened her chest to the point where she felt like she had to scream her lungs out. The only thing stopping her from turning over and doing just that into her pillow was the pain. Everything was such a mess. It felt like her whole life had just been splattered across a wall and she could do nothing to clean it off and preserve it the way it was. Even as the hot, frustrated tears began pouring down her cheeks she tried to get a hold of herself.

"I had a bad father," Dr. Harris said quietly, standing up and taking a soft handkerchief from Graces' drawer and dabbing her eyes. Graces sniffed and looked up at the chestnut haired man, but couldn't bring any words forth. "He was never around. He never came to my games, tucked me in at night, talked to me about anything that a man should talk to his son about. Nothing," Dr. Harris added hauntedly.

Graces stayed still as he took a seat and seemed to be lost in thought. There was something about the way he was sitting on her bed that made her think of Neville. Dr. Harris sat there, arms resting on his knees, slouched over, wearing his pain on his sleeve for her to see. That kind of vulnerability would never be shown in her house so openly. It was the kind of thing she could expect from Neville, but not from just anyone. It was odd seeing it from a grown man.

"He was a doctor too," Harris continued. "He was always at the hospital, day and night. If I had by some stroke of luck gained time with him it was always cut short for something. When he died I had nothing to say about him. He was just this figure in my life. I didn't know him. But at his funeral there were hundreds of people. All with a million stories of what a great man he was."

"You must have been proud," Graces said quietly, looking away embarrassed to be seeing such raw emotion.

"Proud?" Dr. Harris repeated, treating the word as a foreign concept. "Proud. No. I wasn't proud. People kept telling me that I should be proud, but no, I wasn't proud. He didn't raise me. My mother raised me. My mother and her second husband raised me. It's hard to be proud of being someone's son if they were never really your father. There's more to being a father than spending a night with a woman."

"All around me at the funeral people were so distressed over my father's death and I—" Dr. Harris paused as though he weren't sure if he was supposed to say the next thing aloud "—I felt very little." Graces watched as he looked up from his hands and stared at the night stand displaying pictures of her family. His eyes stopping on one of her father's proud smirk as he looked over at Graces and Draco cheering at the world cup. "My father was a good man, but he was a bad father," he whispered. "Yours is a good father, but a bad man. It may be wrong, but... I would have rather my father been like yours."

"You don't know my father," Graces shook.

"I didn't know my own either," Harris pointed out, sitting up and seeming to put away some of his dark thoughts. "But it sounds like up until now you have never questioned who your father was or whether he loved and cared for you." Graces remained silent at the doctor's words, determined to not allow them to sink in. "No one is perfect and maybe your father is the devil, but he's not to you. For you he has always been a good dad and it sounds like he has done a lot to shield you from the evil within him."

"He isn't doing a good job of shielding me now, is he?" Graces whispered stubbornly, closing her mouth to muffle a sob.

Dr. Harris sat quietly and allowed Graces her moment of despair. At her age he had never really had the tears to cry over his father. He was a man that he couldn't long for because he didn't know him. In reality by the time he was as old as Graces it wasn't so much that he wanted his father to be his father, it was that he wanted the acknowledgment. He wanted to do well, be a great doctor so his father would want to be around him. His idea of a relationship with the man was being something great that he could throw it in his father's face that he had no part in it. It didn't seem like Graces and Draco had had a father like that. It appeared that their father had been, up until recently, exceptionally involved in their lives.

"Where are your parents?" he asked after a moment.

"My father," Graces started slowly, taking a deep breath "is in Azkaban for crimes against the ministry. My mother is at home."

"Why is she not here with you?"

"She has no idea what is happening," Graces sniffed, wiping her eyes on her shoulder.  
"Draco didn't want her doing something foolish."

"Foolish?"

Graces pressed her lips together and nodded her head. "She would get herself killed," she murmured tightly. "My mother is very protective. If she knew about this... Nothing would stop her from seeking revenge."

"So you're just never going to tell her?" Dr. Harris frowned. "She's your mother. She should know what—"

"I will tell her when she can see I am whole," Graces cut in, something dark coming onto her features. "I will have my pounds of flesh for this. But I'm not going to be careless. I'll tell my mother when she can be in an appropriate mindset. It would be better to wait and plan out. My mother will not have the presence of mind to do either of those things if she saw me like this."

"And there is no authority you could go to?" Dr. Harris asked despondently, already knowing the answer before Graces shook her head. "Graces," Dr. Harris said cautiously, standing up and moving over to her desk. "I want to give you something."

"What?"

"It's... my number. Snape promised I would be taken home and when I am home I want you to call me. I want to help you, or at least get you in contact with people who could help you," Dr. Harris added scribbling down the last few digits and then realizing that Snape may have lied about his returning home. "Or if for some reason you can't reach me," he said slowly taking a deep breath, "this second number I'm going to write down is also a woman that I know would want to help you."

Dr. Harris swallowed hard at the thought. He had been so preoccupied with trying to help Graces, that it never really had occurred to him that he may not live past this. He may die and with him the knowledge that there were children being mistreated. He looked back to the blonde whose eyes were locked on the small piece of parchment he had written on.

"I don't understand. How will numbers on paper help me get in contact with you?"

"Do you know what a telephone is?" Dr. Harris asked a feeling of dread beginning to pool in his stomach. Graces shook her head. "It's this device where you can talk to people without being in the same room as them. It doesn't matter how far away they are, you can speak to them."

"Like firecalling?"

"Uh—yeah... sure, only no fire. You just call. You press these numbers on the phone, it rings and someone answers." Dr. Harris was sure Graces didn't want him to take note of the fact she seemed impressed by this sort of device, but despite herself she seemed to have a stunned approving look. "The point is," he began slowly "I want you to use a phone and call these numbers. I want you to get help. I, or this woman will find you and take you away. You can be safe."

Graces stared at the numbers for a while. She had the look of a scared animal wanting to accept food, but not come close enough to take it.

"You can't help me," she whispered turning her head away.

"That is not true," Dr. Harris pleaded. "Graces, I will help you. I will figure something out. I can take you away from here. I'll steal you away if I have to. You and your brother can stay with me. We will fig—"

"In a few days you won't remember who I am," Graces whispered hoarsely. "Snape will make you forget every detail. Even if I showed up on your doorstep you wouldn't know who I was."

Dr. Harris took a step back at Graces statement as a feeling of violation began to take weight on him. He would forget. He had no doubt that taking his memories was a possibility and that he could do nothing to defend himself against it. _Not important. Other things need to be focused on,_ he reminded himself angrily.

"Then call the other number," he forced out, pushing away his other thoughts. "Call the other number and tell the woman who answers that you are in trouble."

"Why?" Graces sighed rolling her eyes.

"Because that woman's life's work is to help people. To help children. Graces, if you call her she will tear this earth apart to find you and make you safe."

"I can't call her," Graces murmured detached.

"Graces..."

"Just stop talking," Graces whispered, closing her eyes tightly. "Just stop. If I could have run away with my brother don't you think we would have? You don't understand anything."

"Then help me understand."

"I can't."

"Why? Why can't you talk to me so I can help you? Why can't you trust me so I can make you better? What have I done? You act as though you are frightened of me. I am not the one who is going to hurt you. Let me help you. I'm a doctor, damn it."

"My gods, if muggles could be sorted," Graces growled angrily.

Dr. Harris clenched his fists together tightly in frustration and bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from growling out his vexation. He was on the brink of just letting it all loose and screaming at the blonde in front of him that she needed to allow him to help her, but before he could Draco came back in.

"I need to speak with my sister in private," Draco demanded, not leaving the doorway of the room. Dr. Harris looked over to Graces for a moment, before nodding his head and leaving. Draco waited until he heard the soft click of the door shutting before continuing forward into the room. "Graham wants to speak with you," he started quietly taking a seat down on the bed beside her and gently taking her hand. "And I want you to listen to what he has to say."

There was something about the way Draco was speaking to her. There was an intensity in his eyes and she felt as though every word he spoke had deliberate meaning. The air around them had thickened and Graces tried to be still as a chill crept up her spine.

"Draco?"

"Graces, I just want you to listen to him and think about what he says," Draco reinforced, holding her hand tighter.

"What does he have to say?"

Draco paused for a moment in thought. His jaw tightened and he didn't seem to want to meet her eye.

"I think I will let Graham be the one to divulge that to you privately."

"You're not staying?" Graces asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.

"No. It's best you two talked alone." There was a pregnant silence for a few moments: Graces staring at Draco and him continuing to study the floor. "I'm really sorry for all this," Draco whispered. "You'll never know how sorry I am. Maybe it's not you. The reason why I feel separate, detached. Maybe it's just all me. Maybe I'm detaching."

"No, Draco, it's not you. I have—" Graces swallowed a lump in her throat and tried to will at the words: I do have a secret. I've been seeing someone. I've been seeing Longbottom. But they wouldn't come. She couldn't get the sentence out past her teeth. "It's not all you."

"Please, listen to Graham," Draco cut in tightly standing up. "I already approve of what he is offering, but it's your decision."

Graces scowled at the vague statement and called out to Draco to not leave, but the blond didn't even look at her as he shut the door behind him leaving her alone. The air around her grew thick in the empty room. She knew it was only Graham who was about to enter, but for some reason her skin pricked and became sallow; her heart began thumping in a way that made her wonder if it was pumping something thicker than blood, and her mouth became dry. She tried to remain calm as she heard the shuffle outside the door. She could hear the soft inaudible whispers of her brother and Graham talking before silence took over and the door knob turned.

"Hi."

Graham frowned slightly at Graces nervous greeting, but said nothing to sooth her nervousness. He silently locked the door behind him and placed a silencing charm around the room.

"What—why are you doing that?" Graces asked, suddenly frightened of the boy standing in the room with her.

"I'm a private person and I enjoy my privacy."

"I'm not comfortable with that," Graces insisted, trying in vain to not appear frightened though her whole body was trembling. "I want that silencing charm off and I do not want the door locked."

Graham raised an eyebrow at Graces demands but made no move to undo either charm.

"Do you think I will hurt you?"

"Montague, you unlock that door right this instant," Graces ordered, her voice now bordering hysteric.

Graham's jaw line tightened and his lips pursed for a moment, but he turned and sharply flipped the lock.

"I would prefer for us to stay on a first name basis," Graham requested, a cold politeness to his voice.

"And I would prefer for that silencing charm to be taken off as well," Graces clipped.

"Graces," Graham started with deliberate patience, "I don't know what it is you are thinking, but I am not here to hurt you. I am here to... talk to you."

"Talk to me," Graces repeated skeptically. "Why do you need to talk to me alone with a silencing charm?"

Graham didn't answer her question right away, instead he placed his wand down on Pansy's night stand and walked away from it into the room. It was then that Graces took in her peer's appearance: the sad, sullen eyes and pale complexion. He looked similar to Draco. Graham, who didn't share any of her brother's features, now reminded her of her brother exactly.

"May I sit?" Graham asked, gesturing to the chair beside her and waiting for her to nod her head before taking his seat. The older Slytherin sat there for a while staring at her injuries one by one. His eyes studied the streaks of pink left in her hair from blood, her swollen shut eye, the bruises that wrapped around her chin, arms, neck and collar until his eyes were settled on her middle hidden beneath the blankets. "Are you comfortable?" Graham asked, looking back up at her. "Do you need another pillow or would you like more wood in the fire?"

"I'm fine."

"Good," Graham nodded, trailing back into his thoughts and sitting quietly his eyes slowly going back to her stomach. Graces fidgeted under the stare, but didn't say anything. If Graham wanted to talk to her he would have to be the one to speak.

"I—" Graham paused for a moment, and touched his finger to his lips. "Do you remember your surgery?"

"Does it matter?"

Graham blew out a sigh and looked up at the ceiling.

"I was there," he informed, ignoring Graces' rudeness. "I heard you scream. You sounded as though you were being tortured. I barged in the room and you were opened up. The "doctor" had these silver tools in you and I could see your insides..." Graham looked up and met Graces eyes for a moment. "I held you down until you passed out. I was there when your heart stopped and breathing had to be done for you."

"I see," Graces breathed, a feeling of numbness coming over her.

Graham nodded and seemed to be struggling with continuing on with the conversation. Graces really didn't want it to continue. She wished that Graham would just leave. Leave and leave the memories with him, so she could be sure no one else would ever know.

"I have overthrown my father as Patriarch." Graces' head popped up at Grahams declaration and she felt winded as Graham hunched over his arms resting on his legs as his head bowed down.

"Overthrown?" Graces repeated dazed. "You took the title by force? You overthrew your father?"

"He didn't give me much choice," Graham murmured tightly, still looking down. "Neutrality will no longer be tolerated and he was going to allow it in the family. I had no choice."

"But still," Graces whispered. "He's your father. To overthrow him is to dishonor—"

"My sister is dead," Graham cut in coldly, no longer looking down. "Her children, my nephews, were slaughtered. I have other sisters. I refuse to let them and their children die in the same manner. I did what I had to do."

"But to overthrow your father," Graces continued awestruck. "You could have talked to him, given him more time to grieve and let go of what happened. You took his position." Graham said nothing to all this, just waited blankly for Graces to continue. "Your father is a good man," Graces stated, her voice stronger than it had been in days. "A good, proud man. He will never be able to forgive you for this."

"I don't need his forgiveness," Graham retorted tiredly. "I need my family to be safe."

"How did you do it?" Graces asked, studying Graham.

"I convinced the rest of the family that he was ill—suited for the task, that Arella's death had impacted his judgment, that he was weak and we needed someone strong," Graham added quietly. Graces offered no words of comfort as Graham's face showed a tinge of shame. In her opinion he should be ashamed. "I know what you are thinking, but I didn't have a choice. Someone had to do what was necessary."

"You should have just dueled him, killed him rather than dishonoring him like that. You made him seem weak and simple. Your father is reasonable," Graces spat. "You could have—"

"We may not have had the time to wait for him to wake up and see reason," Graham growled, his temper flaring. "I did what I had to do. Do you think I wanted to overthrow my father!? Do you think I wanted this responsibility!?"

"Then why did you take it?" Graces bit out, clenching her jaw to keep from screaming.

"Are you not listening?" Graham hissed, standing to his feet. "Because I need to protect my family."

"Your sisters are married," Graces pointed out. "Their lives depend on their new families' decisions. Not yours."

Graham paused for a moment, his temper slowly steaming out of him. Graces frowned as the older boy's distress seemed to grow on his face.

"I didn't have a choice," Graham repeated, his hand heavily moving to his left sleeve and sliding the cloth up to reveal the dark mark. "I had to keep them safe. I was offered a deal for their safety."

"Oh, Graham," Graces breathed, unable to stop the tears coming down her face at the site of his damnation.

"The deal was I would overthrow my father, declare loyalty and take the mark," Graham stated solemnly. "In return I would gain my family's safety, including my sisters that have married and their children. You know the Dark Lord and deals. He offers and you accept. There are no other options."

"What did you have to do for that mark?" Graces asked tightly, her silver eyes staying on Graham's haunted ones.

"Nothing I wouldn't do again," Graham stated evenly, sitting back down, his eyes bearing down into Graces' silver ones. "There was another part of my agreement," Graham continued slowly. "It was agreed that my wife would not be expected, no matter who she was, to take the mark. Nor would she be punished for her own family's infractions," he emphasized giving Graces a pointed look.

"Graces," Graham said gently, taking her hand and ignoring the frightened look she had. "Love will come. I can't say that I love you now, but I know it would come. I'm not an affectionate man. I'm actually quite uncomfortable with just this," Graham admitted, gesturing to his hand holding Graces'. "I don't even know if I am a good man anymore. I've had to do things that I never plan on discussing with you. But I can promise that you will be taken care of and that my affections will eventually be given to you."

Graces didn't know what to say, she sat there gaping at Graham, her mind going in a million different directions.

"Why?" she finally blurted out, her whole body trembling.

"Reasons," Graham shrugged. "I wouldn't mind sharing a bed with you. You're good with kids, properly raised, the family would all approve of you and considering what I just did I need all the approval I can get. And you are one of a handful of people that don't make me want to jump off the astronomy tower," he added with a small smile.

"You yell at me all the time."

"Quidditch," Graham said, as though that were explanation enough.

"Be serious here, Graham," Graces hissed. "You're—"

"I am proposing an offer of marriage," Graham finished. "And I am being serious."

"Then tell me the real reasons why you are offering me this," Graces demanded. "Because there has to be other reasons. You could not possibly be doing this just—just to help me or because you wish to have a pretty wife that you can bear living with! You are not in any way a romantic, I doubt you would have a problem marrying a woman you could not stand!"

Graham scowled at Graces last statement, but after a few moments leaned down so they were level.

"Okay," he nodded. "This is the way I see it, Graces. You and your brother are in a very grave situation. There is little to nothing I can do for Draco. I now know what he has to do and if we are being honest I don't see him being able to complete it." Graham ignored Graces strangled sob and continued on. "That being said," Graham continued, trying to be gentle but failing, "our union would be exceptionally beneficial to you as well as me."

"And what exactly is in it for you?" Graces sniffed. "I am failing to see your benefit."

"You have an exceptional dowry," Graham explained. "A dowry that alone would place my family as second only to yours in wealth. That kind of money brings a great deal of power and like I said I need to show my family that turning over the role of patriarch to me was a wise decision."

"My dowry," Graces scoffed, looking up at the ceiling unsure if she wanted to cry, laugh or scream. "I really shouldn't be surprised. So I marry you, gain my safety and freedom from the mark and that's it? My brother will pay my dowry and I just have to say I do?"

Graham hesitated for a moment and seemed to be debating whether he should say anything at all.

"Well, you would be my wife," he started a tinge of nervousness to his voice. "And I will need an heir. I will expect you to perform your duties as my wife. And I would ask that you not return to Hogwarts for your final year."

"You would want me to just drop out?" Graces asked shrilly. "Not even finish my education?"

"Graces," Graham pleaded, getting down on his knees and holding her hand. "I will want you to be my wife. I'm not a very open guy with my feelings, but this is going to be hard on me. Everything is going to wear on me. My responsibilities, my mark. I'm going to need you. Not just to act as my wife and raise an heir and manage the family and house. I will personally need you."

Graces held her breath and Graham continued to stay on the ground kneeling and holding her hand.

"I'm scared," he murmured quietly. "I want to have someone in my life that I can say that to. Your dowry is not the only reason I want you to marry me. Maybe we don't love each other now, but we like each other and that's a start in my book. I more than tolerate you. I like having you on the team. I like bantering with you and I liked how good you were with my nephew. How..." Graham seemed to be searching for a word. "What you're doing for Thomas, what you did for the funeral. I would be very proud to have you, Graces. I understand I am asking for some sacrifice on your part, but there is a great deal on mine as well. Be with me and you will be safe and your arm can remain bare. "

Graces couldn't bring herself to say anything. Graham seemed to be offering her everything and yet she couldn't open her mouth to accept. She knew this was the smart choice. Not only would it make her safe, but it would allow Draco room to breathe, taking the heavy burden of her life off his shoulders and yet she had no words to voice. _Thomas, the agreement was for Thomas too. I am responsible for him._

"And Thomas?" she managed to ask, sure that this was what was keeping her from accepting.

"He will be taken care of," Graham vowed. "I will take up the burden of being responsible for his tresspasses, of which I am sure there will be none. The Dark Lord seemed to have a feeling when I requested this that it was you I was requesting this for. He still agreed, I'm sure we can maintain Thomas' safety."

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Neville stared at the scene before him. Graham on one knee holding Graces' hand while she gazed at him in disbelief unable to find words.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked hollowly, unable to move.

Graces looked up startled and he knew from the look in her eyes that he had indeed walked in on something he was not meant to see.

"You are," Graham declared coldly.

"Right," Neville nodded, looking over to Graces and beginning to feel as though the world under him was shattering.. "I—uh—right... I-I'll just leave."

"No!" "Good." the two Slytherins replied simultaneously. Graham turned back towards Graces at her response. The older boy clearly was at a loss as to why she would say no to Neville leaving.

"I..." Neville wondered if Graces had meant to ask him to stay. The blonde looked horrified with herself and sat with her mouth gaped open looking at Graham."I need to think about this," she whispered tightly. "I don't feel ready and..." Graces sighed and closed her eyes. "I just need some space to think."

"To think," Graham repeated, looking over at Neville for a moment before returning his gaze to her.

"Yes, to think," Graces whispered, holding Graham's gaze.

"I understand," Graham nodded, standing up awkwardly from the ground. Neville moved out of the doorway so that the burlier boy could walk out and he could ask Graces what was going on, but before the Slytherin left he leaned down and planted an awkward peck on Graces' cheek. Without thinking Neville looked down at his feet and suddenly was wishing he was anywhere but there in that room or that he could walk forward, turn Graham around and sock him in the face.

_Oh yeah, that would be a great idea wouldn't it? Let's punch the guy the brawny, herculean Quidditch captain. That's just a swell idea. Then I can be in the bed next to Graces. Wouldn't we be a great match._

Neville looked up from the ground when he noticed Graham's black shoes in his view and clutched the potted plant he was holding tightly as the older boy stood looming over him pompously. Neville found himself moving his shoulders back and trying to recreate the posture Graces always insisted on for Thomas.

"Are these going to make her more comfortable?" Graham asked gesturing to all the supplies. Neville nodded unsurely and waited for Graham to say more. "And this?" Graham asked, picking up a razor. "This looks like it would hurt her, not help her. There are sharp blades in this."

"It's a razor. Muggles use it to shave off the hair on their face," Neville said patiently. "I brought it for Dr. Harris. Dean uses it. I also brought along with a few other things. Fresh pants and trousers, a toothbrush and toothpaste. That's what muggles use to clean their teeth," Neville added. "Hermione's parents send us those every Christmas. They're not that bad. The paste has a pleasant taste, you can't swallow it, you brush it on your teeth to get them clean then spit it out, but it leaves them feeling really refreshed. Sometimes I just use it cause I like it. Anyways, I had some to spare so I figured Dr. Harris would appreciate it."

"Thoughtful," Graham clipped. "You're a considerate guy, eh Longbottom?" Neville didn't answer, he had a feeling that Graham was about to corner him into a trap. "Just not considerate enough to knock I suppose." Neville blushed, but didn't make a comment.

It wasn't until the Slytherin left did Neville realize he had been holding his breath. He all of the sudden felt peculiarly light-headed and hurried over to a desk to place all the things down. Neville stood leaning over the desk for a few moments, trying to get his brain to start working again.

"What-what did I just walk in on?" he asked turning around and looking at Graces.

"Nothing," Graces lied, looking down at her hands. "Nothing."

"It didn't look like nothing," Neville protested moving over to her by the bed. "It looked like... it looked like he was... You know you're only sixteen, right?" Neville cast out. "Sixteen. You know that right?"

"You can't even have your apparition license yet," Neville fumbled, ignoring Graces' quizzical frown. "Or do magic outside of Hogwarts. I mean, you're still a child."

Graces' quizzical frown had now molded into a full on scowl, but the blonde remained coldly silent as Neville continued to babble on.

"And Montague may be seventeen, but that isn't much of a difference is it? I mean none of us should be making any huge, life-changing decisions at this age."

"Aren't you a patriarch?" Graces pointed out frostily.

"Yes... but I'm not thinking about getting married," Neville added quickly. "I mean not that I don't want to one day and—"

"Longbottom, stop talking."

"Don't tell me to stop talking," Neville cried out. "He— it looked like he was proposing. Proposing! First he's kissing you on the quidditch pitch, then he's ogling you on Halloween. 'Oh and Malfoy, nice scales. The placement is flattering on you,'" Neville mimicked, dropping his voice down a few octaves and sounding more like Hagrid than Graham. "And now he's proposing marriage!"

"Are you done?" Graces asked, her eyebrow arched judgmentally. "Because my throat is still hurting. I feel like a dragon must after blowing out fire, so if you are done I would appreciate your solution to this problem."

The two students glared at one another for a moment, before Neville stomped over to the desk to retrieve the tea he had made for Graces throat.

"I would appreciate if you could also pour me some more wine," Graces added tiredly. "I think I could drink the whole carafe right now."

"Drink this tea first," Neville instructed irritatedly, walking over and bringing the cup to her lips. "Are you going to talk to me about this at all?"

"I wasn't planning to," Graces answered, taking another long sip of the tea before continuing. "This seems like something that is private between Graham and I."

"So he was proposing!?" Neville accused.

"I never said he wasn't."

"Right," Neville murmured bitterly, staring down into the teacup and trying to prevent himself from becoming more emotional than he already was. "You told him you were going to think about it," he whispered quietly, ashamed that his voice had become so tight.

"I _am_ going to think about it," Graces informed tiredly, closing her eyes. "There is a lot you do not know and marrying Graham would have a lot of benefits for me."

"Do you love him?" Neville asked, putting the teacup down so he would not have to hear his hands trembling.

"Don't be stupid," Graces scoffed. "This has nothing to do with romantic feelings."

"So you're just going to marry him for convenience," Neville cried exasperatedly.

"I have not even made that decision," Graces growled. "I am just thinking about his proposal. That doesn't mean I will accept it."

"Do you want to accept it?"

"I'm not talking about this with you," Graces hissed.

"Just answer the question!" Neville exclaimed, a hint of pleading to his words. "Do you want to accept it?!"

"This is not appropriate for me to be discussing with you. I won't."

"I'm not asking you to discuss it with me," Neville countered. "I just want to know if you want to accept his offer." Graces bit her lips together and shook her head, refusing to answer, but Neville continued on demanding that she answer his question.

"No! Alright? Are you happy now? No, I don't want to accept it! I don't want to marry him!" Graces shouted. "There! Now, can we drop this?"

"No we cannot just drop this!" Neville groaned. "You are thinking about accepting a marriage proposal and we are tog—involved. We're involved," Neville repeated quietly, praying desperately Graces' could at least understand that.

The blonde stared at him for a few moments before taking a shuddering breath and closing her eyes. When Graces reopened them she looked at him sadly.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Graces rasped helplessly. "What do you want me to say? You know you and I have no future together, right?" Graces asked quietly, moving her hand and taking his."This is temporary, Longbottom. We have an end date. We are not ever going to be more than what we are right now. It's not in the stars. I've made that clear, haven't I? You're under no delusions about us, right?"

Neville looked at Graces' hand trying to intertwine with his. She had two fingers that were obviously broken and bruising going up. Gently he took her hand in his and sat down on the bed, kissing the top of her skin gently and swallowing a sob as he did so.

"I just want more time," he whispered. "I just want to be happy a bit longer."

"We are only prolonging the inevitable," Graces whispered, more to herself than to Neville.. "I probably will marry Graham. Maybe not now, but eventually. It makes sense for us to marry one another. It's a good match."

"So you will say yes to marrying Graham," Neville said hollowly, his heart beginning to crack.

"I don't know," Graces rasped, tears now beginning to stream out. "I know I'm scared, though. I've never been more scared than I am now. You know I-I can't even get up to go to the loo," Graces confessed, her cheeks turning brightly as more tears came. "P-Pansy has to help me. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? Marrying Graham may give me more protection, it can ensure that this will never happen to me again."

"How?" Neville asked.

"I can't say," Graces sniffed, holding his hand tighter.

"Okay," Neville nodded, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to her hand. "Okay."

"Longbottom, I—"

"How about we get that wine for you, huh?" Neville broke in, standing up and moving over to the goblet. "Maybe I'll have a glass with you. Then after you've had a glass I will start treating that rug burn on you."

"I thought you wanted to talk about this?" Graces hiccuped.

"I did too," Neville rasped. "But no, I don't now. You do what is best for you and I will enjoy the time I have with you now. If Graham can ensure this never happens to you again I'll even send you a wedding gift."

"Longbottom, it's not that I don't want time with you," Graces sobbed. "It has nothing to do with you. I—"

Neville didn't allow Graces to say another word before he silenced her lips with his. He knew it was an odd thing to do, kiss the love of your life after she told you she was going to think of another man's offer of marriage, but he didn't care. She had not answered him yet, and he wasn't about to lose precious time with her because he was crying about how unfair it all was. They were temporary, he wanted more time, but as Graces said it may not be in the cards. So he kissed her. Only stopping when he realized Graces was crying in his mouth.

"I'm sorry. I—"

"Don't be sorry," Neville comforted, running a gently hand on the curve of her neck.

Graces nodded her head sadly and took a shuddering breath.

"I want more time too," she whimpered.

"Graces," Neville smiled gently, picking up the glass of wine. "I vote we enjoy the time we have and not think of anything else."

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"She said she will think about it?" Draco hissed angrily.

"It's a big decision, Draco," Graham sighed. "You really shouldn't be so cross about this."

"I am not cross," Draco snapped. "I am confused. Extremely confused. It was a good offer!" Graham shrugged and rested his hands back down on the sofa. "Were you romantic?" Draco asked, desperately. "Like saying pretty things and getting on a knee, were you romantic?"

Graham frowned at the question and then moved his shoulders irritatedly before answering that was not his style, but he had at one point got on a knee.

"Well, maybe you should make it your style," Draco quipped irritatedly. "I think what I am offering is rather generous and—"

"Draco," Graham broke in. "I am well aware of all you are offering. A heavy dowry and your family's fortune and businesses if you should die. You're offering your family's whole legacy. Not to mention if you don't die, which I prefer, you would be in a grand circle that I as your brother in law will benefit from. I'm not an idiot. I want this too, but the truth is I have a great amount of respect for your sister and I don't plan on pretending to be someone I am not to manipulate her into thinking she should marry me. This is who I am. It would not being doing her any favors to pretend that I am different. It would only leave her disappointed and lonely in the end."

"You have respect for her," Draco repeated darkly. "Respect. You know who else was respected? Arella Higgs." Graham tensed at the mention of his sister's name, but Draco continued on. "Your sister was a respected witch and where did that get _her_?"

"Malfoy," Graham growled warningly.

"I'm just saying," Draco gritted. "Respect is not what my sister needs. She needs safety."

"If you feel that way arrange her marriage," Graham dared.

"She would never forgive me," Draco huffed.

"Maybe not," Graham acknowledged quietly. "But she would be alive."

"When will she give you an answer?" Draco asked impatiently, wanting to ignore that logic.

"I'm not rushing her for one. She will answer when she decides."

"Graces likes to avoid things," Draco informed slowly. "Sometimes you have to press her."

"I think it's bad form to press a girl for an answer to a proposal," Graham chuckled.

"Well, did you at least ask her on a date?" Draco pressed.

"Uh, no..." Graham admitted awkwardly. "Longbottom sort of showed up and interrupted."

"Longbottom? You didn't say Longbottom was up there."

"We were discussing my interactions with the Dark Lord and Graces' reaction to the proposal, I didn't think it mattered that Longbottom showed up at the end to serve her tea." Graham paused for a moment. "He's always around, Longbottom. He likes her. Looks like he likes her a lot. Nitwit seems to be in love with her or something."

"Infatuation is not love," Draco muttered, all of the sudden wishing he had a drink in hand.

"Longbottom is now very aware about where you and your sister stand in this war," Graham pointed out carefully. "And he seems to want to do nothing more than help her. He doesn't even seem to be questioning where he stands morally with it. What do you call that, Draco?"

"Not love," Draco maintained.

"Well," Graham shrugged. "It's interesting to say the least."

"Yeah, well, I don't need mine or my sister's life being more interesting," Draco gritted. "Another good thing that could come out of this marriage is Longbottom would be out of here."

"He can't be out of the picture now?" Graham frowned.

Draco looked up at Graham hesitantly, before leaning closer so no one could hear.

"I don't want you talking to people about this, okay?" Draco stipulated taking a deep breathe when Graham nodded his head. "Graces has been scared for a long time now," Draco began quietly. "Longbottom has been paying her for the tutoring sessions. The life debt is over, so now he's paying her, mighty generously for someone of his wealth too. Anyways, she's saving in case we need to hide. I didn't have the heart to tell her that there was no way. So I let her continue. I figure it can let her have this false sense of security. With you, she wouldn't need it."

"I'm sorry," Graham murmured, looking away. "I hope she never finds out that her plan could not work."

"Yeah," Draco nodded, his mind now being invaded with his sister pleading with him to run away, desperately trying to convince him they should take the money and run. "I should wake up the muggle and head back to her."

Draco stood up and moved over to where Dr. Harris had passed out on a corner recliner. After a few unceremonious nudges the exhausted man stood from the chair.

"How long was I out?" he yawned.

"A bit," Draco clipped, already turning towards Graces' room. Dr. Harris dragged his feet along behind him and Draco made a mental note to give the man some pepper up potion. The last thing he wanted was a half dead muggle doctor treating his sister.

"Longbottom what the bloody hell are you doing!"

"Uh... nothing," Neville sputtered, placing the glass of wine he was drinking down. "Just having a drink."

"You know I don't like drinking alone," Graces shrugged. "You're the one who left me here alone."

"So you drink with Longbottom?" Draco asked in disbelief.

"It's a glass of wine, Draco," Graces sighed rolling her eyes. "By the way, thanks for asking. Yes my throat does feel better."

Draco sent a death glare over at Neville sitting nervously in the chair, but Dr. Harris walked over to the tea cup.

"What's in it?" he asked, looking down into the cup.

"Marshmallow root, honey and licorice root," Neville mumbled. "And the plant is called an aloe vera... She said she would rather you apply it, but what you do is—"

"I know what an aloe vera plant is," Dr. Harris chuckled. "This is great, exactly what she needs."

"Good," Neville nodded, moving awkwardly out of his seat as Draco came forth to claim the chair by his sister. "I—uh— also brought you some things as well," Neville added still talking to Dr. Harris, but keeping a cautious eye on Draco.

"Brought me some things?" Dr. Harris repeated curiously.

"Yeah," Neville nodded, picking up the bundle he brought for the doctor. "Just some comforts I thought you would appreciate and that book we discussed.."

"Neville, I could kiss you," Dr. Harris grinned.

Neville blushed and murmured that it was nothing

"Fresh pants, trousers, a razor and soap? That's not nothing, that's damn human," Dr. Harris insisted grabbing the toiletries and dashing over to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Draco frowned.

"I am going to shower," Dr. Harris sang, practically giddy with the thought.

"What about my sister," Draco protested angrily.

"Five year olds know how to put on aloe vera; you and Mr. Longbottom will manage."

Draco abruptly stood up from his seat and turned to where the plant was.

"What do I do?" he snarled glaring at Neville.

"Uh, well, I could do it," Neville offered, uncomfortable with the hostility ripe in the air.

"You're not touching my sister," Draco swore, holding his finger out to Neville menacingly. "Not now, not ever. I'll take care of her. As a matter of fact, you're no longer needed. Leave."

"Draco," Graces whispered.

"Graces, you keep out of this," Draco warned, moving nose to nose with Neville.

"You wanted to help and you have," Draco gritted. "Now leave."

"Draco," Graces whispered again. "Longbottom was catching me up on classes. We were discussing—"

"There are other people, your own people, that can catch you up for classes," Draco reminded, his eyes not moving away from Neville's. "You have other things to be thinking about anyways."

Neville frowned and moved to try and look at Graces, an act that had Draco's blood boiling in his veins as he moved to block her from his view.

"She doesn't need you anymore," Draco informed coldly. "Leave."

"Your intimidation tactics are not going to work on me, Malfoy. You can't—"

"This is not intimidation." Draco cuffed Neville, sending him into the post of another bed. "You need to leave. She is my sister, my family and you are not welcome here now. You have no more use to us now. Leave."

"Draco, stop it!" Graces cried, as Draco sent another blow to Neville's chest pushing him closer to the door.

"You tell him to leave," Draco demanded turning to his sister. "You tell him to leave right now and not return, Graces. Or I swear to the Gods I'll—"

"My my, what is going on here?" a sultry voice purred. Draco looked up to see Nott smiling happily in the doorway at his and Neville's spat.

"Get out!" both Draco and Neville demanded angrily in unison. Draco scowled and looked over questioningly at the sandy-haired boy next to him, who seemed to be on the verge of tackling Theodore.

"Still allowing for Longbottom to be around?" Nott asked sweetly, moving into the room and leering over Graces' bed. "That's interesting."

It was the second time today Draco had to hear that Neville's time around Graces was"interesting". Only this time it struck something. Graham found it interesting for reasons related to Neville's feelings, but Nott seemed to be insinuating it was interesting for reasons related to Graces'.

"I don't think it's that interesting," Graces shrugged, her face pouted similarly to when she wants to make light of a situation her mother wants to discuss. "I tutor him for a life debt and he fancies me. I mean honestly, Nott, you of all people should understand where Longbottom is coming from. I mean, how many times have I denied you and yet you still continue trying." Nott bristled at Graces comment, but remained where he stood. "Tell me, Theodore, what's it like to want something so desperately and not be able to have it?" Graces goaded. "I've never known such a feeling."

"I had you," Nott murmured.

"Did you?" Graces asked innocently. "If someone gives you a box with a truffle in it and you didn't get to eat said truffle before losing it, did you ever really have it?"

"That's enough, Graces," Draco hissed, having a feeling that toying with Nott at this moment was not going to be helpful to either of them. Graces scowled, but did not persist in her mocking. The damage however was done and Draco knew it. Nott was not the same boy he used to play trivial child's games with. He had changed into the kind of man with more sinister tastes in entertainment.

"Let's speak in private; shall we?"

It wasn't a question and though the words were not threatening there was a bite to them. A chill went down Draco's spine as the other boy passed him to enter the hall. He wished he was the one that could do that. Not too long ago he was, but now he was the one that was cowering in shadows.

Neville watched as Draco turned sharply and followed Nott out the door.

"What is wrong with you!" Neville hissed. "I don't like Nott either, but Graces you should not be goading him. Do you have any idea what a guy like Nott will do after his pride has been—"

"You need to leave. And you need to leave now," Graces interjected desperately.

"What? No. No way. I can't leave you. Not now, not like this."

"Longbottom, you have to leave. Please. Nott is already going to say you were here. You are going to be on their radar, please you have to leave. They cannot see you."

"Who? Death Eaters? Are more Death Eaters coming?"

"Please, leave. Please."

"What are they going to do, huh? Kill me? Here at Hogwarts?"

"Oh, because that's never happened before? A student turning up dead in the castle?" Graces snapped. "Longbottom, you need to leave and after you leave today do not come back here. I don't even think Snape is aware you have—"

"That's another thing I wanted to ask you about. Snape. Is he a—"

"Longbottom, you _need_ to leave," Graces stressed. "Being here, with us like this. You're going to get yourself killed. Leave now, while you can. Nott and Draco are in the hall. You won't make it out of this dormitory if others show up."

"You really think they are going to kill me?" Neville frowned. "I can't say anything. Everyone knows I can't say anything at all. Why would they kill me?"

"Do you really want to take the chance?" Graces asked, her face a mosaic of worries. "Please, leave. Please. I will see you Tuesday. Please."

Neville wanted to continue to argue. To say that he would rather take that chance than leave her alone, but as he watched Graces whole middle tremble he found himself agreeing to leave.

"Thank you," Graces breathed, clearly relieved that he was listening to her.

"I can't come back tomorrow? You're sure?"

"No, I really do need to think," Graces whispered. "I need some time away from you. I don't think clearly when you're here. I allow too much and it makes doing what I need to difficult."

"I am beginning to reconsider leaving," Neville half joked, smiling sadly down at her.

Graces awkwardly smiled at his dark humor, but said nothing. There wasn't anything she could really say, no comfort she could really give. This was what it was. Nothing could change that.

"Let me come back tomorrow," Neville pleaded, brushing hair back gently. "Maybe just for the morning before classes start?" It was tempting, more tempting than she was willing to allow Neville to know. She wanted him there, she did, but at the same time it was becoming dangerous for him to be there. So she shook her head and asked him to respect her wishes of privacy while she though.

"Alright," Neville sighed. "I'll see you Tuesday," he murmured, leaning down and kissing her sweetly.

"That was foolish," Graces blushed, looking over to the door to make sure no one had come in. "If someone had seen—"

"No one saw," Neville grinned. "Remember, I'm a Gryffindor. We have that luck going for us."

"Luck runs out," Graces smiled.

"Then I should hurry out of here before then," Neville winked, standing up and heading to the door. "And Malfoy." Graces scowled at Neville using her last name, but waited for him to continue. "That was not my last kiss. Regardless of what you decide I'll be expecting something better than that."

Graces couldn't tell if Neville was serious or joking, but either way it had her laughing as he walked out the door. She sat watching the dark wood long after he was gone, mentally tracking where he would be in the castle. She could hear the taps turning off in the showers and Dr. Harris moving about, and at the same time the door opened revealing Draco, Nott, Snape and a hook-nosed wizard she didn't know.


	49. Chapter 49

Dr. Harris stared at his reflection in the large mirror. He still had large bags under his eyes and his skin seemed paler than before, but he felt better. He felt clean, something he wasn't used to after days spent dirty. He took a deep breath through his nostrils and felt an overwhelming sense of relief at not smelling stale blood. Part of him wanted to stay in the bathroom, just to have a moment more of peace. He had stood in the shower as long as possible for that same reason. Even when the water turned freezing cold, he welcomed it.

Maybe he was being a coward, but he didn't want to go back out there just yet. The thought of curling up in a ball and sleeping on the floor of the bathroom seemed like a keen idea at the moment. He was alone and finally had the time to think through all that was going on, to digest more of the reality he had just come to know, but he found himself not wanting to. He didn't want to think about anything, because he knew the moment he really understood he would break down.

The book Neville had brought for him stood next to the used razor teasing him with its leather cover. He wondered what he was going to read about. He had only seen a small glimpse of this world and already he judged it lacking. It lacked in compassion, justice, tolerance and God knows what else. It lacked. Any society that could put this kind of burden on children must be lacking. He was afraid to read the book Neville had brought him, scared to know what he would be leaving Graces in when he left. This was supposedly just a warning, but he had a feeling that what he was going to be reading about in that book was going to be far worse.

_You're such a coward. You don't want to know what horrible things are going on, so you're going to choose to remain ignorant while those children are living it._

It was with this thought raging inside his head that Dr. Harris opened the book and began to read. He stared at the first few pages dedicated to the memory of those that had died in what they called "The First Wizarding War". Pages and pages of names all written down delicately, a quiet reminder of loss. It reminded him of another book he had read, a book that was written about Auschwitz. That book, like this one, had also had a long list of names at the end.

Dr. Harris looked up at the door for a moment to ensure he still had his privacy and began reading.

_Long past are the days when we would wonder if our spouse would come home or if our children were safe playing in their own garden. We no longer look at our neighbors and worry over what is hidden under their left arm, and yet The First Wizarding War touches us everyday. We no longer live in fear, but live in memory: memory of what that kind of fear was like and memory of the ones that were taken from us too early. No wizarding family can claim they did not feel the loss of a member because of the cruelty of Lord Voldemort also known as He-Who-Must-Not- Be-Named._

_I will start by saying I am writing this book to discuss not only the Wizarding War, but the injustices done by our own Ministry during it. I realize that many of my readers will not agree with my opinions, but I feel that they should be heard. I believe our Ministry committed war crimes against muggles. By not allowing the non-magical community to have information on what was happening we left them vulnerable to the attacks that occurred. The blood spilled in the muggle world is splashed onto our Ministry's doorstep._

"Muggle," Dr. Harris whispered, looking up and staring at himself in the mirror. That was him, people like him, regu—non-magical people. They were being killed as well? And this ministry, the magical one, didn't allow them to know? All of the sudden Dr. Harris' mind went to the bridge that collapsed. There was no reason for that bridge to just go down like that. None. He sat there wondering if maybe this world had something to do with the bridge collapsing in his world.

Dr. Harris kept that in mind as he read more. He read about how Lord Voldemort took advantage of the wizarding world's divide by infiltrating the Ministry and how his rebellion brought all kinds of terrors to muggles, muggleborn and any wizard, witch or creature that dared to defy him. He felt like each sentence of this book brought him deeper into a reality that didn't seem all real. Goblins, giants, trolls, werewolves, dementors, his head was spinning with words of creatures that also not only existed, but were very much a part of this world and it seemed a part of his world.

The symptoms of dementors... it resonated hard with him. Since July there had been this unseasonal mist. He had had dozens of patients coming in from suicide attempts. He couldn't go a week in the ER without bandaging up a wrist. Was this it? Were these dementor things back with this dark lord? Were they in the muggle world? A chill had settled in his bones at the thought. Creatures beyond the horror films he had grown up watching were involved in this war, and not the side that seemed to be good.

He flipped through the book some more, his stomach tightening as he read bits of words here and there: torture, massacre, genocide, missing, screams. Each page seemed to have more and more horrors. He knew war was awful, but this wasn't war. This was something different, something indescribable.

The last portion of the book was an index of all the people fighting. Dr. Harris looked up at the door for a moment and then began to turn the pages to M. There he was, Lucius Malfoy. Even in the photo he looked smug. He sat at a table in what appeared to be a courtroom and smirked as the verdict was given. Dr. Harris questioned whether he wanted to read this man's bio. He felt like this was possibly an invasion of Graces' and Draco's privacy. He sat there for a few moments playing with the edge of the page, every once in a while catching a few words here and there: killed, tortured, manipulated, lead, corrupted.

Before Dr. Harris could catch anymore words or even decide whether to read the section there was a violent banging on the bathroom door and an unfamiliar voice demanding he come out. Dr. Harris frowned, but quietly put the book down with his clothes and walked over to the door. Immediately when he finished unlocking the door it was thrown open and a short, heart-faced man was glaring at him.

"Good morning," Dr. Harris greeted, looking down at this new man.

"It's afternoon," the short man pointed out moving around him and pushing him out of the doorway and into the room towards Graces' bed where Draco, Snape and another school-aged boy stood.

"Hard to tell when you're being kept in a dungeon," Dr. Harris shrugged, sidestepping the man's second push. "I don't believe there is any need to be aggressive, is there?" he asked politely stopping in the middle of the room and looking down.

A sharp blow to his middle answered his question. Dr. Harris bend down grunting in pain as his abdomen throbbed mercilessly.

"There isn't a need." Dr. Harris didn't need to look up to know the other man was smiling. He could hear it in his voice. This maniacal sadistic happiness that dripped out of his words and into the air. "Stand up," the man ordered, placing the end of his wand against Dr. Harris' adams apple and forcefully jabbing him.

Dr. Harris did as he was instructed and moved slowly backward. His new captor seemed to be enjoying himself. His dark green eyes danced jubilantly as Dr. Harris' skin prickled in trepidation. Dr. Harris did as he was instructed and took a seat beside Graces. He looked over to Snape silently asking the question of what was going on, but the tall lanky man didn't even seem to acknowledge that he was there.

"Shall we begin then?" the man said cheerfully, moving to take Graces' blanket off of her.

"I would like Nott to leave," Graces stipulated, stopping the exam. "He is not welcome to be in here for this."

The man stared at Graces for a few moments, but didn't send the other boy out. Instead he violently tore the covers off her, exposing her to the room.

"Hey!" Dr. Harris bellowed, grabbing the sheets back and throwing them on. "If she doesn't want him in the room, then he leaves! Get him out!"

"It isn't an odd request, Rookwood," Snape drawled, stopping the man from using whatever spell was on his lips.

"Are you siding with the muggle?" Rookwood asked dangerously, lowering his wand and glaring at Snape.

"I am siding with the young witch in the bed." Snape sneered. "She doesn't want her ex in the room and I agree that it is inappropriate." Nott opened his mouth to argue but stopped when Snape turned to him. His face darkened menacingly at the young boy about to talk back. "When the healer is finished I will notify you."

Nott looked over to the healer, but when he saw that the other man was not going to fight for his presence in the room he stormed out. Dr. Harris was still standing in front of Graces when the healer turned his gaze back onto him.

"Do I need to move you?"

Dr. Harris took a step to the side and watched the man bend over Graces. None of this seemed right. The healer didn't seem at all concerned with Graces' injuries, just amused as though the sight of her abdomen sewn together was merely a funny trick and not at all serious. Graces seemed to notice this as well, her eyes followed the healers' waiting for him to make a move.

"How did you keep her from bleeding to death if you were not able to use blood replenishers?" Rookwood asked, looking over at Snape.

"Draco supplied her with his own blood."

"I was told muggle blood was brought in."

"That doesn't mean it was used," Snape pointed out curtly. "Mr. Malfoy did not allow any of the blood to get even near her."

"Isn't that good for you," the healer smiled, running a long finger down Graces' jaw line. "Merlin knows what would have happened if he had allowed it." Graces didn't respond. She just glared coldly at the healer and waited for him to continue. "I'm going to do a few spells that will tell me everything you have been given in the past few days," the man went on flourishing his wand, and then looking up in the air as tiny gold letters appeared in front of him.

"Alcohol, interesting."

"It is completely in the realm of restrictions," Draco pointed out, moving his hand to his sister's.

"It is," the healer clipped, looking over at their hands intertwined. "Miss Malfoy, are you aware your bones have healed together incorrectly?"

"She's been told," Dr. Harris announced, moving closer to Graces and watching the man in front of him with a disturbed look.

"Why didn't you reset the bones?" the healer asked casually. "Or at least put her arm back in it's socket? Resetting an arm isn't difficult."

"The patient declined medical treatment," Dr. Harris clipped. "She wanted to wait for a healer. Which is understandable. Especially considering she is allotted nothing for pain," Dr. Harris added bitterly.

The healer stared at him for a moment, evaluating him slowly, before a sinister smile formed in the corner of his mouth.

"Well, she wanted to wait for a healer and now I am here. Reset her bones."

"What?" Dr. Harris asked, feeling as though the floor had fallen out from underneath him as the room filled with sounds of outcries. Even Snape was a part of the clamour saying that it was unnecessary.

"Reset her bones," the devil repeated, sitting happily on Graces' bed waiting for his entertainment to begin.

Dr. Harris didn't even have the chance to say anything before Draco stepped in.

"Listen here, Rookwood, and listen carefully. Right now you may be on top and we may just be toys for you to play with, but think for a moment. What are you going to do when we are the ones back on the top? When I am the one favored by our Lord."

Rookwood smiled and stood up placing his cold hand on Draco's cheek.

"Oh, son," he chuckled. "You don't even realize it's over. You and your family are done. Our Lord is just letting you dangle on a string for his cats to play with. You are not going to succeed and when you don't that string will be cut." Draco didn't flinch from the man's words. He stood as a pillar before him waiting for him to reconsider. He stared at Rookwood's malicious eyes and with his own told a story of sheer hatred. Rookwood could decide to still hurt Graces, but with that decision meant that Draco would tear him limb from limb once he was back in the Lord's good graces.

"It's your funeral, Rookwood," Draco whispered darkly.

The healer smiled and with his wand moved Draco out of the way.

"Muggle, begin."

Dr. Harris looked at Graces sitting in the bed, wiggling as though she thought there was a possibility she could get away herself. He watched as she moved the tubes attached to her, as her black and blue side of the face became more prominent as the rest of her skin turned sallow. She was scared, trapped and desperate. He knew the pain had not left her. Not really. The alcohol had dulled it, clouded her senses to what she was feeling, but she could feel the echos. She was hurt. A hurt child, desperate to not feel that hurt again. Not be helpless as someone tortured her.

"No," Dr. Harris defied strongly.

"Excuse me?"

"No. I refuse. I am not going to be apart of this girl's torture."

"You're going to do what I tell you to do," Rookwood hissed

"I don't make bargains with the devil," Dr. Harris spat.

"Some of us in this room may be willing to damn themselves for the sake of having a few more breaths of air." Dr. Harris continued looking over at Snape. "But I am not. No one is taking my soul from me. I will not hurt this girl."

Dr. Harris knew what this was. This was his last stand, the last thing he would ever do. Men like this killed and hurt for fun, for their own sick pleasure. He had a choice. He could do as he was told and like a coward pray that it would allow him his life or he could resolve to be the man he wanted and in this last act die the man he wanted to be. He stood before the beast in front of him ready for what was to come. Rookwood raised a curious eyebrow at Dr. Harris' resolve, but after a moment smiled.

"You know what the best part of being magical is?" He asked politely, twirling his wand. "You don't have to take no for an answer." Dr. Harris felt the blood in his veins vibrate as the dark wood pointed to his chest. "Crucio."

Dr. Harris didn't even have the chance to move away before he was hit and pain consumed him entirely. He screamed out as hot invisible knives dragged through his skin, tearing him apart and yet leaving him intact. He thrashed along the floor, screaming and trying to cling to something. Graces voice screamed for his torture to stop. Draco held her back, but he didn't see it for long. Soon he was away, away from all of it.

He didn't know pain like this could exist, pain so intense that it lit up the world in white. He thought pain like this would be dark or red, but it was just blazing light. He longed for the dark. The dark was quiet, peaceful... ending.

"Are we done?" Rookwood asked, lowering his wand and ending the spell. "Are we ready to comply?"

"Primum non nocere. Primum non nocere." Harris tried to hold onto those words, they were everything. First, do no harm. He had vowed this. It wasn't even a part of the oath, that's a misconception. His Hippocratic oath had never entailed 'do no harm'. No, he took this upon himself. He vowed to himself that he would do no harm to his patients. Oaths were supposed to be hard. You make them so that in instances like this they will serve as a life jacket in a dangerous sea. This was the kind of man he wanted to be, the kind of man he swore himself to be. "Just. Kill. Me," he panted, looking up from the floor. "Kill me."

"Such dramatics." Rookwood tutted, turning to Graces. "You didn't start begging for death 'til the fifth crucio. Maybe you should show the muggle how it's done?"

"No, please," Dr. Harris rasped. "Leave her alone. Just-just leave her alone. Look at her," Harris pleaded. "If you hurt her anymore you could kill her. Please, please stop."

"You want me to stop?" Harris nodded and sputtered out a begging sob. "Then do as I say."

"I won't," Dr. Harris choked. "I won't."

"Severus, you really should have trained him better. I would think that after so much time you would have trained him better than this."

Snape looked sideways over at his colleague, but continued to just stand there with a bored expression.

"I never was one for pets," he muttered under his breath irritatedly.

"They aren't so bad once you teach them obedience," Rookwood offered, drawing his wand on Dr. Harris again. "Imperio."

Draco moved closer to his sister as Rookwood placed Harris under the Imperius curse. He didn't know exactly what the Death Eater was going to have the muggle do, but he knew it was going to harm Graces in some way. Harris had made it obvious what would truly torture him and Rookwood was not one to miss an opportunity. His hand tightened around his own wand as Rookwood leaned in and whispered something in Harris' ear.

"Draco," Graces whimpered, moving closer into his chest as Dr. Harris' blank eyes turned to her.

"It's going to be okay," the blond boy lied, tightening his grip on the handle of his wand and waiting for Harris to make the first move.

"Don't hurt him," Graces breathed.

Draco frowned at his sister's statement and looked over at her for a moment unable to believe what she had asked. And it was then, in that moment, that the muggle lunged for _his_ throat.

Draco tried vainly to fight the man off of him as he heard Graces' screams. But the older man was stronger and continued to strangle him on the ground completely helpless to stop himself. It didn't matter how hard Draco hit him, or that his fingers had dug so violently into his arm that his whole nail bed had disappeared into his flesh, Dr. Harris didn't/couldn't stop because he wasn't really there. The edges around Draco's eyes began to go black and he could feel himself beginning to fall away.

"Stay down," Snape growled, holding his shoulder down with one hand. Draco looked around to see where Harris was and panicked when he saw the older man pinning his sister down to the castle floor. "I said stay down," Snape snarled, pushing Draco down so hard his head hit the stone floor. "Rookwood, that is enough. Remove the spell."

The healer laughed, but flicked his wand ending the spell. Draco watched as Dr. Harris came back to himself and stared wide-eyed at Graces beneath him, whimpering in pain. The doctor quickly let go of her arms that he was pinning and hurriedly began checking her abdomen and ribs.

"How's your breathing?" he asked desperately, placing his ear on her chest and listening. Graces just continued to sob on the floor, she shook her head and just sobbed. "Oh my god, what have I done? I couldn't stop. God forgive me I—"

"You were choking her brother, so she fell off the bed to stop you," Rookwood sang. "It was a very daring move on her part. Too bad she didn't grab her wand first or she could have stopped you. Unfortunately for her she didn't," the healer sighed. "She doesn't seem to have much fight in her without her wand. It took you two seconds to overpower her and pin her to the ground."

"She's hurt!" Dr, Harris exclaimed, picking Graces up carefully and placing her on the bed. His hands moving around wildly as he stabilized her. "Anyone can overpower a hurt child. You-you monster. You—"

"I wasn't the one hurting her," Rookwood reminded. "You hurt her."

"YOU MADE ME!" Dr. Harris screamed, whirling around. "I would have never." Draco watched as the physician put a trembling hand over his mouth to keep from getting sick and looked away. He had performed that spell. He had taken away someone's ability to control themselves. "You possessed me," Dr. Harris choked. "You possessed me. Like a demon winding in my skin."

"I did," the healer acknowledged, casually walking forward. "And I can do it all again." Dr. Harris took a step back as the man drew closer. "I can make you do unspeakable things to this girl and I will if you don't start following orders."

"You feel bad because you threw her to the ground and pinned her so she couldn't move? That's nothing," Rookwood laughed. "Some men aren't creative. They use their fists to hurt an individual with no mind to the other tools around them and others... well, others have more imagination. Can you guess which one I am, Dr. Harris?"

"I have an idea," Dr. Harris acknowledged lowly.

"Good," Rookwood smiled, "Then you will reset her bones."

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"It's going to be okay," Draco murmured, his hot breath tickling the side of Graces' head as she nestled against his neck.

"I know."

"It's just going to hurt," Draco repeated. "You're not in any real danger. It will just hurt. The muggle wanted to do this the other day, remember? It's just going to hurt."

"She shouldn't have to go through this hurt," Dr. Harris said hollowly. "This shouldn't be happening."

"Well, it is, isn't it," Draco snapped. "It's happening, so you better do a damn good job."

Graces closed her eyes as Draco pressed her closer to his chest. She really wasn't that frightened, not with Draco holding her close. She felt safe and at ease despite what was about to happen. Draco was holding her and she was confident that Harris would know what he was doing.

"He'll do a good job," Graces assured. "He's a good doctor. He'll do a good job. He won't do me harm."

Graces' silver eyes met Harris in that last statement and she offered him a weak smile which he couldn't seem to bring himself to return. He opened his mouth and Graces knew another apology was on his lips, but she shook her head and refused to take it.

"It won't kill you," Dr. Harris promised. "You've already survived the worst, Graces. You can do this easy." Graces nodded and took a deep breath. She tried to put herself far away from what was about to begin. She thought of nights outside the manor playing quidditch, her and her mom shopping, her father and her watching the quidditch matches and him reminding her to behave like a lady. "One... two..." Neville. "Three."

Graces muffled her scream against her brother's shirt as her arm was popped back into it's socket. It hurt. It definitely hurt, but it was nothing really compared to what she had felt. She began to wonder if she would ever view pain the same again. Were her days of innocence over? Could she ever go back to how she felt before. She knew pain now. She could feel that knowledge in more than just her bones, it was in her heart.

"I'm just going to bandage this up against you," Dr. Harris informed, wrapping her arm in a sling. "Hey." Graces looked up at Dr. Harris' kind face and waited for him to say more. "You are doing so great right now, Graces. You're such a brave girl."

Graces let go of the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and nodded. It was such a patronizing thing for him to say. She felt like a child who just was patted on the head for allowing a cut to be fixed. She wasn't a child anymore. At least no one really treated her like one any longer.

_Maybe that's it,_ Graces thought. _Maybe I don't want to be an adult._

Graces closed her eyes as Dr. Harris started resetting other bones. It was grueling, non-stop agony. It took him a long time to fix her fingers because they needed to be re-broken and the same went for her upper arm. It wasn't until the doctor got to her hips and leg that begging had become her main source of communication, but the Death Eaters in the room didn't seem to care. Rookwood insisted it be done.

"It can't be!" Dr. Harris bellowed. "I don't have the correct tools! She's healed too much. I have no idea what is going on there. I could permanently injure her if I re-broke it. She could never walk the same. If you send Snape to get me tools and—"

"I'll do whatever you need done," Rookwood offered, taking his wand out and coming near to the bed.

"Get away from her," Dr. Harris growled, his fingertips pressing on the man's chest. Rookwood glared at the muggle before pushing him out of the way and positioning one of his hands aggressively on Graces' thigh causing her to let out a yelp. Graces closed her eyes and waited for the spell that Rookwood had playing on his lips. She was under no delusions about what was going to happen. The healer was not going to be gentle like Harris, he was going to use the most painful spell he could. She gripped Draco tightly and tried to calm herself, already she was muttering nonsense prayers that she knew would be unanswered. Either the Gods were dead or they just didn't care.

But in the end it wasn't her screaming. It was Rookwood. Rookwood was on the floor of her room screaming as Dr. Harris tackled him to the ground and drove the odd butter knife he had used for her surgery into his side. The death eater shouted for help as Dr. Harris continued to ravage him like a rabid animal, but no help came. Snape seemed to be stunned by the sheer audacity of it all, and Draco didn't care to move a finger to help his sister's torturer. It wasn't until Rookwood screamed at Snape specifically that the potion master took out his wand and cruciated the doctor.

"STOP IT! STOP IT!" Graces screamed above Harris' cries, but Snape pretended not to hear her pleas and continued.

"Graces, there is nothing we can do for the muggle," Draco hissed, putting his hand over her mouth. "Be silent. He dug his own grave."

"Draco, get off the bed and be useful," Snape ordered, nodding his head to Rookwood.

Draco gave Graces a severe glare before releasing his hold on her mouth to help the man bleeding on the floor. The world around her began to spin out of control. Graces could feel the bile bubbling up in her chest as Dr. Harris' screams continued to echo through the room. She closed her eyes to try and get a hold of herself. If she couldn't see the world moving around her maybe the dizziness she was experiencing would come to a halt. But it didn't. Instead she found herself vomiting off the side of her bed, feeling as though she were going to fall head first into the ground.

Maybe it was this disorientation that caused her next actions. This insanity that was beginning to develop in her head from the screams. Either way when she saw Rookwood stand and point his wand to the muggle she found her own wand in her hand pointed at him.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Zere we go. Zat's right. Time to wake up, ma chérie."

"Mum?"

"No, pas maman," a gentle voice whispered, while a soft hand brushed around her cheek. "Réveillez-vous. Up-up. Mum," the woman scoffed. "Do I sound like your maman?"

Graces slowly peeled her eyes open at the woman's voice. It had been so long since she had felt warm and at ease waking up from sleep that it took her longer to actually wake. Her lids were sore, but not with bruising pain like she had felt for the past few days, just tender at being used. They demanded more rest.

"You can rest after I examine you," the voice smiled. "Zis should not take long."

Graces opened her eyes and looked up to see her primary healer sitting on her bed.

"Guérisseuse Durand, bonjour," Graces greeted in surprise.

"Bonjour." The healer smiled. "May I finish examining you?"

Graces nodded her head hesitantly and slowly sat up in the bed. She stared at her legs and arms. All now perfectly healed. She had no idea what day it was, or how long she had been out, but it appeared that she had been fully healed in the time she was sleeping. Hesitantly she reached to lift her shirt, but before she could see her abdomen the healer had kindly taken her hand.

"Uh-uh," the woman tutted. "Not everyfing can be healed so quickly. Some sings take time. Do not worry, Graces. Professor Snape has assured me he will be able to heal your scarring in time." Graces let her hands drop to her side and Mrs. Durand smiled. "Your face is completely healed," she informed happily, taking a mirror and showing Graces. "Like it was never touched."

Graces brought a shaking hand up to her cheek. It didn't seem real. She looked exactly the same. There were no scars, discoloration, bruising, nothing. She looked untouched as the healer said and yet, she knew she was touched. She stared at her reflection and closed one eye. And there she was in darkness with only a small fraction of light. Her proof that she had in fact been touched.

The healer carefully took the mirror out of Graces' hand and tilted her chin so the blonde was looking at her.

"What do you see?"

"The collar of your uniform and-and the ends of your silver hair," Graces breathed, closing her eyes completely.

"Not my face? Or my shoulder? Only ze bottom inside corner?"

"Yes," Graces rasped, closing her eyes tighter.

"And when you have bof ze eyes open?"

"I don't want to do this." Graces whimpered. "I can't."

"It is already done," Durand clipped. "Now answer ze question."

Graces opened her eyes and stared at the woman in front of her. "I can see you, but everything on the left is-is gone."

"Everyfing? You are sure?"

"I can only see the inner part," Graces sniffed. "That's it."

"Zen zat is not everyfing," the healer pointed out, handing Graces a handkerchief. "Come-come Graces, I will not have zis. No more tears. We shall replace the eye. You will have full vision after—"

"No."

"Qu'est-ce que vous avez dit?" the healer asked, astonished.

"I said no," Graces repeated, wiping her face clean from tears. "I will not have a fake eye. No."

Madam Durand placed her hands in her lap quietly and stared at Graces sadly.

"I cannot repair your eye, my darling. I tried. I sink I must have worked on it for two hours as you slept. It cannot be fixed. Your—comment dit-on rétine?—is almost fully detached and irreparable. I have strengvened what I could, so no more damage will come, but... zis will be ze most sight you could have out of zat eye."

"I know," Graces swallowed. "But I will not have a fake eye. I'll be called Mad-Eye Malfoy if word ever got out." Graces sniffed back a sob, but continued on. "And no one must ever know. People will be able to tell if I had a fake eye. I'll be seen as weak."

"Many advances have been made since Monsieur Moody lost his eye," the healer argued. "I can have one made that looks exactly the same."

"No," Graces whispered, turning away. "You will not take my eye and you will tell no one."

"I have known you your whole life," the healer insisted, turning Graces' face back to her. "I brought you into zis world and—"

"Severus Snape brought me into this world," Graces corrected angrily. "I do not want to talk about this."

"Fine," the older woman forfeited frostily. "Zen what do you wish to talk about?"

Graces took a moment to try to process everything going on around her and then realized what the real question was hanging in the air.

"Why are you here?" she asked slowly. "You weren't supposed to come yet."

"What do you remember?"

"I don't know. It's all... fuzzy," Graces breathed, thinking back.

"Do you remember raising your wand against healer Rookwood?" Graces nodded. "He almost beat you to deaf after. You're lucky you have such a protective brozer and zat your godfazer was zere to protect you as well."

"Snape protected me?" Graces frowned.

"He did. He also ensured zat you would be made well right away."

"How?"

"I do not know zis. All I know is I was owled by Severus and I came right away. You can imagine my shock at seeing you."

"Where's Draco?" Graces asked looking around the room.

"He is sleeping. He had suffered some minor injuries from ze fight."

"And-and Dr. Harris?"

"Ze muggle?" Madam Durand frowned. Graces nodded and waited on baited breath for the healer to answer, but the woman just stared at her quizzically.

"Is he alive?" Graces asked.

"Who knows," the woman shrugged. "He was barely alive when I got here. Stupid muggle, attacking a wizard."

"You have no idea what happened to him? Graces asked desperately. "None? Do you know if Snape took him or if Rookwood did?"

"I know not," the healer clipped. "And I don't sink you should be concerning yourself with such soughts. Now, dormez. All will be better with new light. You sleep."

"No! I want to know if Dr. Harris is alright. I want to know if—"

"Look at me," the witch snarled, grabbing Graces by the shoulder and shaking her. "Forget ze muggle. He never existed. I'm going to pretend you didn't ask me zis. I am going to leave here and convince myself it is all the potions I gave you talking. Because I want to believe you are not foolish enough to be caring about some filfy muggle." Graces nodded her head nervously and allowed the healer to lay her down on the pillow. "You're a good girl, Graces. A sweet and kind girl, but do not forget who and where you are. Not ever. Not for one moment, because ze last time you forgot it almost cost you your life and your brother his sanity."

Graces nodded apprehensively at the woman's words and didn't argue when she began tucking her into the bed. She kept her mouth closed and her eyes down, but in her mind she was not submissive. She was not going to forget about Harris. She just couldn't. Not after... not after everything.

"Ze muggle is not your concern," the healer continued on gently. "Go to sleep. Rest and get better. Be fankful, Graces. You're alive."

_I'm alive because of him..._

"I am writing to your school. I don't want you to be in class until Wednesday. Your body still needs time to adjust."

"I've missed a week and a day already. I can't—"

"Please, I've heard of students here missing 'ole semesters," the healer scoffed. "You'll be fine. I am going to write to your school mediwitch saying you are sick and I want you to rest."

"Won't she wonder why I didn't go to her?"

"You're a Malfoy. I fink ze answer would be obvious." The healer smiled cockily as she placed a few vials of potion into her bag. "You only want the best. And I—" the slender woman gestured to herself, "—am ze best."

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Thomas. Thomas, wake up." Thomas groaned and rolled away from the irritating noise beside his bed. "Thomas. Thomas, wake up."

The younger boy slowly came to and was immediately surprised to see Graces sitting on his bed in her dressing gown.

"G-graces? W-what are y-you d-doing he—"

"Shhh," Graces hushed angrily. "Do you want to wake your whole year up?"

Thomas shook his head and shyly looked around the room. He blushed red when he thought about what rumors could come from this, but kept his mouth shut and waited for Graces to continue.

"Thomas, I need a favor," Graces whispered. "May I use the portkey to your home?"

"W-what?" Thomas breathed. "W-why?"

"I really want to be with Octavian. I just want to hold him for a bit."

"A-are you w-w-well enough t-to l-leave?" Graces nodded hopefully at the question and Thomas found his hand being cupped desperately as she waited for an answer to her odd request. "I c-can bring him t-t-to you," he offered, hoping Graces would settle for that.

"No," Graces sighed. "No, I want to hold him in his nursery."

"I'll come with you then," Thomas compromised, moving to get out of the bed.

"Thomas," Graces hiccuped, stopping him from moving further. "You know I may never have this. The opportunity to wake up in the middle of the night, go into my sleeping child's nursery and quietly hold my dreaming child." The world stilled around them at Graces' words. "Please let me have this," Graces begged. "I just want to hold him; imagine what the future will be for him, what job he will have, who he will marry, what house he would be sorted into, who he will fall in love with and marry. I thought that I had all the time in the world. I would grow old, but-but now... Please let me have this."

"You're g-going t-to be f-fine, G-Graces," Thomas promised.

"I think we both know that's not true," Graces whispered pointedly.

Thomas stared at her for a moment. She was right. As much as he didn't want to accept it, she was right. There was a very good chance that the closest Graces would ever come to being a mother was being Octavian's godmother. He had always thought the Malfoys were untouchable, that Graces was stronger than any force against her, but after these last few days he knew that wasn't true. She was mortal just like everyone else he loved, and mortals died. Gingerly he took off his father's wedding band and handed it over to her.

"Just say ch-cherry b-blossems and you'll b-b-be in his r-room," he murmured, staring at the gold as it glinted in Graces hand. "The H-Hogwarts motto will b-bring you b-back."

Graces nodded and held the ring tight in her palm.

"Cherry blossoms," she whispered meeting Thomas' eyes evenly.

The next moment Graces found herself standing in Octavian's room. She looked around at the light blue walls that she had painted days ago and the toys she had meticulously picked out. It all seemed so long ago when in reality it had just happened. Quietly she made her way over to the crib and smiled at the sleeping child at the bottom. It was late and the whole Higgs mansion seemed to be asleep aside from the fire crackling in the background.

Graces checked the pocket of her robe to make sure the paper was still there and then silently tip toed out of Octavian's room and into the room beside it. The torch lights were all dimmed around the room as Alethea slept with books and papers spread out around her. Graces crept slowly over to the busy bed and debated once again whether she wanted to do this. She could leave now. She could go back to Hogwarts or do as she had told Thomas. She could be exactly who she was before this all began.

_You know that's a lie._

"Alethea," Graces nudged. "Alethea, wake up."

"Graces?" Alethea asked, sitting up and reaching for her glasses. "What—Oh my god, is it Thomas?"

"No, no. Thomas is fine," Graces reassured, putting her hands on the older woman's shoulders to keep her from jumping out of the bed. "He's fine."

"Oh, thank god," Alethea breathed, sitting back against the headboard and clutching her chest. "I thought that perhaps—"

"No, he's fine."

Alethea nodded contently, before frowning and looking at Graces seated on her bed.

"Then what are you doing here?"

Graces hesitated for a moment and fiddled with the invisible ring on her finger.

"I was hoping you could help me use one of those... the muggle fire calling device. It-it starts with a T..."

"A telephone?" Alethea asked frowning. "You want to use a telephone." Graces nodded nervously and kept her eyes down. "What ever for?"

"I don't want to say."

Graces could feel Alethea's eyes on her, but kept her own averted. Her skin had begun to prickle with anticipation and her hands were clammy. She felt wrong, so very wrong.

"I have one. It's at the university where I work. Thomas setup a portkey so I could go there for work."

"I thought we agreed you would quit," Graces scowled.

"I didn't," Alethea clipped. "I've arranged it with the university I work with. I am no longer teaching, but I am still employed for research, curriculum development and they expect me to publish quite a bit more while I am gone."

"What did you tell them?" Graces asked suspiciously.

"The truth. That Octavian and Thomas' parents were killed and that I, being the only living family member, have inherited custody."

"You told them nothing else?" Graces prodded.

"I would prefer for the people I work with to not consider me mad," Alethea said frostily. "So no. I said nothing about this world. Draco gave me all the documents I needed so they people I work with would have no questions." Graces nodded and tried to will the sick feeling in her stomach that came with her brother's name away. "Do you need to use the telephone tonight?"

"Yes," Graces rasped. "Yes, tonight. Now."

"It's late, the person you may be calling could be—"

"I need to use it now," Graces insisted sternly. "It cannot wait."

The older woman stared at for perplexed for a few moments before nodding her head. Graces waited as the squib dressed and asked a house elf to stay with Octavian, the whole time she found herself pacing the floor of the hall, the thought still overwhelming in her mind to go back home.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Graces lied. "I just want to go."

A few moments later Graces got her wish and was standing in the office. The room was dark, but before she could take her wand out the older woman had flipped a switch.

"Oh, sorry," Alethea apologised. "I always forget that you all are so used to torch lights... These always seem to blind you for a few moments."

"Where's the telephone," Graces grumbled, rubbing her eye.

"It's right here. Do you know how to use it?" Graces shook her head. "This is the handset, you just put it up to your ear and dial the number of the person you want to call. You'll hear a ringing and then if they are home they will pick up their phone, that's been ringing from your call, and greet you." Graces moved closer and placed her ear near the "handset" she heard an odd droning tone, but decided not to ask. "Now you don't need to speak loudly," Alethea continued. "Just speak as though someone were across the table from you. Understand?"

"I understand..."

"Do you want me to dial for you?" Alethea offered, still staring curiously at the young girl beside her.

Graces was sure she understood, but at the same time she didn't really want to look foolish. She reached in her pocket and handed Alethea the numbers Dr. Harris had written down for her.

"Which one do you want me to dial?"

"The first one."

All of the sudden it all became real. Graces could feel her throat go dry as Alethea dialed the numbers into the phone. What if Dr. Harris didn't answer? What if he would never answer?

"No one's answering."

"What does that mean?" Graces asked, her voice becoming slightly raised. "What does that mean?"

"It could mean whoever you're calling isn't home. Or that they are asleep."

"Can you try it again?" Graces asked, moving over and taking the phone. "Can I try it again?" Graces didn't wait for the squib to answer. She began at once redialing the number. "Please answer," she prayed. "Please, please, please answer. What is this?" Graces demanded when an odd inhuman voice sounded over the speaker.

"That's a voicemail," Alethea explained, placing her hand on a button and making the phone go back to that odd droning sound. "I don't think you would want to leave one of those. It records messages for whoever you are calling if they can't answer the phone. Graces, who are you—"

"Don't touch me!" Graces screamed, ripping her shoulders away from the other woman and beginning to dial the phone number again. "He has to answer. He has to. Come on, Harris, answer. Answer!"

Each long ring felt like physical pain. Like her insides were being torn up from inside her.

"Hello?" A groggy voice answered. "Hello?"

And suddenly just like that the pain was gone. Graces heart skipped a beat as she heard the irritated voice of Dr. Harris on the other line. It was so unreal, for a moment she wondered if she was imagining it.

"Dr. Harris?" Graces breathed staring blankly forward.

"Yes, this is he. What time is it? Do you have any idea how late it is?"

"Are-are you well?" Graces asked a hint of desperation overtaking her voice.

"Yes..." Dr. Harris said slowly, the irritation in his voice diminishing. "Do I... do I know you? You sound familiar." Graces stood open mouthed listening to the other end of the phone. Listening to the man who saved her life breathe. "Who is this?"

"I-I'm no one. I'm so sorry for disturbing you." Graces blinked back the relieved tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes and tried to clear her throat so she didn't sound so choked up. "I just wanted to hear that you were well. And I have. You have a good life, Dr. Harris," she squeaked, her heart swelling in her chest with joy. Graces hurriedly wiped her tears away and tried to compose herself. "I wish you all the best. Good night."

"Wait, wait!" Graces stopped and kept the phone's head to her ear. "Are you okay? Do you need help?" Dr. Harris asked unsurely.

Graces stood there with the phone to her ear. This was her chance to ask for help. Dr. Harris had said he wanted to help her. He said he knew someone who would tear the earth apart to find her and help her. All she had to do was take this first step and ask for him to help her. He was a good man. She knew that and she trusted him. She just needed to ask.

_How is he supposed to live through this? He tried to help you and almost got himself killed. He's alive in spite of you._

"Good night," she murmured, ignoring Dr. Harris' voice as it called out to her and placing the phone down.

"Graces?"

"I'm going to spend the evening with Octavian," Graces informed hollowly. "I'll take care of him tonight. You don't need to bother yourself with him."

Alethea had a million questions to ask, but before she could utter even one of them Graces was gone, leaving the older woman alone in her office to wonder.


	50. Chapter 50

Neville never really felt like he belonged in his house, but over the past few years it had in many ways become his home. He didn't feel odd sitting in the common room or asking someone if they would help him with an essay or of they wanted to play a game of Exploding Snap... but now he felt like a stranger among his peers. He felt like a guest sitting in a parlor. He tried to focus on his homework which was slipping awfully because of recent events, but he couldn't manage to read a single sentence of the book in his hands without flipping his book to the pages where he kept Graces' letter from Monday night.

_Longbottom,_

_Would you believe me if I told you I'm fine? I bet you wouldn't, but I am. I'm actually completely healed. Our family healer came and fixed me right up yesterday. I know I was supposed to return tomorrow for school, but my healer feels I need the time to rest, and if I am being completely honest with you, which I want to be, I need to think. Please don't visit me. I'm sorry._

_G.M._

She was right. He didn't believe she was fine. He thought of her in that bed, of how distorted her body was, how battered her face was and couldn't will himself to believe that she was fine. And honestly, if he hadn't seen Draco in class today he probably would have gone to the dungeons against her wishes. But the blond was in class and Neville knew Draco would not leave the dungeons if she wasn't well.

"Hey, Nev, want to join us for a game of Exploding Snap?" Dean asked, sitting across from Seamus on the floor by the fire.

"No, I, uh, should finish reading this chapter," Neville murmured, moving his eyes back to the same paragraph he had been staring at. "Thanks though."

"Come on, Nev," Seamus moaned. "We never see ya anymore."

"You see me," Neville shrugged, a tinge of guilt beginning to spread within him.

"No, we really don't," Dean argued. "You're always with Malfoy and even when she's been gone you've been absent. It's like you don't want to be here with us ever. I don't even feel like I know you anymore. You're not even a dorm mate. You're never with us."

Neville didn't know what to say to that. He sat in the chair for a moment stunned at Dean's candor. He was aware that he had been absent, he was just thinking of it, but he didn't expect for his friends to be pointing it out like this.

"Just come sit with us, Neville," Dean ordered. "Or I'm going to start calling you Longbottom."

Neville closed his book and awkwardly shuffled over to the other boys, before taking a seat on the floor.

"That's a good man," Dean grinned, slapping Neville warmly on the back. The sandy haired boy gave a small smile, but found himself still feeling uncomfortable. "So, Neville—our stranger living among us—how have you been?"

"Good," Neville blurted. _I'm just going mad because the woman I love was almost beat to death by death eaters._ "Good."

"That's it? Just good?" Seamus asked, waiting for more.

"Uh, really good?"

"Come one Neville what have you been up to? What's new in the life of Neville Longbottom?"

"Nothing," Neville lied. Dean sighed and eyed him for a moment before asking how tutoring with Malfoy was. "It's going fine," Neville shrugged, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his gut that came with thinking about Graces."She's... she's great. My grades have improved a lot. Anyways," Neville broke off, "how are you and Ginny?"

"I don't know," Dean shrugged. "We fight a lot."

"Couples fight," Neville offered sympathetically.

"Yeah, well... some days I'm sick of fighting."

"Then," Neville hesitated for a moment "you don't think she's worth fighting for."

"That's a pretty far jump," Seamus frowned.

"Just how I see it," Neville blushed. "I'm not telling you what to do or anything. I'm just saying some people are worth fighting for. You just need to decide if Ginny is."

"It's not that easy," Dean sighed. "You've never been in a relationship. You just don't understand how many other things factor into it."

Neville tightened his jaw at Dean's words and glared at him irritatedly.

"I'm not saying you'll never be in a relationship," Dean added defensively. "I'm just saying you don't know."

"Right," Neville clipped. "Well, then do you love her?" Dean blushed and nodded noncommittally. "It's either a stern yes or no," Neville prodded. "You either love her or you don't."

"It's still too soon to tell, in my opinion."

Neville frowned at Dean's _opinion,_ but let the subject drop. For the rest of the time he played Exploding Snap, chatted about mundane things like Quidditch and just basically tried to be present even though he was a million miles away. Eventually Ron and Harry joined in which he was thankful for because it took some of the attention off him.

He just wasn't there and he was not good at pretending to be. Part of him wished he could just be honest with the boys sitting around him. That he could tell them about what had happened to Graces and that now he was worried out of his mind. Neville just wished he could tell someone, anyone. Graces needed help and he was powerless to help her. He wished he had listened to Harris and got Dumbledore. Even if Graces hated him forever she would have been well. He still would have worried about her, but it wouldn't be like this.

"You really suck at games, Nev," Dean laughed after Neville once again played a bad hand.

"I know... I keep hoping the cards will explode so I'm not forced to lose again and again, but these ones don't seem to explode that often."

"They're really old," Ron sighed. "They were originally Bills and he gave them to me. They just don't have much snap left in them."

"Maybe that's a good thing considering the last time they had snap in them your eyebrows got singed off," Dean grinned causing everyone, Neville included, to laugh.

"You're really one to laugh, Seamus," Ron pointed out, shoving the other boy good naturedly.

And so the night went with friendly banter and meaningless conversation that Neville forced himself to participate in. He knew that this was wrong. He should be enjoying himself like the rest of the group, but he just couldn't. Each conversation felt like nails being dragged along a chalkboard. He didn't enjoy spending time with his friends, he was enduring it. It wasn't their fault and he made sure to hide the feeling, but he was miserable. All he could think about was Graces. He was sure she was well as she said, but he couldn't stop thinking of all these horrible scenarios where she wasn't.

He went to bed that night trying to not think about such disturbing images, but it was no use. When he closed his eyes he was back in her room looking at her broken on the bed, helpless to really help her. Neville rolled over and buried his head into his pillow as though he could hide from the memory. He did want to help her, he just had no idea as to how he could. There was no way he could tell someone about any of this and he wasn't sure what he, at sixteen, could possibly do for her.

_Montague seems to be able to do something..._

Neville ignored the feelings of resentment that bubbled up inside him at the thought. He had told himself that he was not going to become bitter over Montague, not when he could very well be the man to save her. If anything he should be thankful. Loving Graces shouldn't be about possession. He didn't love her because she was the one in his arms, he loved her because he admired her for who she was; should she die she would no longer be anything. Neville swallowed the lump growing in his throat and reaffirmed to himself that he would be thankful for any choice Graces made that would save her from harm.

_If only I could keep her from harm... Or if only she would let me help her. We could go to Dumbledore and he would be able to figure something out. I'm sure of it. Or she could go into hiding._

_Graces would never go into hiding._

_Maybe she would if Draco came._

_Draco, Thomas, Octavian, her mother and her father... Good luck getting all of them to agree. Her father is stuck in Azkaban, as long as he is there she is not going to run away. She wants it all. Mum, Dad, brother, Thomas and baby. There is no compromise with her._

_Yes, but—_

A gentle tap on the window disrupted the Gryffindor's thoughts. Neville sat up in bed and listened into the silence for another tap. Once a second set of more aggressive taps started he opened the curtains of his bed and almost leaped out onto the floor at seeing Loki outside the window.

"Neville, what the bloody hell are you doing?" Seamus groaned, burying his head further in his pillow.

Neville muttered an apology and stood frozen on the floor waiting to hear the soft snores of his friend before continuing to the window.

"Ouch! Merlin's beard," Neville hissed, sucking the cut from his hand "I can't just come and open the window right away there are other people here."

Loki bristled his feathers and hooted indignantly at Neville's sour words, but to Neville's relief he didn't bite him a second time. Quietly, Neville made his way over to his bed and closed the curtains allowing Loki to sit perched on his head board while he read Graces' letter.

_Meet me in the barn._

_G.M._

_Detailed as always_ , Neville thought, hurriedly moving about the bed to put on his shoes and find his heavy coat. It was on his second check under the bed that he decided to forgo the comfort of warmth and just wear his night robe, he clearly had once again misplaced the damn thing and wasn't going to waste any more time trying vainly to find it. It was a decision he regretted once he was out of the castle and the cold, damp November air cut through to his chest.

Neville became more and more nervous the nearer he came to the barn. It didn't look like there was any light within and all around the area was dark. Neville hesitated at opening the door. He remembered the last time he had been in there waiting for Graces, pacing the ground and looking out the door every few minutes. He had known something was wrong then, that her not showing up meant something awful and he had been right. While he waited she had been beaten, tortured and died. He stared at the solid wood between him and the inside and wondered what he was going to see.

It wasn't like Graces had had minor injuries. They were all severe and he didn't know enough about medical magic to know if it was all repairable. He hoped it all was. He prayed that this wasn't going to impact her for the rest of her life. Hesitantly he began opening the door, his heart skipping a beat as the soft glow from candles met him and he saw Graces standing awkwardly in the middle of the barn clutching his coat to her.

There was this stillness that settled upon them at the sight of one another. Neville just stood there staring at Graces, unable to believe what he was seeing. She was there whole, healed and as beautiful as ever. She looked completely untouched, like no evil had ever been done to her. It all felt like a dream. He slowly drifted over to her, afraid to even blink should it not be true.

"You're okay," he breathed, reaching out and tenderly touching her face. "I can't believe it. You really are okay."

Graces looked away and nodded her head awkwardly.

"I-I have your coat," Graces murmured, pushing the coat into Neville's hands clearly not wanting to discuss her health."You forgot it again after the whole Granger incident. I have your money too..."

Neville held the coat for a few moments before dropping it unceremoniously to the floor and pulling the petite blonde into his arms and holding her tight. Nothing else in the world mattered to him more than the fact that Graces was in his arms and well. It was an act that Neville had wondered if he would ever experience with her again. Despite how well she had been doing even he could tell her injuries were beyond severe.

Neville quickly got a hold of himself and released Graces who seemed to be tensing more and more the longer he held her. Neville frowned at this and looked down at her. Really looked at her, beyond just searching for any hints of injury. It was clear that the healer was not wrong in saying she needed to rest.

"What are you doing out here? It's freezing and you should be in bed. You need rest."

"I couldn't sleep," Graces admitted quietly, staring down at the hay-covered floor. "I-I needed to talk to you. I have to ask you something."

Neville frowned at Graces confession and waited on baited breath for her to continue. Graces stood there a few moments vibrating all over, before reaching a shaking hand into her coat and taking out a book. Neville stared at the cover a few moments before realizing that she was holding the book he had given to Dr. Harris.

"I read it," Graces whispered. "I read it and-and my father is in it." Neville slowly reached out and took the book from Graces' hands.

"I'm sorry," Neville breathed. "I never meant for you to end up having it. I —"

"Is my father an evil man?" Graces interrupted, stopping Neville from making anymore apologies.

"What?"

"My father," Graces choked. "Is he an evil man?"

Neville stared at the watery quicksilver eyes begging him for answers and felt a greater chill come into him.

"No. He's not."

"Don't lie to me," Graces groaned, backing away from him. "Please, don't lie to—"

"I'm not lying to you. I—"

"YOU'RE LYING TO ME!" Graces accused, her back arching as she cried to the heavens. "You're trying to spare me from knowing that I am the daughter of an evil, heartless man. You're lying to me."

"Graces, I am not lying to you," Neville insisted, grabbing her by her shoulders and trying to get her to hear him. "Listen, I think you are overly tired. You've been through a lot in the past week and you're not thinking clearly. I think if you had some rest and slept through the night you would feel better."

"I can't," Graces laughed bitterly. "I can't sleep. Cause when I close my eyes and drift off I dream that I am back in front of the Dark Lord and my father comes out and beats me."

Neville stood dumbfounded at Graces words.

"Graces," he began "your father would not harm one hair on your head. It's just a dream."

"Is it?" Graces choked. "My father is the same as the men that did this to me. He—"

"Graces, no. He's not."

"Oh yeah?" Graces challenged. "Tell me, Longbottom, did my father enjoy torturing you in the Ministry?" Neville tightened his jaw at the question. "Did he? Because the men that hurt me enjoyed it. They taunted me the whole time I was in agony. They made me fear for what was next and I have a feeling my father is cut from the same cloth. Did he do all that to you? Did he—"

"I'm not discussing this with you," Neville stated firmly, turning away so that she couldn't read his face.

"My aunt told me a lot of it, but you've never said a word." Neville moved away again as Graces tried to maneuver into his view. "At least tell me this," Graces begged. "Just one thing."

"Graces, I don't want to—"

"Did my father haunt your dreams after?" Graces asked desperately, grabbing him by the arm and turning him to her. "Did you wake up in cold sweat thinking about what it was like being under his wand? What he—"

"Graces, you need to stop," Neville stressed, holding her shoulders forward.

"Oh, Gods, he did, didn't he? You had the same terrors I am having now." Neville averted his face away, wishing he could have hid that answer from her. "M-my f-father h-hurts people," Graces sobbed, her knees buckling so that she was on the floor crying into her palms. "He h-hurts people."

"Graces," Neville began, joining her on the ground. "It's-it's not because he's an evil man. It's just he's-he's misguided." Neville cringed as his words created more tears. "No, it's like when you see little kids hurt insects. Like when they smash the shell of a snail, or catch ants on fire, it's not that they are doing it as an evil deed, it's just that, well, they don't see them as having the same emotions and humanity as themselves. Your father doesn't see muggles as human and because of that he doesn't grant them any humanity."

"You're a pureblood," Graces sobbed. "A pureblood. He sees you the same as me."

"I'm a blood traitor. You're father sees people like me as ones that are putting your status in this world in danger. He—"

"You were fifteen," Graces broke in, turning her teary eyes up at him. "Fifteen. Not even the head of your family and he was going to kill you. He tortured you and then was going to kill you. My father murders children. If that's not evil I don't know what is." Neville didn't have an answer to that. He sat there searching his mind for anything he could say that would bring Graces comfort. "How can you be defending him? How can you not call him evil after all that?"

"Because I'm looking at his humanity."

Graces stared up silently at Neville's words. It all hurt, more than she could bare, but in that moment the pain lessened.

"How could I think your father is evil?" Neville asked gently, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "When he made you?"

"Don't tell me that odd sappy nonsense," Graces scoffed angrily. "My God is evil, Longbottom. What does that make me?"

"Your father is human," Neville corrected, scooching closer to her on the ground. "Human. He is flawed like the rest of us. He is not absolute. That means he is not always right. He can be misled, and he is not totally anything... _evil_ included."

"And it's not sappy, it's just the truth. Graces, you are a beautiful, smart, kind, funny girl and condemning your father as evil means that he had nothing good to give to this world. And he clearly has. He raised you. He raised you and I refuse to believe an evil man could raise a child like you."

"He kills children," Graces held onto. "That's not just being misled. You're naive if you don't fine him an evil man. He was going to kill you. He—"

"Would you have been sad if he succeeded in killing me?" Neville cut in.

"I think it has already been established I don't want you dead," Graces sniffed.

"No, not now. Then. Would you have been sad if I was killed?" Graces frowned and looked down ashamed. She would not have been. "It's okay. I knew you wouldn't have been."

"I didn't know you then," Graces hiccuped. "I just saw you as—"

"What about Hermione?" Neville countered, still holding her kindly. "You said just a few weeks ago you couldn't wait to weed her out."

"I did," Graces nodded, holding her breath to keep her own composure for this line of questioning.

"Do you still feel that way?"

Graces frowned at the question. Did she believe that Hermione's life was as valuable as Neville's? As her own? As Dr. Harris'... She didn't know anymore. She was at a loss to what she believed. Her whole life she had listened to her father's opinions and ideals and look where that had brought them. Her father had said no muggles could so easily accept them, that only when they were forced to by blood bondage were they able to deal with the realities of their world, but Dr. Harris had no bondage to her. He wanted to help because he saw hurting children as wrong. An ideal that her father had pretended to have. If her father was wrong about muggles did that include Hermione?

"I don't know how I feel," Graces whispered.

"And that's okay," Neville promised, kissing the top of her head. "You don't have to know right this second what you believe. In fact I would worry if you could so easily change your belief system. But my point is if your father had succeeded back then you would not have been upset. You may have even been happy that we were all dead. It doesn't make you evil, Graces. Just like it doesn't make your father evil."

"Your father and you were raised with a set of beliefs," Neville continued. "A set of beliefs that told you that people like Dr. Harris and Hermione were not worth living. A belief structure that made people like me an enemy, a threat. You and your father were both raised with no other belief structure. It isn't surprising that you have such little respect for the lives of others. You both are just...misled. And because of this your father has done terrible things, but he did them all thinking it was right. Thinking he was making a better future for you. Even you thought that."

"I wish I could go back to before," Graces sobbed, placing her head in her knees. "I want to go back to before."

"No you don't," Neville sighed. "Now you know more. Your vision has expanded. Graces, this is a good thing. It's like your whole life you've only been seeing things with one eye and now you have two."

Graces snorted and before she could stop herself began cackling hysterically and crying all at once. _Now you have two._ She knew Neville didn't know and that she must appear incredibly insane at the moment, but it was all just too poetic.

"Now I have two," she repeated disdainfully. "Now I can see. Right..."

"Graces?"

"You know, if the Gods aren't dead they are sadistic," Graces bemoaned, turning to Neville and burying her face in his shirt to cry.

"Graces? Graces?"

Graces ignored Neville's pleas for her to look up at him. Instead she clung tighter to him, her fingers clutching his shift so tight that if he tried to push her away it would tear it to shreds. She was breaking and she knew it. She was a frozen lake that was bearing too much weight and she was cracking. She wondered if she had always been this weak, if she just never knew it because she had up until recently led a pampered life where she didn't need to worry about a thing.

She missed that life. That life where her father was right, they were elite and the only thing she had to worry about was school and Quidditch practice. Now her best years were behind her. She was sixteen and her good years were gone. She didn't even have the youthful body of her age. Everything about her life right now was hell. Everything. Except the fact that Neville was holding her.

Graces closed her eyes tighter at the thought and began practically hyperventilating as Neville scooped her up on his lap and began rocking her like she was a child and whispering nonsensical words of comfort. He felt so good. So right. Neville was the only person outside of family that was able to give her comfort. He was also the only person that she felt like she could talk to these days.

"Take a breath, Graces," Neville whispered, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her neck. "Nothing is happening. Everything is fine. I have you. Just calm down." Graces slowly took some deep, shaking breaths and tried to choke down her sobs. "The gods are sadistic, huh?" Neville murmured, nuzzling her hair with his nose. "I believe you would have hexed me for such a comment in October."

"I was naïve in October," Graces hiccuped.

Neville hummed a reply, but didn't dig further. A calmness began to settle within her, not calm in that she felt clarity, just calm in that she didn't feel like she was being bent so much she would snap.

_Maybe this isn't calm. Maybe it's exhaustion._

"I think you need to sleep," Neville declared as though he were reading her thoughts. "You're exhausted, I can tell. You just need a good night's rest, Graces. You shouldn't be thinking about anything like this until you are better."

"I can't sleep," Graces murmured hollowly.

"What if you slept with Draco tonight?" Neville suggested. "You sleep better with him don't you?"

"He's not in his room," Graces choked, her voice beginning to crack again. "He's busy, busy trying to save the damned."

"Shhh," Neville hushed, "No more of that, you're going to get yourself all worked up again. How about we get you some dreamless sleep?"

"I don't want it," Graces refused. "I don't want anymore damn potions."

"Graces, you're not leaving me with many options here to help you."

"I don't want help."

In the back of her mind the blonde knew she was being difficult. She was just holding onto the bad and pouting over the unfairness of it all, but she wasn't ready to put this all to rest. She wasn't ready to rest herself. She just wanted everything solved in one night. She knew she was demanding the impossible, but her heart ached for it.

"Do you want to come sleep with me tonight?" Neville offered kindly. Graces scowled at the suggestion and looked up at Neville, who didn't appear to find anything odd or wrong with his suggestion. "You can sleep with me in my bed. We can do a Disillusionment charm like we did for me when I went to the festival and we'll just lock my curtains."

"Are you mad?" Graces hissed. "Can you imagine what would happen if we were caught, if someone tried to wake you up for breakfast or—"

"No one is going to try to wake me up with my curtains closed," Neville chuckled. "It's common code in a boys dorm that if the curtains are closed, do not disturb."

Graces wrinkled her nose at the Neville's last statement, but actually gave the idea some consideration.

"Come on," Neville coaxed, moving his arms and bear-hugging her middle. "It will be nice. The tower is much warmer than the dungeons, more homey too." Graces closed her eyes as Neville kissed the back of her neck sweetly. "You need to sleep, Graces."

"I can't sleep with you, though," Graces breathed. "I can't... I still need some space and—"

"We're not going to _sleep_ with one another," Neville promised. "Just sleep together."

"I would rather the first over the last," Graces muttered under her breath.

"Yeah, well, I don't think either of us are in the mood for that," Neville deadpanned. Graces almost made a comment about how teenage boys were always in the mood, but stopped herself. It didn't seem like it would be funny right then. If anything it made it all that much sadder. "Just come to the tower with me. Let me take care of you," Neville whispered quietly.

"I can't," Graces insisted, knowing that she was leaning towards a life with Graham, but not ready to tell Neville. "I'm so sorry. I-I just can't."

Graces knew that she would have to tell Neville eventually, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Especially now when he was holding her in his arms. She just wanted to hold on too. Graham was the smart decision, the safe decision. She was ensuring her own safety and taking a heavy burden off her brother's shoulders. She may not love Graham now, but with time she was sure it would come. And she had convinced herself that with the time away from Neville her feelings would lessen. Graham had mentioned her not returning for 7th year and now she felt that would be best. The temptation would be out of sight and with time out of mind.

"Oh, Graces, don't cry," Neville begged. "It's fine. I'll figure something else out. Please, stop crying."

"I want to. I really want to," Graces sputtered, "But I just can't, it wouldn't be right."

"Because of Montague?" Graces twisted her face in despair, but eventually nodded. "Have you... have you made a decision about that?"

Graces raised her chin to nod, but stopped and, in a cowardly move, just shrugged and said she was still thinking.

"Okay," Neville contended.

"I-I'm sorry, I—"

"Nothing to be sorry about," Neville promised, offering her a small smile that made her feel even worse. "How about you sleep here? We can make a makeshift bed for you and another for me."

Graces worried her lip at Neville's suggestion. She wanted to stay with him. She wanted to stay with him more than anything else in the world.

"No, I should go to my room," Graces declared, nodding affirmatively to herself, trying vainly to make herself believe she was doing what needed to be done. She moved to get up, but Neville held her tighter.

"Please stay with me." Graces held her breath at Neville's words. He sounded so comfortless. It wasn't a request for her benefit and she knew it. He was asking her to stay for him. She looked back at him wistfully watching her and in that moment she couldn't say no. She nodded her head and without thought placed her own hand on his cheek and kissed him softly.

In the corners of her mind she knew this was the very reason why she needed space from Neville. One kiss always morphed into another and soon she was once again wondering if she was making the right choice, because the right choice at the moment felt like Neville.

"Well, I think on that note I should put you to bed," Neville grinned, standing up and keeping her still cradled in his arms.

"You don't need to carry me," Graces scoffed, a content smile playing on her lips as Neville went over to a stall full of hay.

"Need and want are two very different things." Graces smiled at Neville's light heartedness and leaned her head on his shoulder as she felt them shifting to their own little world. "Remember this stall?" Neville asked, turning and pushing the door open with his back.

"Yes," Graces blushed, hiding closer in the crook of Neville's neck.

"I quite enjoyed that night. You wooed me with your talk of tics and inflamed lungs."

"It really is something to worry about!" Graces laughed. "It's the bacterial fermentation, it—"

"Oh, Graces, I must warn you if you insist on talking dirty to me I will be forced to throw you down on this hay—bacterial fermentation and all—and make love to you."

"You're awful," Graces cried, giving Neville a playful smack in the chest as he put her down so he could set up the beds. Neville just grinned and threw a blanket over the hay.

"I'm going to get my coat, it's really warm, you can use it as a blanket."

"What will you use?" Graces frowned.

"I have my night robe on," Neville shrugged. "I told you my gran is the master of warming charms."

"I have my coat with me though," Graces pointed out.

"I doubt you've ever slept without a pillow your whole life," Neville chuckled. "There's your pillow."

Graces smiled quietly to herself as Neville went to retrieve his coat from the middle of the barn. Nothing was better, but she felt better. She sat on the blanket draped over the hay and wondered if she could give all this up. Her and Neville's little world.

"I leave for a few seconds and I come back to more tears?" Neville asked, putting the coat over her and leaning next to her as she laid down. "You must have really missed me."

"I did," Graces laughed wiping away her tears.

"You're such a sap." Neville winked, adjusting his coat over her so she was fully covered.

"Where are you sleeping?" Graces asked, trying to distract herself.

"I will be sleeping on that side," Neville nodded. "Gives us a good bit of distance and it's a separate pile of hay."

Graces nodded and worried her lip to keep herself from telling Neville to forget it and just sleep with her.

"Is Montague nice?"

"What?" Graces asked, knowing what Neville asked and yet not fully able to comprehend.

"Is-is he a nice bloke?" Neville repeated, staring down at her imploringly.

"Yes." Graces couldn't remove her eyes from Neville's despite how desperately she wanted to look away from him. He didn't seem sad or bitter, just... concerned. There was no hidden agenda in his question, nothing aimed at manipulating her into favoring a choice that would allow her to be with him. He sincerely wanted to know and she could see that. "He's a bit stoic and at times he's unapproachable, but if you know him he's nice."

"Do you know him well?"

Graces hesitated in answering before shrugging non-committally.

"Graham is a very private person... and so am I... It makes getting to know one another a bit difficult. But he's nice, I know that he doesn't look it, but he is..."

"Good," Neville smiled "You deserve nice."

Graces opened her mouth to say something, anything. Tell Neville how sorry she was, that if she could she would choose him, that he was nicer, something, but before any traitorous word could leave her Neville leaned in and pressed his warm lips to hers.

"The last time we were here you said 'take me in the now, feel me in the present and only miss me in the end'. I know the end may be right around the corner, but it's not now," Neville said gently. "Get some sleep."

"Wait," Graces called, as Neville moved to leave her side. "I... will you lay down with me for a while?" she asked hesitantly.

Her request clearly took Neville by surprise, but after a second he smiled and moved to lay down beside her. No words were spoken by either of them there. Neville held Graces close and she closed her eyes and breathed him in as she her heart continued to flutter in her chest. Part of her prayed that Neville would fall asleep as well and another part of her prayed he wouldn't and she would wake up and he would be on the other side. But she refused to remind him, determined to allow fate to decide. And with that decision and Neville's arms around her she fell into dreamless sleep.


	51. Chapter 51

Neville groaned as he felt something touch his nose and irritatedly waved his hand around his face thinking a fly was pestering him. He had barely slept. He had laid with Graces comfortably for a long time last night before sneaking out of her little bed to his own. He understood that Graces set up boundaries for a reason and while he was hopelessly in love with her he respected that she wanted to protect her own heart. And so he had laid in his makeshift bed for a while and then when he couldn't sleep being so far away from her moved to sleep in the chair beside her.

It hadn't been a decision that provided him with the best sleep. He had been a bit cold and uncomfortable causing him to wake quite often in the middle of the night, but he was able to sleep more there then he would have far away from her. Again he felt something brushing against his nose and with a frustrated grunt he pried his eyes open.

"Oh, so you're my fly," Neville yawned, sitting up in the chair and offering a sleepy smile. Graces frowned at his words, but after a moment realized what Neville meant and just nodded. "Did you sleep well?"

"Better than you," Graces shrugged, eyeing Neville's set up in the chair. "That couldn't have been comfortable."

"You don't worry about me," Neville smiled, reaching his hands up and stretching. "I slept just fine."

"You look cold," Graces argued, clearly not happy. "You're nose is cold," she murmured more to herself than to Neville. Neville watched as she looked sadly to her side, his jacket wrapped up around her.

"Come here," he ordered gently, moving the extra blanket he found in the barn off him and opening his arms to her. Graces eyed him for a moment before hesitantly moving to be on his lap. Neville wrapped his arms around her and contently sighed at how warm she was, before asking what was wrong.

"Nothing," Graces shrugged, resting her head in the crook of his neck. "I just wish you would have kept yourself warm."

"I'm warm enough," Neville lied.

"You're going to get a cold," Graces pouted, clearly not about to let Neville get away with this.

"Maybe," Neville hummed. "If I do though I know this really pretty witch who plans on being a healer. I'm willing to bet if I get a little sick she'll make me a pepper up potion and kiss me better." Neville knew Graces was trying to be cross with him, but he could feel her cheeks move against his neck and knew she was smiling.

"I don't think she'll kiss you better."

"Oh, I think she will. She likes to pretend that she won't kiss me, but she will," Neville affirmed grinning ear to ear. "I'll probably get more than just a kiss if I play my cards right."

Neville laughed as Graces made an offended gasp and hit his chest, but he made no apology.

"You're so bad," Graces scoffed, burying herself more into him closing her eyes sleepily.

"We have to get going soon," Neville informed, kissing her head. "People should be waking up in the next hour. It wouldn't do for us to be missing from our beds and we have class."

Graces nodded, but made no movement to get up. Neville found Graces' behavior to be a bit curious, but just allowed her to continue on where she was. He quite enjoyed her snuggled up on his lap early in the morning and was not about to protest.

"I made a decision," she whispered, still staying under his chin. Neville felt like ice had flooded into his veins and unconsciously gripped the blonde tighter to himself.

"Oh?" he pressed, his voice already pushing against the lump growing in his throat.

"I'm not going to marry Graham."

"I-I just don't feel ready," Graces whispered.

Neville sat there in silence at Graces' words. He wanted to look at her, search her face for sincerity, but the blonde buried herself more deeply in the crook of his neck. It didn't make sense for her to choose not to marry Montague. Montague was the smart choice and Graces had said just the other week after Hermione left them in the prefect's bathroom that she would marry a man if she didn't love him. 'I love my family. I will do what is expected of me.'

Slowly Neville sat up and cupped Graces' face so that she was staring up at him.

"You don't have to turn him down for me," Neville stated evenly. "You know that right? I would much rather you be safe, Graces."

"Trying to get rid of me Longbottom?" Graces asked icily.

"Graces," Neville moved the blonde away from him and tilted her chin up so she was forced to meet his eyes. "I do not want you to marry Montague. I am not trying to get rid of you. I just... I just don't want your safety being compromised for me." _Because I'm not worth it._ Neville ran his thumb under her eye and gave her a sorry half smile. "I want you to be safe, Graces. I don't want you to hurt. Me telling you that I don't want to be factored into this decision has nothing to do with my feelings for you, other than I want you safe. If being with Montague can secure your safety I think that's the best decision for you."

"Well, I am not factoring you in my decision," Graces shot angrily. "And it's my decision to make and not yours. I'm not marrying Montague because I am too young and I don't want to drop out of school, which is something he would want. At the moment I am confident in my brother's abilities to carry out his task and I do not wish to anchor myself to Montague when there's a chance it is not necessary."

Neville groaned as Graces stood up angrily and tossed his coat on the floor as she began grabbing her own shoes and coat angrily.

"Graces, please don't do this," Neville begged, running his hands over his face and thinking it was way too early for such nonsense.

"I'm not doing anything," Graces grumbled. "I'll see you in class."

"Graces, stop," Neville ordered, taking her by her shoulders and not allowing her to pass. "I know you're hurt and—"

"I am not hurt," Graces barked, trying to sidestep away.

"Yes you are," Neville sighed. "You think I don't care enough to want you all to myself. And that's not the case at all."

"Let me go, Longbottom."

"No," Neville protested. "I want you to actually think about this. What have I done that is so wrong? I'm trying to be a good man here. I'm trying to let you go so you'll be safe."

"Graces, I don't want you to go. I want you here with me, but I can't guarantee your safety like Montague. I wish I could. I wish you could be just as safe in my arms as you would be with him, but you aren't. Do you have any idea how much that kills me?" Neville asked, staring down at her angrily.. "I can't do a damn thing for you. Do you have any idea how pathetic I feel?"

"You're upset because you don't think I want you in your life. I want you in my life more than you want me. I guarantee that. I'm just not willing to sacrifice your safety for my happiness." And with that final sentiment Neville released Graces from his hold. He was beyond frustrated with her at the moment and turned and kicked the wall of the barn to let out a bit of steam. He hated all the complications. Even when he was trying his best to not make things complicated it all just ended up being a mess.

Neville stilled as he felt Graces' hesitant arms wrap around his middle.

"I'm sorry," Graces whispered, holding him tighter despite the way he tensed. "Please don't be mad."

"How can you act like I want to just get rid of you?" he seethed. "I've been the one begging you for affection. Wanting you to stay longer, asking you to give more. Why is it that you have to act like I'm the bad guy because I want to protect you? Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to think of you with Montague?"

"I'm sorry," Graces repeated lamely. "I-I just was expecting a different reaction...I didn't expect for you to tell me to reconsider..."

"You do need to reconsider," Neville stressed bitterly. "You are not safe. I don't think you thought this through correctly."

"I'm safe," Graces reassured. "Really I am. At least for now."

"I have a hard time believing that," Neville deadpanned, referring to the last few days.

"I am," Graces promised. "No more Death Eaters are going to be coming here. Snape can't just allow for people to be coming and going, it's suspicious. The only time I need to be frightened is when the year ends... if Draco hasn't completed his task," she whispered quietly.

"And what will you do then?" Neville asked, still refusing to turn around and look at the blonde.

"Don't worry about that," Graces murmured, nuzzling her chin into Neville's shoulder blade.

Neville turned around and looked down at the girl in front of him sadly. She had been through so much there was no way she wasn't broken. Something was broken in her. He saw it last night and looking at her silver eyes he saw it now. He believed it could be repaired. He knew that it could be, but if something else happened. Something more or similar to what was already done he wondered if they could put her back together again.

"Be honest with me," he began lowly. "Did I not factor into your decision?"

Graces looked down and worried her lip for a brief moment before staring back up at him.

"I want more time," she admitted. "I—you're the one person I can talk to. I need you. I would lose my mind without you." Neville kept still as Graces took his hand in her own. "I know you want me safe. I believe you, but right now I don't need physical protection. I need you."

"I can still be here for you," Neville pleaded. "Graces, I don't need to be having sexual relations with you to be there for you we can just—"

"Longbottom, first of all I think we both know we are not good at not sleeping with one another," Graces deadpanned. "Second of all I do not want to drop out of school. There is still a chance Draco is going to fulfill his task and I don't want to rush into a marriage because I can't wait a few months."

"Graces, think about what can happen in that time," Neville pleaded. "What if—"

"I have faith in my brother," Graces stated. "I understand you are worried about me, but I am not going to marry Graham."

Neville leaned against the barn wall and tried to not think of the tightening sensation that was growing in his chest. He felt like the air in the room was diminishing and he just wanted to scream. Graces, as always, was stubborn as ever in her decision, and while one part of him said to rejoice that he was going to have her a little longer another kept placing images of her broken in her bed.

"What if you get hurt and there is no Dr. Harris to put you back together again?" he rasped over the tightness. "What if they break you?"

Graces frowned thoughtfully over the question. Neville could practically see the wheels in her head turning on the question. She knew he didn't just mean breaking her physically, that he was talking about her mental state just as much as her body. A while ago Graces would have just dismissed his worry, and now he could see her seriously considering it.

"Do you think I'm broken now?" she asked quietly. Neville looked down at his shoes for a moment, before shrugging noncommittally. "I see," Graces whispered. "Because of last night?"

"Because of lots of nights," Neville murmured still not meeting her eyes. "You've been through a lot. It's normal that you can't bear all that weight."

"I'm not weak," Graces maintained tightly."I just—"

"I do not think you are weak," Neville interrupted. "I think you are the strongest person I've ever met, but that doesn't mean that you can't be broken. I'm worried because I think that the Dark Lord is trying to do that. I think he's trying to break all of you, and I have a feeling you, because of what you did for Thomas and your last name, will be his ultimate target."

Graces nodded her head in sad agreement at his words and quickly wiped her eyes.

"I know I've put myself in his sights," Graces acknowledged, a proud determination taking hold of her. "I know I have. I-I knew the moment I went in front of him to help Thomas that I put myself in this twisted game of chess, but that does not mean I want to succumb to him. I may have my moments of weakness, but a rigid board is more likely to break than a flexible one. I'm bending, but I am not breaking, Longbottom. I feel at times like I am, but I'm not. I'm adapting."

"Everyone has a breaking point," Neville argued. "Montague is a way for you not to ever have to reach that point. Graces, think about this. Really think about this."

"I have," Graces stomped, irritation now coming out over her pain. "I know what my breaking point is, Longbottom. Now you can either respect my decision not to pawn myself off like a prized bitch just to save my life or you can shove off. Either way I am not marrying Montague! The Dark Lord doesn't scare me!" Graces roared defiantly. "Death is nothing compared to living. Death is easy," Graces continued, moving closer to Neville. "I know, because I've died. It doesn't hurt, it isn't even scary, you just slip into the other world. I can't even remember anything beyond that. I know my breaking point and it resides with my brother! So long as Draco is alive I cannot be broken and I will not, WILL NOT cower behind a marriage to keep myself safe."

"You think you Gryffindors are the only ones that can be brave?" Graces cast out. "Watch me!"

And with that the blonde began to stomp out of the room, Neville hurriedly rushed to stop her and barely closed the barn door before she was able to sneak her way out.

"I'm not saying you're not brave," Neville pleaded. "I swear I'm not I—"

"You're asking me to retreat," Graces snapped. "I will not live my life in fear. I will not make choices based on fear. I am going to live before I die!"

"I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE!" Neville screamed.

"THEN WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME TO MAKE A CHOICE THAT IS GOING TO KILL ME!"

There was a pregnant silence at Graces words. Neville bit the inside of his cheek as Graces began sobbing into her hand.

"Marrying Graham now, accepting that kind of defeat is going to kill me," Graces whimpered. "Draco dying is going to kill me. Marrying who I am expected to was an okay plan so long as Draco was around. I may not have had love in my marriage, but I would have love. I just can't marry Graham. I can't."

"So what are you saying exactly?" Neville frowned, feeling the lump in his throat double in size. "Are you telling me that if Draco doesn't live through this, if he doesn't accomplish this task that you want to die with him?"

Graces faltered for a moment and Neville knew that she hadn't even realized until then what she was saying, but now she realized... He could read it on her face. Slowly the anger and frustration diminished and something more hopeless came and gripped his insides. The blonde moved into his chest and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"Please, drop this," she whispered, nuzzling her nose into him. "Be here for me. Don't tell me what decision to make, just be here for me. I think you know better than anyone that there are worse things than death. Accept what I am choosing for myself."

"I can't accept that, Graces," Neville choked, unable to stop himself from crying. "You're choosing to die, how am I supposed to just accept that?"

"I am not choosing to die," Graces sighed. "I believe Draco will succeed. I am choosing to dismiss the back up plan."

"You said Montague was nice, you said you two would be a good match, you said-"

"I was scared! I was terrified, now I'm—"

"You should still be scared, Graces!"

Graces made some gesture of frustration with her hands and gave out an exasperated cry which resulted in the two students just standing in silence. Neville knew he was right on everything. That he was being the voice of reason and found himself torn between hating himself for pushing her away and content that she had no argument.

"I am very scared," Graces murmured after a while. "But not of the things you think I should be scared for. Do not place your fears and ideals on me," she continued staring up at him. "I know what I can bear and I know what I can't. So I am going to ask you for the last time, Longbottom. Respect my wishes. I understand a lot more than you do about my situation and I am making a choice based off all the things I know."

"How does Draco feel about your decision?" Neville asked, clearly reaching for a reason to disagree.

"He doesn't know yet." Neville glared at her and was about to open his mouth and scold her, but Graces hurriedly continued. "I'm going to tell him, just after I speak with Graham."

"Maybe you should tell him before."

Graces was once again beginning to flood with a feeling of rejection. Neville said he wanted to be with her all his actions until this point had said he wanted to be with her and now all he was doing was pushing her away.

"Draco's going to respect my decision," Graces declared sourly.

"Is he, now? Good for Draco."

"You're being an asshole."

"And you're being naïve."

"Well, you're being a pompous, patriarchal, chauvinist ass!"

"A what?" Neville asked in surprise.

"You heard me," Graces snarled. "Telling me I have to get married, that I need to rely on a man to save me. Heaven forbid I refuse a marriage of convenience. A few months ago you found that distasteful, and now you're practically pushing me into the arms of someone despite the fact I don't want to. Well, go ahead continue on punishing me for having a mind of my own, for making a choice based on what I want."

Neville's cheeks burned red for a moment and Graces felt extremely smug as when he looked at her uncomfortably before diverting his eyes away.

"You're right," Neville murmured quietly.

"I know I am."

"I just—" Neville paused and seemed to be trying to gather himself. "I don't want anything like this to ever happen to you again. I want you to be safe."

"Draco will keep me safe." Neville gave Graces a look that made her want to scream out her frustrations. "What happened to me was my own fault," she informed slowly. "I was safe and then I went behind Draco's back and accompanied Thomas to his meeting. If I had listened to my brother then nothing like that would have happened to me. And I don't appreciate you blaming my brother for this," Graces added. "This is all my fault. Not his. Draco has done nothing but deal with situations he has been handed."

Neville shook his head, but didn't argue. Instead, he sat down on a lonely stool and made some noise of exasperation.

"I don't know what to do right now. I have no idea how to feel about any of this."

"Be happy." Neville scoffed and looked up at her like she was deliberately toying with him. "I'm serious," Graces stressed. "There is nothing you can do about my decision, so be happy with the time we just gained. Be here for me the way I am asking you to be." Graces bent down in front of him and laid her head on his knee, making it impossible for the sandy haired boy to continue looking away. "I still want you. Don't you still want me?"

"We've been through this. I do, you know I do, but—"

Neville was at once silenced by Graces' warm lips over taking his. He thought about protesting, but that thought diminished slightly when the blonde climbed into his lap and continued on.

"You're being manipulative," Neville murmured, groaning as Graces trailed down to his neck.

"How is this manipulative?" Graces asked, kissing him heatedly on the mouth. "My mind's made up. Decisions have been made. Now I am just basking in one of the benefits of it."

"We were discussing—"

"You were discussing," Graces corrected. "It's done, Longbottom. I'm not doing it, I have my reasons and you know that you should respect them."

"I'm terrified for you," Neville stressed, cupping her face in the palm of his hand. "Terrified."

Graces stared at him for a few moments, before biting her lip thoughtfully.

"I'm going to make you a deal," she said, looking at Neville seriously. "The moment—the very second—I am in danger I am going to tell you."

"You will?" Neville asked skeptically.

"I will," Graces promised, taking his hand in her's. "I'll tell you. Even if I have to owl you, I'll tell you."

"You don't need to be scared for me," Graces reassured, her silver eyes pleading with him to believe her. "Because I am going to tell you the moment you should be."

"The very moment?"

"The very moment," Graces vowed, kissing him sweetly.

"Okay," Neville relented, resting his forehead on her's. "I swear to the Gods Graces if you don't, I'll—"

"Hey, I said I will," Graces interjected, standing up and picking Neville's discarded coat up. "Now, we should go." Neville nodded and stood up from the stool, stopping to pick up an old Drooble's wrapper that had fallen out of his coat.

Graces frowned at the wrapper. She remembered seeing Drooble's wrappers in Neville's bag when she was getting the clothes to cover herself while pruning the plant. They were in that box with the broken wand and funny coin. Come to think of it she had seen another wrapper once after they had "fooled around". It had fallen out of his pants, but the odd thing was she had never once seen Neville chew gum. Ever.

"I'll walk you to the dungeons," Neville yawned, putting his coat on and massaging his neck. "I don't want you walking alone."

Graces nodded and followed Neville out of the barn, allowing him to loop his arm around her waist once she disillusioned them both. With every step she took leaning on Neville's side strolling around the castle she solidified her decision in her head. As wrong as it was, she needed him. He gave her a calm tranquility that she knew no one else could. She knew she was playing with fire, that she was bound to get burned, but at the same time isn't that what she and Neville did? They burned, passionately and desperately, they burned for one another.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Graces was the first to arrive inside the Great Hall for breakfast. She had snuck up into her dorm and left before anyone was able to even fully wake up. Thank the gods, no one would have noticed her absence. Everyone could just assume she woke up early and left. She sat at the Slytherin table quietly waiting for food to appear. She imagined breakfast should be appearing in about five minutes, but she wasn't at all interested in eating.

"Miss Malfoy." Graces looked up to see Professor McGonagall staring down at her, clearly surprised at seeing her after a week. "How are you?"

"Well."

The professor stared at her a few moments, her usually severe face taking on a more empathetic expression, before looking around the hall and moving to take the seat across from her. Graces frowned and found herself inching back in her own seat, uncomfortable with what the woman in front of her was doing, but after a few moments lifted her chin and waited.

"I don't know how close you are with your head of house," the woman began gently. "I realize Professor Snape isn't the most comforting of sorts and—"

"He's my godfather," Graces said shortly, wanting this conversation to end before it began.

"I think we both know he isn't very suited for the title."

Graces clenched her jaw, but did not make any argument.

"That being said," McGonagall continued. "I want you to know my door is always open. I realize that this tragedy must be very hard on you, not to mention your father's incarceration as well. I know I am not your head of house, but I am your teacher and if—"

"Thank you," Graces interrupted, wanting the woman in front of her to leave. "But I'm fine."

The older woman nodded and sat there for a few more moments clearly wanting to discuss matters more, but not holding her breath that Graces would want to open up.

"Well, you know where my office is," she dismissed, standing up to leave. "I hope I will be seeing you there, to at least catch you up on the material you missed."

"That's not necessary," Graces dismissed, taking out her satchel and rummaging through it. "Here are the papers that were due in my absence and I am well prepared for the practical test today."

"Oh, you didn't have to do this while you were away. I would have understood if—"

"Granger is not the only one who studies ahead," Graces pointed out, grabbing a piece of toast idly as it appeared in front of her. "I finished that paper long before what happened; I've just been waiting to turn it in."

The professor stared at the blonde in front of her. Graces was a bright witch, she had never doubted that. She was coldly quiet in class and didn't seem to get as excited about subjects as Hermione did, but she had not missed the certain liveliness that would come to the girl's eyes. The older woman began to wonder if maybe she had dismissed Graces' brightness. Hermione was almost always praised by her teachers, Graces, however...

"I don't need your validation," Graces scoffed looking up from the jam she was spreading. "I'll need a letter of recommendation next year, but that's it. Tea?" Graces asked, holding up the pot.

"No, thank you," Professor McGonagall declined, finally standing to leave. "I shall see you in class, Miss Malfoy."

" _Class_ ," Graces repeated, in a way that told the older woman she should never expect to see the blonde in her office.

Graces gave a small relieved breath as the older Gryffindor took her seat at the front of the hall. Students had now started to trickle in, taking their usual seats at their usual tables. It all seemed like a dream to Graces, fake even.

"Y-You ok-kay?"

"Of course," Graces jumped, blushing from her surprise. She had no idea how long Thomas had been sitting there, or when he came in. She still couldn't see him. He was sitting on her bad side... Graces reached over and hurriedly gulped her pumpkin juice, praying to drown the feeling that had welled up in her throat. Her bad side. That's what she had began calling the side of her that was blind. Her bad side. Her bad side used to be the side of her face she didn't favor in photographs and now it was actually used in a real way. "Are you catching up with your classes?"

"I'm d-dismissed f-from th-the w-w-work I m-missed."

"Well, that won't do," Graces sighed. "Finish the work, Thomas. It shows a certain amount of strength. You don't want to look weak."

"I-it's a l-lot to m-make up."

"Then you shall look stronger for it."

"I h-have O-octavian," Thomas groaned. "I d-don't h-have th-the w-weekend to c-catch u-up."

"Learn time management," Graces instructed, taking another drink. "Octavian will now always be around. One day you will have a job and need to catch up on work and make time for him. Think of this as a learning experience for later."

Thomas scowled, but nodded his head in agreement. Graces looked over a few times and saw him playing with his food, clearly trying to work out his schedule in his head.

"I'll take him for the weekend," Graces caved, already feeling bad for being so hard on him. "Octavian will stay at the castle this weekend and I will watch him when you're catching up on work."

"Y-yeah?"

"Yeah," Graces smiled. "There's no rule about infants being here and it's the weekend. It's not like we are taking him to class."

"Th-thanks," Thomas grinned, giving her leg an affectionate squeeze under the table.

"Yep, now back to being silent," Graces winked.

"I p-put up a s-silencing ch-charm."

"Did you now?" Graces asked slightly surprised.

Thomas shrugged and murmured about how he's gotten so good with them he's doing it a lot more often so he can speak more in public.

"People are going to think you're up to something," Graces teased, taking a sip of tea.

"I'm a S-slytherin, th-they already d-do."

"Well, since you have the charm up, I've been meaning to ask. What's going on with you and Wendalyn?"

Thomas faltered for a moment a look of discomfort coming to his face before he went cold.

"Nothing. We broke up."

"Must have been pretty fast considering her whole family were at the funeral and she never once came up to you. Not even when the rest of them did." Graces peeked over and saw the dark haired boy tighten his grip on his fork, but he didn't say anything. "You going to tell me what she said?"

"Sh-she didn't say anyth-thing," Thomas murmured tightly.

"Nothing?" Graces asked, the blood inside her veins going up a few degrees.

"J-just l-leave it."

"I absolutely will not leave it, Thomas," Graces snapped. "I expected her to break it off with you. She's an idiot child and is in no way ready to take on the responsibilities that come with dating you now. I didn't really want her around Octavian either, to be honest, but she didn't even say anything to you? She's just avoiding you? After everything that has happened to you she—"

"It's n-not l-like I'm exactly s-seeking her out," Thomas defended, keeping his eyes glued to the table.

"Why would you when she didn't even bring her condolences to you at the funeral."

"I d-don't w-want to t-talk about th-this," Thomas whispered quietly.

Graces bristled at the request, but decided to let it drop. She really didn't want Thomas getting emotional at the table and now more students were arriving, including the girl of the hour. Graces watched unflinching as she huddled close to her group of friends, even when the other girl noticed her hostile stares she didn't look away.

"S-stop it," Thomas pleaded.

"Stop what?"

"Y-you know wh-what."

"Oh, Thomas, I'm just being kind. At least now the poor girl knows I'm out to get her. It's like giving someone a warning before you hex them."

Thomas rolled his eyes and muttered something about Malfoys under his breath before finishing his tea.

"Glad you're back, Gray," Blaise greeted seriously, kissing her cheek and taking a seat beside her.

"Thanks," Graces blushed, looking over at the Gryffindor table and being incredibly thankful that Neville was not there. "Where's Draco?"

Blaise paused for a moment before murmuring that he was busy.

"Did you see him this morning?"

"No."

"He has to eat. Where—"

"Graces," Crabbe broke in. "He's busy. Don't expect to be seeing him."

The blonde frowned at Crabbe's statement and looked over to Blaise questioningly.

"I don't know anything," Blaise stated. "Crabbe doesn't know anything and you best just maintain that you don't know anything. All we know is he is working and after recent incidents will not be doing anything other than."

"He has to go to class," Graces argued.

"That's about it though."

"He has to eat and he—"

"If you're worried grab him a muffin for later."

"Did he even come to bed last night?" Graces asked.

There was a pregnant silence from the 6th year boys that were around her. Graces looked over at Crabbe hoping he would offer her some insight, but the large boy just looked down uncomfortably.

"Right," Graces breathed, her mind beginning to make the connections. "I better go. I want to get to class early."

"I'll walk you," Blaise offered, discarding his napkin and standing.

"No, I umm—"

"Can it, Malfoy, I'm walking with you," Blaise insisted, grabbing a few pieces of toast and coming to her side. "Come on."

Unable to really argue, Graces nodded and walked out of the Great Hall with Blaise by her side. The dark skinned boy was silent at first, taking bites out of his toast and smiling at other Slytherin's entering and a few pretty girls here and there. Graces remained just as silent, though hers wasn't a casual easy silence like Blaise's there was a distinct heaviness to it that was impossible to ignore.

"Your brother is a wreck, you know," Blaise said casually as they left the interior of the castle and started to the greenhouse. "He blames himself for everything, even though you were the one that went behind his back and sought out the Dark Lord with Thomas. In my opinion you brought this all on yourself, not that I don't think what you did was necessary or damn admirable," Blaise added quickly. "You saved Thomas' life, even those calling you an idiot have a great amount of respect for you after what you did: saving a child and a whole pureblood line, taking a punishment like that in stride. You're a tough one, Gray. No one can deny that now. Especially since you survived."

"I expect your mother is going to be hearing about this soon enough, so many of us have written to our own parents about it, not to mention you know this community does enjoy it's gossip. I'm willing to bet some of the Death Eaters that saw it all are discussing it. It's not like the Dark Lord doesn't want the publicity of what he did to you, trying to scaremonger us all into joining..."

"Is there a point to this?" Graces interjected impatiently.

Blaise eyed her from the side for a moment before stopping in the middle of the lawn.

"Don't expect to see your brother anymore," Blaise said stiffly. "Don't expect to see him in our common room, in his bed, at meals, nothing. I think class is the only way you will know he is still living. He is now solely dedicated to sneaking around the castle trying to save your life."

Graces sneered at Blaise's words and turned to leave, but the tall boy stopped her grabbing her arm mercilessly and turning her around.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't have done what you did," Blaise pointed out. "Thomas needed you and you, by some miracle, saved him. What I am saying is that your choices have consequences, Gray, very big consequences. I am telling you this because I have the feeling you are going to turn down Montague's proposal." Graces tightened her lips at Blaise's words, but didn't argue. "Yeah, I knew it. I get it. I really do. People think that because of how I was raised I can't appreciate what marriage is, but I do. I think I appreciate it more than most people, because I never had the stability of my parents' marriage like all of you. I have strangers living in my home that are supposed to be considered family. Family isn't supposed to be temporary, though, and I know that."

"I know you don't know Montague well enough to connect yourself at the hip with him for the rest of your life, but Graces not choosing him will have consequences. I just want to make sure you realize your death will not be the only one. You will take away Draco's peace while he still lives."

"So you think I should marry Graham," Graces summarized, the pit in her stomach becoming greater.

"No, Graces," Blaise whispered gently. "I think you have every right to decline that proposal. I am just asking you to really consider the consequences."

Graces nodded and looked up to the heavens for answer. Each decision she had gone over thoroughly in her head. There was bad with each. Even when she factored out Longbottom.

"If I accept it's like admitting defeat. Draco will think I have accepted his death."

"You're right," Blaise agreed. "He could also take comfort knowing you will be all right and not work the way he is working now. I don't think his death alone kills him the way yours does. I just really want you to be sure about what decision you make," Blaise advised.

Graces worried her lip for a few moments and once again found herself second guessing her decision on this.

"I don't want to marry him," she declared, almost close to tears.

"Are you okay with the consequences that comes with that?"

"Not Draco being a wreck, I don't want him to suffer."

"Graces," Blaise snapped, pulling her chin up from the ground and meeting her eyes. "Then be a damn Slytherin and figure out a plan C."


	52. Chapter 52

Graces didn't have an inkling of an idea as to how she should approach Graham. She stood hidden behind some bookcases trying to think of what she should say to him. She had been standing there behind the dusty copies of old, worn books depicting images of yet another long and boring goblin war, trying to decide how to talk to Graham.

The thought had occurred to her that disturbing him in the library may not be the best idea. She should be patient and wait in their common room for him to arrive, but she couldn't seem to bring herself to do that. She imagined waiting for Graham to come into the common room would be more tortuous than getting it over with and talking to him now. Still, she had no idea how he was going to react.

"Graham?" a shy voice asked hesitantly. Graces frowned and moved a few books out of the way. A petite Hufflepuff was standing behind Graham, her prefect badge glinting from her right side. She had seen the girl around a few times. She was a 7th year and played seeker for the Hufflepuffs. She was Cedric's replacement after fourth year.

She was pretty. She looked a lot like the Patil twins, only her eyes were ice blue and she rarely wore any kind of jewelry or makeup. In fact, now that Graces thought of it, it seemed like she did her very best to not be noticed. She was petite and often times seemed to be trying to make herself small as she walked around in the corridors. Still, she could turn heads.

"I-I'm Wamil," the hufflepuff continued, holding her hand out for Graham to shake. "We have classes together. I-I usually sit in the back with—"

"I know who you are. I've been going to this school seven years, you don't think I've noticed?" Graham scoffed contemptuously, ignoring the hand held out to him.

"Oh... right, well, umm, we've never really been introduced so I thought... nevermind. Anyways, I figured you could use these." Graces watched as the Hufflepuff took out an immense stack of parchment that had odd-colored paper attached. "It's the notes from the days you missed." The girl continued to explain, holding out the paper waiting for Graham to take them. "Really detailed too, I might add. My house gets together each night and we do a note check. We all show one another our notes in case someone forgot something, so they are usually really detailed. I even found out what other classes you had and got you those notes as well. Not that it matters. We almost have all the same classes. I'm just not in two of yours."

When Graham made no motion to reach for the papers the girl awkwardly placed them down in front of him. Her fingers lingering on the edge of a few pages as she looked down to search for words to say.

"I'm so sorry about your sister and nephews," she whispered quietly, toying with the edges of the sheets. "I can't even imagine what you're going through." Graham's posture, if possible, became more rigid and his always stoic demeanor though in place seemed to crack slightly at the girl's words, but Graham didn't move. He sat there in the same manner waiting for the girl to be done. "I just wanted you to know if there is anything I can do: give you some notes, tutor you a bit to help you catch up, or if you just need someone to talk to I'm here."

Graham stared at the delicate golden hand resting on his shoulder. Graces waited for him to stand, or glare at the girl to remove it, but he didn't instead to her surprise he nodded curtly and thanked her.

"If you want I can stay with you," Wamil offered, moving her hand away and taking a seat at the table with him. "I'm free the rest of the night and—"

"That isn't needed," Graham stated flatly, going back to his own notes. "I am quite capable of managing on my own."

"Yes, I realize," Wamil nodded, "but the offer still stands."

Graham stared at Wamil, his dark eyes taking in the soft curves of her face and oceanic eyes. Graces wondered if he was going to nod, he seemed inclined to.

"Good night, Wamil," Graham dismissed, his voice more gentle than Graces was used to hearing.

"Good night, _Graham_ ," the dark-haired girl grinned, standing up slowly and lifting her bag to leave. Graces watched as Graham watched her walk away, before shaking his head and reaching over for the notes.

"She's pretty," Graces commented, emerging from the bookcase she was hiding behind. "Though I suppose someone who is even one-eighth Veela would be. Still, she's pretty and not nearly as annoyingly whimsical as Delacour was when she was around."

Graham seemed to be in a bit of a stupor and it was taking him some time to realize that Graces had been there the whole time watching his reactions with the Hufflepuff. Slowly his cheeks began to burn and Graces found herself holding exceptionally still as he his nostrils began to flare.

"What exactly are you getting at, Malfoy?" Graham asked darkly.

"I'm just saying," Graces shrugged. "No need to get so upset."

"I think you're insinuating that I fancy a half-breed. Exactly how can I not get upset about that? It's disgusting."

"Well, she's not exactly a half breed, if you think about it. More an eighth-breed," Graces pointed out, toeing the floor of the castle with her right foot. When she heard no response she peeked out from under her eyelashes and wondered if Graham was going to crack his teeth gritting them that hard. "Lots of boys have a thing for Veela girls, Graham. It's completely ignored so long as you don't impregnate or marry them, or flaunt them around..."

"You're being crude."

"I'm being honest, maybe you could extend me the same courtesy."

"I am not attracted to animals or half-breeds," Graham maintained, his temper beginning to come out more.

"Well, that's a lie. Every man is attracted to Veela. I even caught Draco sneaking a peek at the World Cup. Father told him not to look, but he snuck a quick glance before my father's cane whacked his shins." Graces giggled at the memory, but quickly stopped when she saw Graham's face was beginning to turn purple. "I'm not saying anything is wrong with it," Graces apologized. "I just was saying—"

"Graces, I asked you to marry me didn't I?" Graces nodded. "Then I think my taste is obvious. I like witches."

Graces nodded again and bit her lip for a moment.

"I think we can both agree I look a lot like a Veela," Graces blurted out, unable to stop herself. "A lot of people have said Draco and I—"

"BUT YOU'RE NOT!" Graham bellowed, slamming his hand against the desk. "YOUR FAMILY IS APART OF THE SACRED TWENTY-EIGHT! NOT EVEN MY FAMILY CAN BOAST THAT TITLE!"

"Miss Malfoy! Mr. Montague! I have half a mind to suspend you from the library for the rest of the year for this kind of disturbance!" Madam Pince hissed, stomping down an aisle of dusty books.

Both Slytherins blushed and muttered their apologies, but the damage was done and they knew it. Each of them had learned in their first years at Hogwarts that Madam Pince was short tempered and unforgiving.

"Both of you out! You're suspended from the library for a week!"

"A week!" Graces screeched. "My grandfather was the one that paid for it to be remodeled! You can't suspend me from the library! My father was the one who added the 6th wing of it and—"

"Two weeks for you, Miss Malfoy," Madam Pince clipped, looming over the blonde. "Want to go for three?"

"No," Graces burst out sourly.

"Good, now off with you and five points each will be taken from your house."

Graces cursed under her breath resulting in another two days being added to her sentance and headed out the library with Graham. The taller boy walked alongside her, silent in his anger, Graces internally berated herself for her foolishness. She should have known better than to say something like that to Graham.

"I'm sorry," Graces whispered.

"You can't just go around saying things like that," Graham gritted, tightening his hands angrily. "If someone had heard, if they—"

"I'm sorry," Graces repeated aggravatedly. "But no one heard a thing until you started yelling at me."

"I'm sorry," the older boy grunted awkwardly, chewing the inside of his cheek and turning a dark shade of red around his neck.

"It's fine," Graces shrugged.

"I take it you have an answer for me."

Graces nodded and nervously turning the invisible ring on her left finger.

"Shall we take a walk around the lake?" Graham asked, offering her his arm politely and seeming to try to take on a more gentlemanly disposition. Graces hesitated, but decided that it would probably be best for them to be in private and took his arm.

He was shaking. Graces tried not to show her surprise at the fact that Graham Montague was shaking like a leaf, but she was sure the other boy saw it. He gave her a quick embarrassed half smile and the two of them began walking. Graces felt like she should say something right away, like she should just blurt out that she wasn't going to take the offer. But she couldn't seem to find the words.

They had been long past the castle and had strolled around the a good portion of the lake when she finally did find her voice.

"Graham, I-I like you, a lot," Graces added, feeling as though she should give him some more validation.

"I like you a lot," Graham acknowledged, giving her a tight smile and tightening his hold on her arm.

"It's just, well, I can't marry you," Graces stated carefully. Graham stopped walking and without releasing her arm looked over at her. "I just don't feel ready," she offered lamely, moving her arm away from him.

"Is-is it because of—" Graham hesitated for a moment, clearly having difficulties putting his words forward. "Is it because of that girl? Because if it is I can—"

"No. No," Graces swore. "Not at all. It's—"

"Is it because I yelled at you," Graham continued, clearly finding her decision to say no almost unthinkable. "Because I swear I—"

"No, it's nothing you've done. It's—"

"Is it something I haven't done then?"

"Graham, it's nothing like that. I just don't feel ready and—"

"Graces," Graham interrupted. "You are in a lot of trouble. _A lot_ of trouble and I have a hard time believing that you could just so easily decide to not take an option that guarantees your life. You're not stupid enough to just dismiss this kind of security, unless you think a marriage to me would be worse than death." Graces stared silently as Graham seemed to be trying to roll in his emotions. "Do you think that if Draco was gone I wouldn't treat you fairly? That I would be harsh and cruel to you?"

"No, of course not," Graces pleaded. "Graham, I don't think anything like that of you I'm just not ready."

The two of them stood there by the lake a few moments. Graces waiting for a reply and Graham staring at her seeming to be reading her like a book. The hairs on the back of her neck stuck up under his critical gaze and she tried to clear her mind and relax.

"If Draco doesn't succeed you will die, Graces," Graham stressed. "There will be no help for you."

Graces hesitated for a moment, before digging in her coat and taking out a series of documents.

"This is really rough," she warned. "I had my barrister make it up today and I really didn't give him much time. We would need to go over this a few more times. Have your barrister owl mine and make a few final drafts, but, well, here."

Graham frowned curiously but took the papers. Graces nervously watched his reaction to the words and held her breath as his eyes widened.

"I will of course remain a silent partner, no one will know that I am the one that gave you the money for all this," Graces stated hesitantly. "My father has a lot of connections in Gringotts and the ministry. It only took a few owls to find out you were trying to get this business started. It's a hard thing getting a loan from the Goblins, and with you being a new patriarch you were likely to be denied or have a very high interest rate. This way it's just yours. Well, sort of yours."

"Let me see if I understand this correctly," Graham started skeptically, thumbing over a few pages and skimming over the contract. "You will put up all the money I need to start this company. You will not be involved in any of the decision making and are asking for only the standard silent partner pay. No one aside from me and Draco will even know the Malfoys are involved."

"Yes," Graces nodded. "You will appear to be the sole entrepreneur. I realize your job at the Ministry will be very taxing of your time, not to mention other duties you are committed to," Graces added, looking at his arm. "And in that case I, or someone you choose to appoint yourself, may also aid you in this, but at the end of the day it will appear to be yours and yours alone."

"What's the catch?" Graham asked, moving his eyes away from the parchment.

"The catch is I will hold more of the company than you." Graham scowled at Graces' words, but the blonde hurriedly continued. "It's my insurance," Graces persisted. "The other part of the agreement is that your proposal of marriage stays on the table. If at any time I decide to take it you will allow me it. So while I am saying no now, if Draco should not succeed I have an option of safety. If you renege on our agreement and I die, everything I own willbe left to another person. And Graham," Graces stated slowly, drawing the older boy's attention away from the paper. "The person I am leaving it to will destroy everything you have worked so hard for in the event of my death. This figure will not be silent. If I should die because of you he will seek revenge."

"I wouldn't do that," Graham gritted pointedly. "I would never—"

"It's just a precaution," Graces shrugged. "My family didn't get where they are today without being careful."

"They most certainly did not," Graham murmured reading more of the papers. "So, if the both of you live you will relinquish your shares to me."

"I will," Graces nodded, "As a thank you."

"Draco's okay with this?"

"This is from my vault. I feel I can make this arrangement without his involvement considering it is my money. Not to mention I have not told Draco yet, but considering our situation he really has no room to disagree."

"I will pay you back for this," Graham whispered. "If you two both live and you relinquish your share, I'll pay you what you put in with interest."

"That's not necessary," Graces smiled, taking that as a yes. "You're giving my brother peace of mind with this. It will be worth the cost. Besides, this isn't that much money to me."

Graham chuckled and put the papers in his pocket.

"You know, I would have kept the offer on the table. You didn't need to do this."

"I didn't want to feel like I owed you anything, and this also guarantees that offer. A lot can happen in a few months."

"That is true," Graham agreed. "Also a lot can stay the same." Graces frowned at the way Graham was looking at her. She felt like he had meaning in his last statement and waited for him to continue. "Are you in love, Graces?"

Graces took a step back and felt like ice water had been shot into her veins.

"What?" she asked almost offended. "What kind of question is that?"

"A valid one," Graham clipped, continuing to meet Graces' eyes. "You said you couldn't date me because of a bloke and I have a feeling you are not marrying me because of the same man."

Graces did her best to school her features so they were mirroring her fathers, but was unable to stop herself from shivering from the cold that had entered her body.

"I just want to know, Graces," Graham said gently. "I'll keep it to myself, but I'm genuinely curious. Are you going through all this trouble because of that "crush" you had back in October?"

"No," Graces swore definitely. "No, of course not."

It was obvious Graham didn't buy her lie. The older boy just continued to stare at her patiently waiting for her to continue.

"Just sign the damn papers," Graces demanded, turning to leave but stopping when she felt Graham's strong hand on her arm.

"Is he—" Graham hesitated and seemed to be debating whether he even wanted to ask his question, "— _appropriate_?" he asked slowly, watching Graces' eyes for a reaction. "Blood status wise."

"Yes, of course," Graces swore. "He's a pureblood."

"Good," Graham sighed. Graces moved to leave, but the older boy tightened his grip. "Why not be with him then?"

"Let go of me, Montague!" Graces snapped trying to tear her arm away and failing miserably.

"Not until you answer," Graham insisted, grabbing Graces other arm when she went for her wand.

"You're hurting me!"

"No, I'm not," Graham scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You're throwing a fit, because you don't want me asking about your private affairs. I just want to know why you, Graces Malfoy, would not be with the man you are pining for if he's a pure blood and—"

"It's none of your business," Graces spat, yanking her arm away to the point where she really was starting to hurt her wrist.

"I just want to know," Graham insisted. "It's odd that you are making this deal with me instead of going after this bloke. And honestly it disturbs me that he hasn't come forth to try and help you. Does he not hold the same feelings for you?"

"Montague, you better let me go right now or—"

"See, that doesn't make sense either. I don't hold those kinds of feelings for you and I am putting my last name on the table to you. Marrying you is a wise decision, so why is it that—"

"BECAUSE DRACO WOULD NEVER APPROVE!" Graces shrieked, surprised herself at the tears that came with that statement. She stopped fighting Graham and went limp in his arms vibrating all over as she cried into his coat. "He won't approve. He would never allow it."

"Maybe if you talked to him?" Graham suggested, awkwardly patting her head. "Maybe if—"

"Draco won't allow it, Graham. I know my brother."

"Is he not an heir?" Graham deadpanned, knowing full well Draco only wanted Graces with an heir or patriarch.

"No, he's not," Graces hiccuped, deciding to give the boy holding her half-truths.

"I'm sorry," Graham whispered. "Love can be cruel at times, can't it?"

"I'm not in love," Graces scoffed.

"You're crying," Graham pointed out quietly. "Crying for what can't be..."

"If I loved him I would be with him,"Graces sniffed, moving out of Graham's arms. "If I loved him I would do anything for him. I don't love him. I am not allowing myself to fall in love with him."

"How are you doing that?" Graham asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm just keeping away from him," Graces lied, not knowing what other answer she could give. She certainly couldn't tell him about refusing to sleep in the same bed as him or say his given name. "That's why I spend so much of my time with Longbottom. It keeps me away from him."

Graham was silent for a few moments and Graces could tell he wanted to say something, but the older boy eventually just nodded his agreement and on continued the silence.

"I'm going to go," Graces said hollowly, wiping away the last of her tears. "I should talk to Draco."

Graham nodded his agreement and Graces took maybe two steps away before Graham called her attention back.

"Does... Does it work?" Graham asked hesitantly. "Staying away from someone you..." Graham let the words dwindle away. Graces stared at Graham's face and felt a knot form in her chest at seeing the desperation lingering in his eyes.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "Good night, Graham."

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"Hey, Nev!" Neville looked up from his potions homework and watched as Colin Creevey practically ran over to him. "Graces Malfoy wants to see you. She's outside right now."

"Oh, thanks, Colin." Neville stood up to go, but the younger boy continued on.

"She looks seriously ticked. Were you two supposed to meet?"

"Uh, maybe," Neville said slowly. "I could have forgot," Neville lied. He and Graces had absolutely no plans to meet. In fact she had come to class, demanded absolute silence to "think" and then practically ran out of there with barely a good bye.

"Well, you must have forgot, because she looks really mad."

Neville frowned at Colin's description but nodded along and slowly made his way to the portrait hole, not even bothering to pick up his things as he went.

"Uh, Malfoy?" Neville said hesitantly, moving out of the way as a group of fourth years hurried through, all of them whispering about the blonde scowling from the side.

"Longbottom," Graces greeted curtly.

"Umm, were we supposed to meet?"

Graces raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at his question before smirking and walking down the steps.

"You could say that," Graces drawled, pirouetting off the last step and heading down the hall. "You were supposed to owl me the notes from Herbology."

Neville scowled at Graces statement. He had given her the notes while she was ill. It made no sense.

"Just play along, Longbottom," Graces muttered under her breathe, turning another corner as a small raven haired girl hurried by with her nose buried in a book.

"Oh, right, the notes!" Neville exclaimed a little louder than necessary. Graces sent him a glare, but didn't say anything more until they turned two more corners and were in an old hall away from any ears. Neville followed her down the hall until they both got to an old broom closet, Graces looked around before opening the door and waving him in.

"Hi," Graces smiled shyly, as though she were coming out of curtains like a child that just finished an elaborate game of hide and seek.

"Hi," Neville chuckled, moving forward and cupping her face in his palms. _There's my girl._ "You seem to be in a good mood, better than this morning in class."

"I am," Graces grinned timidly, moving to her side and taking out stacks of papers. "You're going to be very happy. I figured out a plan C, so now you really don't need to worry about me."

"A plan C?" Neville mouthed, scowling as Graces took out more and more papers.

"Graham is going to keep his offer on the table," Graces explained breathlessly. "I made a deal with him. I would give him the money needed for his little entrepreneur endeavors and in exchange he would keep his proposal of marriage on the table." Neville scowled, but Graces just continued on. "But you see there needs to be more of an insurance. That's where you come in."

"Where I come in?" Neville murmured. "Graces what are you—"

"Sign this," Graces demanded, handing Neville a stack of papers. "I've marked all the areas you need to sign, so just sign it and it will be done."

"Why don't you tell me what exactly I am signing first?" Neville stipulated, pushing the papers and quills back into Graces' hands.

"It's the insurance. If Graham doesn't make honest with our agreement. If my brother fails and he takes his offer off the table."

"You are not making any sense right now, Graces," Neville sighed, trying to not get upset when Graces seemed to be so pleasant.

The blonde seemed to snap out of her euphoria for a moment and Graces nodded and took a breath. Neville spent the next few minutes listening to her plan C. He nodded along as she explained what benefits this would have for Graham and the stipulations she was placing on the money. He had a hard time following her as she explained the business aspect of it all, but he understood the basics. She had the ability to pull the rug out from Montague should he not stay true to their agreement.

"That's where you come in," she said softly, handing Neville the documents. "You will be the one that will take ownership of my shares of Graham's company should I die."

"Me?"

"You," Graces nodded.

"Why not Thomas?"

"I thought about it," Graces admitted. "But I don't want to put Thomas in that position. His family has an alliance with Graham's. If I die Thomas will need all the alliances he can get. In fact the only reason I am now reconsidering my position of dying with my brother is because I fear for Thomas' life should I be gone." Neville took a step back and felt tried to hide the fact that his heart was slamming against his chest. "Do you care about me?" Graces asked, sitting down on the floor and displaying the papers.

"Yes," Neville whispered. "You know I do."

"Will you be angry if I die and it's because of Graham?" Neville nodded. "Will you want to avenge me?" Neville nodded again. "Then you should sign," Graces smirked, holding out her quill.

Neville stared at the elaborate feathered quill Graces was holding out to him. In all honesty he didn't like any of this. The idea of planning for Graces' death made his skin cold and clammy and he felt like he was going to be sick. But he stepped forward to sign. He prayed that this would never be needed, that Graces would live through all of this, but she was right. There were no guarantees. She needed this contract and if he was being honest he was glad he would have a way to get revenge if Montague had any part in taking her from this world.

"People will know about us," he murmured, starting the very last paper.

"I'll be dead," Graces shrugged. "It won't matter. The envelope this is going in will only open at my death." Neville nodded and skimmed over the last paragraph before initialing the final line. "I thought you would be happier."

"Why did you think that?" Neville frowned.

"You were upset that I was dismissing the back up plan. Now I have one."

Neville looked up from the papers and gave Graces a small half smile, before leaning in and kissing her softly.

"I feel a great amount of relief knowing you have something set up to keep you safe," he agreed gently. "But I am having a hard time stomaching precautions in the event of your death."

"Graham won't renege," Graces reassured. "He's a good man. This is just a precaution. He won't go back on his word."

Neville hummed a reply as he leaned in and kissed Graces again. He was becoming so lost in the feel of her lips against his that he didn't notice her pulling the papers away from him and only realized when she gently pushed him away and held the documents like a teddy bear to her chest.

"I have to go," she whispered apologetically, a soft blush coming across her cheeks as she sat back on on her heels. "I need to wait up for Draco. He doesn't know about all this yet. I wanted to have everything set up before I told him."

"Oh how I would love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation," Neville laughed, standing and offering his hand down to Graces to help her up.

"You think he'll be mad?" Graces asked timidly.

"Livid, but I'm sure you knew that."

"It's a good plan," Graces pointed out lamely.

"It is," Neville nodded, "a very good one, but I think we both know why he will be mad."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Graces conceded, biting her lip. "Wish me luck."

"Luck," Neville wished, offering her a sympathetic smile.

Graces smiled, but didn't move towards the door. She stood there a few moments longer biting her lip.

"Longbottom," she began quietly. "I-I have something else for you." Graces slowly reached in her shirt pocket and handed Neville the necklace he gave her so long ago. "I trust you," she explained, staring at the gold and green flecks that danced inside the glass even in the darkened room. "I don't need things like this from you anymore. I trust you."

Neville slowly took the necklace from her palm and let the pendant dangle from the chain for a moment, before carefully putting it around Graces' neck. When the blonde opened her mouth to protest, Neville just leaned in and kissed her silent.

"I want you to have it," Neville declared, moving her fine hair out of the necklace loop. "It's a beautiful piece. It should be worn by a beautiful girl. It shouldn't be sitting in a vault gathering dust."

"It's a family heirloom," Graces argued, her right hand fingering the chain. "I can't—"

"It's mine," Neville interjected. "And I enjoy seeing it on you."

Graces blushed, realizing the only time Neville saw it on her was when she was undressed, but stopped her protesting.

"I'm glad you trust me, though," Neville smiled.

Graces gave a small scoff at Neville's smile, but didn't protest when he pulled her close and held her.

"I have to go wait for Draco," Graces reminded, laying her head on his chest.

"You're free to leave whenever you wish," Neville promised, burying his nose in her sweet smelling hair. "I'm just enjoying the time until you go."

Graces just smiled into his chest and the sandy-haired boy made no argument when she stayed there in his arms for a long while before sighing heavily and wishing him a good night. Neville stood in the closet alone for a bit after she left and had just started to feel the ache in his chest that came with her absence when the blonde ran back in and kissed him soundly before departing again. Neville grinned and sauntered off to his dorm, completely drunk off that last kiss and so happy that when he entered the common room instead of going back to his potions assignment he called Dean, Harry, Seamus and Ron over for a game of Exploding Snap.

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Draco yawned for the millionth time. He felt like with every breath he took he was just continuing the same elongated yawn. He yawned and his eyes got teary and soon after he was done rubbing the moisture away he was yawning and more tears came. He was exhausted. Never in his life had he been more tired than he was now. It wasn't just the sleep deprivation; it was the physical and emotional exhaustion taking hold of him. He dragged his feet through the dungeons, promising himself a warm bed and a good nights rest if he made it a little further.

He had just made it to the entrance in the common room and had began thinking of how amazing his pillow was going to feel when Graces stood up from one of the old leather chairs. _Gods be damned..._

"Draco?" Graces asked, moving from around the sofas and staring at him. He imagined by the way she was looking at him that he must look just a much a mess as he felt.

"Not now," he murmured, heading to the steps determined to allow himself the sleep he needed.

"It's important," Graces stressed, following him. "It's about Graham's proposal."

Draco halted on the step and forced his body to turn around.

"What have you decided?" Draco silently prayed that Graces would hurry up, the air around him had started to sting his eyes the longer he kept them open.

"I'm not going to marry him," Graces whispered, her identical eyes staring up at him nervously.

It took a bit for Draco to process. He stood like a statue on the staircase for a long while before he realized what Graces was saying what she was doing.

"Why?" Draco choked, his chest beginning to vibrate from the cold that wasn't around.

"I'm just not ready. I—"

"Are you ready to die?" Draco barked, taking a step forward and misstepping. He clutched the stone wall to keep from falling over, but didn't position himself upright. He glared at his sister waiting for her to answer him.

"No," she breathed, moving a hand out to him. "Draco, no not at all. I—"

"You're dead," Draco growled. "Do you not see that? YOU'RE DEAD!"

"Draco, I have a plan," Graces promised, clearly trying to reassure him.

"Oh you have a plan," Draco cackled. "You fucking have a plan. Like I never thought to make a bloody plan!"

Draco didn't even realize he had grabbed his sister and shoved her against the wall, until he felt her hands bracing his arms to keep her balance. Shame immediately flooded him at seeing her gray eyes staring up at him. He had never touched her in this manner. Even when they fought he had never really over powered her.

"You're such a child," he sputtered, releasing her from his hold and sitting on the steps to cry. "Such a fucking child. Someone was always supposed to take care of you. If it wasn't mum and dad it was me. If it wasn't me it was to be your husband."

"I don't need to be someone's burden I—"

"Well you are!" Draco shouted. "You're my burden. Mine. And you were supposed to choose Graham Montague and lift this from me! You're supposed to lift this from me," Draco sobbed, clutching his hair and rocking back and forth.

"Draco, I'm not just saying—"

"Just shut up," Draco snapped. "You know I knew you were going to say no. I knew it. I mean when have you ever done something you didn't want to do. No, Graces always always gets her way. Heaven forbid she has to sacrifice anything."

"That's not fair, Draco. This is my life!"

"You don't think I know that!" Draco snarled. "You don't think I'm not thinking of your damn life. My whole being is to keep you alive! I wish you worked as hard as I've been at it!"

"No one ever said you had to do this alone," Graces argued tightly. "I have begged for you to let me help you. BEGGED! And you refuse. You won't let me do anything! You're making me helpless and—"

"I'm making you helpless," Draco laughed. "I gave you the perfect opportunity to save yourself and you're throwing it away!"

"I'm not throwing it away!" Graces screamed, taking a bunch of parchment from inside her night robes. "Look, I've ensured that I'll be safe I—"

Draco snached the papers his sister was holding and began reading them over.

"You've got to be kidding me," he growled.

"It means that if you fail I can still take Graham's offer. I can still be safe, but this allows me to have my own life if you succeed. I won't have to marry him at all. I can—"

Draco threw the papers down the stairs silencing his sister's long over practiced speech. The blonde watched as the flurry of papers floated down to the ground.

"All you had to do was say yes," Draco said, shaking his head and staring forward. "That's it. All you had to do was make the smart choice. Instead you made things complicated. You chose to table a bloke's offer of marriage. Won't that make a wonderful occasion. Graham will now always know you didn't want to marry him, that you only said yes because I failed."

"He would have known I was saying yes for that reason anyways," Graces whispered, a bit dazed from Draco's reaction.

"No, no you could have been smart and asked to get to know him and played along," Draco seethed. "You could have—"

"If you want me to marry Graham just demand it!" Graces stomped, standing up and looming over him. "Just say 'Graces, I demand you marry Graham.'" Draco tightened his jaw, but refused to meet her eyes. "Is it my decision or not Draco?"

"It's your decision."

"Then respect it! I made sure to arrange this as best I could. I did my best to give you peace of mind. Yeah, I don't want to sell my body to Montague for my life just yet. I don't think that's an insane thing! We are not doomed yet. I am not dead. Do you hear me? DRACO, LOOK AT ME." Draco took a deep breath and stared up at his other half. "I'm -not -dead."

"You're making mistakes, Graces," Draco whispered. "Big mistakes. Mistakes that no one is going to be able to make better. If I'm gone-"

"Draco, look at me," Graces pleaded, getting down on her knees and cupping his face in her palms. "You are not going anywhere. You belong here with me and we are going to figure out what to do."

"I-I can't figure it out," Draco whimpered. "I can't—"

"Then let me help you," Graces stressed.

Draco didn't answer. He couldn't seem to even breathe over the lump that had gathered in his throat. Instead he took Graces' hands off his face and kissed the inside of her palms allowing his own tears to smear across her skin as he shook his head no.

"I want to help you."

"No, you don't," Draco wept, pulling her in and holding her close to him. "Your hands are staying clean. I won't allow you to be involved in this more than you are."

"Do you really think I'm a burden?"

"No, I don't," Draco shook, holding her tighter. "You're my saving grace."

"I'll marry Graham if you want me to," Graces whispered quietly, tightening her grip around his neck. "If you want me to, I'll marry him. We can have the wedding during Christmas break at the manor. Mum can plan it."

Draco held his breath and wondered how discussions of weddings could hurt so much. But it did. It really hurt. He felt like something was tearing him from his throat down to his stomach.

"You could take me to Paris to get my dress," Graces suggested, nuzzling his neck with her nose. "It will be fun and—"

"I don't want you to marry Graham," Draco sputtered, unable to bear hearing his sister pretend to be okay with a marriage she didn't want. "You were right. There is no need to rush. I'm going to take care of everything."

"Draco, I—"

"No, it's settled. Not until you have to," Draco promised.

"Will I have to?" Graces asked.

"Not if I can help it."

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to go to bed?"

Draco was surprised how such a stupid question to make him laugh, but it did. It made him laugh and thank whatever god decided to bless him with a sister.

"Yeah, I do," he nodded.

"Me too... You should sleep with me. Pansy will have a conniption in the morning when you see her without makeup. It will be amazing."

"Sounds good to me, but I doubt I will wake up before Pansy can put on her face as you call it."

Draco basked in his sister's giggle and followed her to her room. He was so tired he didn't even remember making it to the bed, the last thing he remembered was placing his head on his sister's shoulder and letting her guide him up the stairs.


	53. Chapter 53

Potions class had always been a sort of meditation for Graces. She enjoyed the odd smells that poured into her nose reminding her that she was privileged enough to be magical. She liked watching something transform in front of her eyes from a pile of meaningless ingredients to something life-saving. She felt a great sense of relief knowing that there was a specific set of instructions telling her what to do and that, so long as she followed said instructions, she could expect success. And up until recently she enjoyed that her head of house was in charge of the class and thus she had entertainment of watching the Gryffindors lose points and be degraded. Well, that was less exciting these days when it was Neville at the brunt of Snape's tongue, but still she enjoyed potions... until today.

"I died," Graces hissed, looking back at Harry and his potion, trying to keep from screaming as Professor Slughorn continued to fawn all over him. "I died and I went to hell. I didn't survive. I bloody died and am doomed to live in this alternative universe where Potter is the master of potions."

"We don't believe in hell," Draco pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"Well, that was before I was sent to it. It's kind of hard to not believe in something when you're there."

"You know, I don't really care for your humor these days," Draco muttered, angrily trying to cut the sopophorous bean and growling angrily as it kept slipping away from his knife.

"See," Graces whispered. "Hell."

"The instructions say to cut! But it bloody won't cut!" Draco grunted, flinging his knife on the table.

"Hell," Graces sang, offering her brother a teasing smile.

Draco pursed his lips but after a small nudge on Graces' part he gave in and smiled a bit about it all.

"You're still not funny," he scoffed, trying to cut the bean again. Graces grinned at his denial and did her best to work on her own potion.

"Good thing this is just a competition," she sighed when she couldn't seem to cut the bean either.

"He's trying to see who he would want to be in his little club," Draco whispered, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one could hear. "You know, as annoying as Slughorn is, every person he collects as his favorite student goes on to do great things... in part because he has all the connections to help them achieve great things," Draco added bitterly.

"You didn't seriously want him to pay us mind, did you?" Graces deadpanned, giving her brother an exasperated look.

Draco didn't answer, instead he took the end of his pestle and pounded the bean angrily, crushing it.

"Feel better?" Graces asked, picking up the crushed bean with her thumb and index finger.

"A bit."

"Mr. Longbottom," Professor Slughorn called cheerfully, moving over to where Neville was working. "Can you explain what you just did?"

"I, uh, I—"

Graces looked over to see Neville going red from the attention of the class and his eyes kept shifting to the book as though to make sure he didn't do anything incorrect.

"You're not doing anything wrong, my boy," Slughorn chuckled. "I was just hoping you could explain to the class what you're doing."

"The, uh, potion calls for the cauldron to be tipped at a certain angle," Neville explained hesitantly. "So I put a charm on the cauldron that would tip it to the angle specified."

"Can you explain to the class why this is such an important step?"

"Because, umm, the wormwood is an oil in this potion and-and we want to ensure that when it is poured it isn't mixing incorrectly, the best way to ensure the oil is not mixed directly at the cauldron's hot spot is to pour it in at certain angles depending on how you want it mixed," Neville quoted, his eyes moving towards Graces every once in a while as he spoke. Graces bit the inside of her cheek and looked down at the ground, trying to hide her prideful smirk, but she was pretty sure Neville saw and she prayed Draco didn't notice her blush.

"Excellent!" Professor Slughorn proclaimed. "Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom. You know, your father was excellent with potions as well."

"Oh," Neville blushed. "Well, I'm not very good at potions," he admitted. "I just... Malfoy tutors me."

"Does he now?" Professor Slughorn asked, looking over to Draco.

"No, uh, the other one," Neville corrected. "Graces Malfoy."

Graces raised a suspicious eyebrow at Neville placing Professor Slughorn's attention on her, but quickly schooled her features to quiet boredom. Slughorn looked over at the blonde for a moment and Graces, not wanting the attention of him or the class, turned back to her own potion, plopping the crushed bean in her cauldron to appear as she was doing something and stared wide-eyed as the color of her Draught of Living Death improved.

"I was really awful before she started helping me," Neville continued. "I believe you saw just last week how incompetent I can be when it comes to potions. You know, blowing up cauldrons and all," Neville murmured under his breathe embarrassedly. "But she really is a good tutor. She tutors all of the younger years in her house too."

"Does she now?" Slughorn asked. Graces could practically hear the wheels in his head turning about her and bristled slightly as the older man went over to her cauldron.

"Yes, she does."

"You're putting me on a pedestal, Longbottom," Graces said, checking the temperature of her cauldron before looking up at the professor pointedly. "Somewhere I don't belong. I have no interest in being someone's glorified trinket. You did the work and now you have the benefits."

Slughorn's demeanor changed quickly at Graces words and the pudgy man stared down his nose at her imperfect potion before walking away.

"You kill me," Draco groaned. "You seriously just kill me."

"I don't want to be apart of the Slug Club," Graces shrugged. "Not that he would even consider me. He doesn't like the whole Death Eater thing, remember?"

"If you played your cards right an exception could have been made for you," Draco muttered irritatedly. "You're talented. Talented enough where he may be willing to ignore who your father is."

"Draco," Graces said patiently. "Have you looked at me lately? I don't think it's possible to ignore who my father is."

"I just don't think it's wise for you to close doors of opportunity."

"I am disgustingly rich," Graces scoffed. "What most people hope to achieve I already have. Don't worry about my opportunities."

"I know you've lost _opportunities_ since father's incarceration," Draco said lowly after a moment of silence. "You don't have to pretend with me. I know that—"

"Draco," Graces interrupted not wanting to go down this road in memory lane. "Can we not?"

Draco opened his mouth to say more, but seem to decide against it.

"Longbottom sure is quick to sing your praises," he commented after a while.

"You know he fancies me," Graces pointed out casually, praying her brother didn't think too much on it.

"I think it would be best for you to distance yourself from him."

"Why?" Graces frowned, pretending to be more curious than upset.

"People are talking."

"About me and Longbottom?" Graces laughed. "You're kidding. Gods be mad, they're not serious are they? Longbottom and me."

"Not quite that," Draco smirked. "That's a bit far-fetched. They just think you allow too much. I believe the phrase starved for attention was used."

"Well, who doesn't like attention," Graces grinned.

"Other boys would be glad to give you their attention."

"Yes, but I like having it free from obligation. If any of the boys in our house gave me attention I would be expected to date them or something. Plus, I like having the affections from one of Potter's little friends," Graces winked. "It really rubs Granger the wrong way."

"I don't even think Potty and the Weasel know he likes you." Graces shrugged and continued to scowl at her potion, muttering to herself about how it didn't make sense for it to be so wrong. "Longbottom is crossing lines," Draco continued sternly. "He came to our common room. He—"

"He helped me," Graces defended.

"He should never have—"

"If he hadn't I would have been in more pain," Graces persisted. "We talked about this."

"Yeah, well others are talking about it too," Draco grumbled. "And a lot of them don't like how much he _knows_."

Graces stilled for a moment.

"He can't say a word," she whispered, closing her eyes as her stomach dropped. "He's not even a threat."

"Threat or not, he knows and people don't like him knowing."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Graces asked her voice bordering on shrill.

"It means people don't like it," Draco frowned, now staring at his sister.

Graces nodded her head slowly and looked back down in her cauldron. She wondered if Neville was in danger if he now had a price on his head. She wondered if she should ask...

"Is he going to be killed?" Graces whispered, doing her best to not let her brother see how upset she was becoming.

"Eventually, but probably not over this," Draco shrugged off handedly. "By the time we are out of school I doubt anyone will be worrying about it. The task should be done, all should be out in the open kind of thing. I'm just saying people don't like him being so close to our matters. I want you to spend less time with him."

Graces having a sense that arguing would be placing too much attention on the situation agreed and spent the rest of the class trying to decipher how the hell Harry Potter had become so great at potions. He was the only one in the class able to make the Draught of Living Death perfectly, thus earning him the prized Felix Felicis.

"It just doesn't make sense," Draco growled walking towards the door with her, glaring angrily over at Harry.

"I know, maybe it was just luck," Graces suggested.

"Yeah... luck..." Draco pouted, clearly not happy with the answer. "I better get to class. Don't wait up for me at dinner. I have things to do."

Graces nodded and tried to ignore the bad feeling settling in her stomach as her brother nodded a goodbye and left down the opposite hall. She slunk over to join Pansy and Millicent as they walked to class, but every few moments looked back towards where Draco disappeared. She really did want to help him. She knew he wanted her to have no part of his task, but still she wanted to help. _He and I would both be less miserable if we were together,_ she thought sadly before putting on a brave face and talking to Pansy about Octavian staying with them during the weekend.

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Neville watched Graces pop yet another chocolate in her mouth at dinner and knew it meant one thing... trouble.

Big trouble, judging by the pile of wrappers brimming out of her bag and the untouched shepherd's pie sitting on her plate. He really had no clue when this came up. She certainly wasn't stuffing her face with chocolate that morning, or during potions. He had first noticed the chocolate after potions class when she was walking with Pansy, but it hadn't been odd. She often snuck a chocolate after class, especially double potions, but now he had seen her eating bars of Honey Dukes, mounds of chocolate frogs and he was sure he even saw sugar quills during study hall.

Neville inwardly groaned and pushed his own dinner away, his stomach filling with dread as he anticipated the evening of Malfoy insanity he was about to have. Quietly he went through his interactions with her throughout the day. Nothing really stood out, except him trying to get Slughorn to notice her in potions, but he didn't see how that would get her angry or upset to the point where she was now gorging on chocolate.

When Graces got up from the table to leave he didn't follow soon after. Instead he continued to run through every scenario he could think of. Sadly, there were a million reasons her mood could be bad. Eyeing his watch, he decided he should be going before he was late. Another reason to make Graces upset just wouldn't do.

He took his time winding through the halls full of students all making their way to their evening plans. A surge of envy coursed through him briefly at seeing Dean and Ginny walking hand in hand. Some days he longed to have a relationship with Graces that could be that simple. Not wanting to dwell on such feelings, he hurried past.

He loved Graces. And while he longed to be able to be open with her about his feelings, that was the last thing he needed to focus on. She had other things going on in her life, more dangerous things. What he should be focusing on was helping her get through those obstacles and finding ways to make her safer than she was now. _And maybe teaching her better ways to manage stress,_ he thought, opening the door to the classroom and watching Graces unwrap another sweet as she faced the front of the room.

"Hey," he greeted, moving her hair away and kissing the back of her neck softly.

Graces covered her mouth shyly before muttering a hello. Neville couldn't help but smile fondly as the blonde hurried to swallow. He started gently rubbing her shoulders while he waited. She was tense, more tense than anyone needed to be. He wanted so much to take care of her, to be that person that could make all the bad go away.

"So," he began slowly, still keeping the rhythmic massage going. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

Neville glanced at the chocolate wrappers to the side. "You just seem... tense," he mentioned, deciding that calling Graces out on her sugar habit may not be the best way to start things

"I have a lot to be tense about," Graces reminded, a curt edge to her words.

"Yeah, right," Neville blushed, feeling foolish. He kissed her cheek sadly and took the seat next to her absently playing with one of the purple wrappers from a long line of sweets. He didn't know what to say or how to say it, so he sat in silence hoping he would not make things worse.

"When did Potter become so good at potions?" Graces asked accusingly as she stared at the potion instructions from earlier that day.

"Not sure," Neville shrugged. "He studies more now. He's always reading that potions book. Maybe he just wants to be better for Slughorn," he murmured absently, remembering how he had wanted to do better for who he thought was Moody. "Slughorn seems nice. Harry responds well to good teachers."

"Please, he's only nice because he thinks of students as trophies," Graces scoffed.

Neville shrugged noncommittally.

"Maybe," he allowed, now grabbing another wrapper to fiddle with. "I think he's nice though. I blew up a cauldron the other week... " Neville peeked out at Graces and saw she didn't seem to like that statement. "I was worried about you and all," he added sheepishly. "Anyways, I blew it up and also ruined Harry's potions book. Professor Slughorn didn't get mad, though. He gave Harry an old copy that was lying in a cupboard and he told me that accidents were a part of brewing."

"Accidents _are_ a part of brewing," Graces agreed, a softness coming to her voice as she stared at him. "But I still wouldn't put merit in what Slughorn thinks," she stressed. "I don't want you to care too much of his opinion. If it's good that's grand, but don't put much thought into him. Slughorn only appreciates people that benefit him. Remember that."

Neville frowned at Graces' warning, but the blonde turned away, apparently done with discussing Slughorn. Neville watched her closely as she continued to read through her notes on the potion. Every few moments she would nervously glance over at him, but despite Neville's efforts to seem open and comforting the blonde continued to regard him with anxiety.

"Graces," Neville began gently, discarding the wrappers and taking her hand away from the book and into his. "What's wrong?"

Graces tried to deny that nothing was wrong, but as usual Neville was able to read her. She wished she could avoid his intense gaze and just continue to lie, but she couldn't seem to find the strength.

"I think we should only see each other at night," she murmured looking down at the castle floor. "When everyone is asleep. I don't think it should appear that we spend any time together."

Graces peeked up through her lashes to see that a small frown had formed on Neville's face. She without realizing it gripped his hand tighter and gritted her jaw in an effort to not do something completely and utterly stupid like cry. Neville seemed to realize though and lifted her chin up as he leaned in close.

"Why?" he asked patiently.

"Same reason as always," Graces whispered tightly. "I don't want people to catch on."

"Are people catching on?" Neville asked, searching her eyes, despite Graces efforts to look away.

"No."

"Then I don't—"

"Draco asked me not to see you as much," Graces interrupted, hoping that answer would satisfy him, but Neville seemed not to believe that was the end of it. She could tell he was seeing through her. It sent shivers down her back and made her hair stand on end. She remembered him asking her once why she didn't want to be seen, why she wore one face when God had given her another. It made her breath catch and her palms sweat. Did he now know her so much that she couldn't hide?

She looked up at Neville's brown eyes and realized he did. She couldn't lie to him, he knew there was more. Part of her knew that he should know anyways, and another part of her wished she could keep him in the dark, preserve him as he was now. She could see that what had happened the past few weeks had affected him. He had aged. Not as much as Draco and her, but she could see it around his eyes. It had been there before her. She had seen the lack of childish innocence before, but now it was so much more pronounced. Battling at the Ministry and being cruciated by her father had not torn such a big piece out of him as seeing her on that bed.

"The wrong people are noticing you," Graces admitted quietly. "A lot of people are unhappy you came and saw me after... well, you know. They don't like you knowing so much. What was a funny crush has now become serious in their eyes. Right now you're just being noticed, but I'm scared if we continue they will see you as a threat. And no unbreakable vow will save you then."

"If they don't see us around one another anymore, if I don't tutor you anymore then you will be out of sight, out of mind. They will not completely forget, but it won't be heavy on their mind. Every time I meet you, it's like I'm reminding them of what you know."

Neville sat back in his chair and stared intently at her. She held her breath from the sting that came when his hand slipped out of hers, but she didn't say a word. She had said all that needed to be said, now she just needed Neville to agree.

"You don't need to worry about me," Neville said after a while.

"That is something a very foolish person would say," Graces responded tightly over the lump growing in her throat. "Don't be a Gryffindor, Longbottom. Heroes die."

"I'm not being a hero," Neville said. "I just am not worried."

"That's good for you," Graces choked out. "But I am. I'm worried for you."

It had taken a lot to admit, but she let the words hang in the air. Neville tried to wipe the small tears away from her face, but she turned away disconcerted and said nothing, a silent resistance to Neville trying to dissuade her fears.

"Graces," Neville whispered. "If anything happens you know that it was all by my choices, right? You are not the one responsible for anything that happens to me."

"It has nothing to do if whether or not I'm responsible," Graces snapped angrily, standing up from the chair and facing the wall. "It won't matter."

"This is nothing," Neville pleaded. "So what if a few students here don't like me knowing something. They can't really do much about it, can they? I can't do anything with my knowledge. We're all at a standstill. It would be pretty stupid for someone to go after me and risk being caught when I couldn't do anything anyways. I would understand if you wanted to do this because people were suspicious, but this isn't a reason for—"

"Longbottom, will you stop being such a Gryffindor and listen to me!" Graces exclaimed, kicking a stool angrily across the room and turning around. "There is no need to take such a ridiculous risk! This is why so many of you valiant Gryffindors die before you reach thirty! You have this belief that you're untouchable! Well, guess what, you are, and if you don't listen to me you might as well start digging your damn grave!"

Graces turned away again as Neville stood up from the chair. She was so sick and tired of crying. She felt like all she did now was cry. She was turning into Moaning Myrtle she cried so much. She felt Neville wrap his arms around her, trying to give her comfort and she cried even more from the gentle touch.

"Night time it is then," Neville murmured, kissing her temple gently. Graces stifled a sob, before turning around and holding onto him as well. It felt good to cry in Neville's arms. Crying was awful, but being held and hushed by someone so caring and gentle made her tears more bearable. She had what she wanted, Neville was doing what she asked and yet her stomach still turned.

"Do you think it will raise suspicion for us to just stop our tutor sessions?" she asked, looking up. "They all know you're mad for me. They might find it odd that you just stopped vying for my attention and—"

"I'll take care of it," Neville sighed. "Just be in a very Malfoy mood tomorrow."

Graces scowled and was about to ask what exactly that was supposed to mean, but when she saw Neville's face she decided to keep her mouth shut. Whatever his plan was he didn't seem exactly thrilled to do it. She wondered idly what it was he was planning, but she understood that he didn't, for whatever reason, want her to ask.

"Are you making some great sacrifice on my behalf?" she asked quietly, nuzzling her nose in his neck.

"There is no sacrifice too great for you, Graces," Neville smiled, tilting her chin up and kissing her soundly.

"You and your pretty words," Graces murmured between soft butterfly kisses.

Neville chuckled and kissed her again moving his hand into her long hair as he pressed her against the castle wall. A familiar feeling began welling up in her as Neville's warm lips glided upon her skin and before she knew it her head was cloudy and her breathe harsh.

"I missed you," Neville whispered against her collar between butterfly kisses. "I missed you so much, Graces."

"I missed you too," the blonde breathed, closing her eyes and arching more into him. Words seemed to dwindle away, just as the world around them with each caress. Graces wondered if Neville knew how much she hurt. How deeply she ached. His mouth continued to take her in hungrily, desperately and she met him much the same. Needing him in ways she was sure he would never know.

Neville hurriedly discarded his shirt, throwing it behind him as he once again swept Graces in his arms. Graces reveled in the feel of his warm skin beneath her hands. She was so transfixed in sensation that she didn't realize Neville had begun to undo her blouse. It was the feel of his warm hand snaking in through the cloth that brought her back.

Before Neville could go any farther she turned away, quickly closing her blouse before Neville could see.

"I need to go," she whispered, her skin flushing with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Graces?"

Graces closed her eyes at the uncertainty in Neville's voice.

"I'm not completely healed," she admitted, not wanting Neville to think it was him. "There-there is scarring."

She felt Neville's hands move to her shoulders, before slowly wrapping around her from behind.

"You don't need to be self-conscious with me," Neville whispered, kissing the curve of her neck down.

"It's bad," Graces argued. "It looks awful. It's going to take a few treatments with this special salve before the skin is back to normal and-and I don't want you to see."

Graces shrugged Neville off her and moved behind one of the desks so it could act as a barrier. The Gryffindor sighed, but made no move to come after her.

"I thought you trusted me."

"I do," Graces nodded. "I trust you, but that doesn't mean I want you to see. Trust me, you don't want to see. It's awful. My whole abdomen is mutilated."

"Mutilated is a very strong word," Neville said worried her lip and tried not to start crying all over again. "You really believe you're mutilated, huh?" Neville asked sadly.

"I do."

"I bet I won't."

"You're too kind to say if you did," Graces rasped.

"You could look in my head and see if I was lying."

"Is it that important?" Graces asked, meeting his eyes. "Is you and I... being that way together that important?"

Neville straightened his stance and Graces could tell he didn't like the question that in a way he was offended she asked.

"Of course it's not," Neville proclaimed. "But you shouldn't feel that—"

"I don't want to," Graces interrupted. "I can't. Haven't I lost enough of my dignity? Don't make me suffer through more." Neville tried to tell her that no matter what her stomach looked like he would still be attracted to her. He wasn't going to be in any way put off by it, but Graces continued to shake her head. "I like the way you look at me," she rasped. "I like being thought beautiful."

"I will always think you are beautiful," Neville stressed evenly. "There is a lot more to you that makes you beautiful and I'm not talking about externally."

"Well, I prefer for you to see me only beautiful externally too," Graces maintained, folding her arms across her chest.

Neville bowed his head into his hands before letting out a slow breath and agreeing not to see.

"I don't like that you feel that way about yourself," Neville murmured after a while. "You shouldn't feel ashamed of this."

"I'm not ashamed. I just don't like how it looks."

Neville didn't seem to agree, but he didn't press the matter anymore. Instead he opened his arms up and waved Graces to sit on his lap. Graces eyed him for a moment, before deciding that this wasn't some plot to try and change her mind. She gingerly sat down and Neville enfolded her once again against his chest.

She laid there for a long time with her head against his chest, just enjoying the feel of him around her.

"You never told me what happened with Graham," Neville pointed out quietly.

"He took the deal."

"That was it?"

"That was it," Graces yawned, burying her nose more into his neck. "He doesn't have feelings for me. It's not like he was going to beg me to marry him when he got what he wanted anyways."

"He just wanted the money?"

"He wanted to protect me, I suppose," Graces shrugged. "But the marriage was one of convenience, not of passion or anything like that. Graham, I believe, does like someone, but it's not me." Graces could tell Neville was frowning, she knew him well enough to know he would find all of what she said odd. "Not everyone marries for love. Most marry for the benefit of their family."

"My family doesn't," Neville pointed out. Graces just shrugged and curled up more in Neville's lap.

"How's your brother doing?"

Graces frowned at the question before answering he was fine.

"And Thomas?"

"He's adjusting."

"He's important to you, isn't he?"

"He is," Graces sighed. "You know he named me Octavian's godmother. They're both very important to me."

Neville was silent for a few minutes, one of his fingers playing with a strand of her hair as he held her.

"I need to go," Neville stated gently moving Graces off him. Graces frowned at Neville's abruptness, but stood up with him. "I'm sorry," he continued, kissing her cheek. "I need to see about something and I want to see about it right away."

"What do you need to see about?" Graces asked confused.

"I don't want to say just yet. I'll see you tomorrow, maybe we can meet late at night?"

Graces nodded and received one final kiss before Neville finished buttoning up his shirt and was out the door. She walked out of the room on auto-pilot. This was the last time she would see Neville during normal hours. They could no longer meet one another after dinner or during the afternoon on the weekends, now they were fated only for the night. The night when they were both tired and worn from a day with classes. She wished he hadn't left. She was sure whatever it was was important, but still she wished he had stayed.

"G-graces?" Graces turned over to one of the antique desks in the corner of the common room and saw Thomas sitting among piles of papers and books. "I c-could use some h-help."

"Of course, darling," Graces smiled, moving over to the chair next to him. She spent the rest of the night helping Thomas catch up, the younger boy kept reminding her almost every hour on the hour that he was technically excused from the work, but she insisted it was for the best. She still thought of Neville the whole time and when she went to sleep that night her mind was still with him.


	54. Chapter 54

"Neville, are you okay?" Dean asked, growing more and more concerned for his friend as the morning ticked by.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Neville nodded, retying his tie for what had to be the seventh time. "This still isn't straight, is it?" Neville asked, undoing the maroon and gold cloth again.

"Neville, it's fine. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," Neville blushed. "Nothing."

Dean looked over at Seamus who seemed to be just as perplexed as him about their friend's behavior.

"Dean, could—would you mind if I used some of that cologne you have?"

"No, uh, go ahead."

"Thanks," Neville smiled, reaching over to his nightstand and taking a few squirts. Dean was about to ask what was going on, if this had to do with a girl, but before he could Neville was hurrying out the door, calling back that he will see them at breakfast.

"Ya don't reckon it's a girl, do ya?" Seamus asked, as they made their way to the Great Hall.

"Seems like it's a girl," Dean agreed. "You think he is reconsidering his feelings for Hannah?"

"Nah, I think it's Luna," Seamus nodded. "I think there was something going on between them and then us bursting into the room at his party stopped it and he's been too embarrassed since to approach her."

"What are you two gossiping about?" Ginny teased, joining them as they entered the Great Hall.

"Nothing!" the two exclaimed in unison.

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"Graces."

"Hmmm?"

"Are you aware that Neville Longbottom has barely taken his eyes off you since he sat down for breakfast?" Blaise drawled, buttering his toast, but looking at the blonde beside him from the corner of his eye.

"I'm aware," Graces muttered, thumbing through a few more pages of Witch Weekly as though such news wasn't at all interesting.

"I wasn't aware," Pansy squeaked, now looking up from her own magazine to see Neville quickly looking down.

Blaise watched as Graces' cheeks turned a subtle shade of pink and she angrily flipped to the next page demanding everyone to please just ignore it.

"What's his deal with you," Blaise wondered aloud. "I just don't understand why he's so infatuated with you."

"Thanks," Graces deadpanned.

"Oh, you know I didn't mean it like that," Blaise scoffed. "It's just odd, the extent of his infatuation. Now this, this seems more normal. I understand some poor sap like Longbottom staring at you longingly and getting all flustered as people notice, but coming into our common room, being determined to stay by your side..."

"What's your point, Blaise?" Graces snapped obviously becoming more angrier by the second.

"I don't have one," Blaise admitted. "I'm just saying. Longbottom is an interesting bloke." Graces scowled at his statement, before turning back to her magazine and repeating for everyone to ignore him.

"What are you like alone with him?" Blaise asked casually after a few moments.

"What do you think I'm like alone with him?" Graces asked offensively.

"I'm just asking," Blaise pointed out raising his hands up in defense. "He's clearly mad for you so—"

"I shag his brains out when we're alone," Graces snapped. "I shag his brains out and we listen to muggle music and discuss muggle books. There, happy?"

Blaise sent a look over to Pansy who seemed just as at a loss as he was for Graces amount of anger, but the other Slytherin girl didn't appear to know what to do either.

"Graces," Blaise began patiently. "I'm just asking. No need to be so upset."

"Well, I am upset," Graces hiccuped. "He keeps looking at me!"

"Too bad Draco isn't here at the moment," Pansy sighed. "I doubt Longbottom would keep looking over here with him around."

"You're not being helpful, Pans," Blaise droned. Pansy shrugged and went back to her magazine. "In all serious, Gray, what are you like with him?"

Graces stared down at the table and worried her lip. Blaise wondered if she was trying to find the words, or wondering if she had brought on Longbottom's attention herself.

"I'm polite," Graces admitted, clearly thinking she should be ashamed of this. "Not really that friendly, we do have moments like when we made that bet, but yeah... I'm cordal."

Pansy now was looking back up from her magazine, frowning at Graces statement.

"He saved my life," Graces murmured defensively. "It's a life debt. I try to be as tolerant as I can with him. He—I teach him like I do the younger years."

"So you're not at all unkind?" Blaise scowled.

"I wouldn't say that," Graces droned. "I can be extremely unkind some days, but he just ignores it."

"So which are you? Polite, friendly or unkind?" Pansy asked in confusion.

"Polite up until she loses her temper," Blaise clarified, knowing Graces.

Graces nodded and tucked a stray strand behind her ear.

"Well, why even bother being polite?" Pansy asked. "I mean, it's Longbottom. He's a blood traitor and—"

"I owe him this life debt," Graces stressed patiently. "And I need him for Herbology. You know I would fail without him."

Both Slytherins nodded sympathetically at Graces' words. Blaise in many ways felt sorry for his friend. On one hand he felt she brought this on herself, he distinctly remembered a day in Potions where she lead Neville on just for giggles and now she was stuck dealing with the sap.

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Hermione was determined not to look at Neville. If she looked at him she would probably hex him. She saw him looking over at Malfoy and she just couldn't stomach watching him behave similar to Lavender Brown. Out of all the girls he could be interested in it had to be Graces. She just didn't understand how anyone could be so shallow.

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Neville bit down on the inside of his cheek and asked himself once again if he wanted to do this. He loved Graces, he did, but at the same time he really wasn't looking forward to being humiliated in front of the whole school.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was needed.

"Neville, where are you going?" Harry asked, scowling as Neville was about to leave the table without taking a single bite of food.

"I, uh, I'll be right back," Neville blushed, his heart now pounding in his chest. He felt his mouth go dry as he manoeuvred around the Gryffindor table and started towards the Slytherin. He knew his whole house was watching him and now the Slytherin table was starting to notice him walking over. He didn't dare look at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but judging by the odd whispers he gathered he had piqued their curiosity too. He tried to focus on just Graces' face. She was frowning and kept shifting her eyes around the hall, clearly at a loss as to what he was doing.

"M-Malf-Gra-Malfoy," Neville decided, for once glad that he ended up a blubbering idiot when nervous. "Could—may I have a word?"

"Now?" Graces asked looking around at everyone staring. "What's this about?"

Neville inwardly groaned that Graces hadn't started off angrily. He thought for sure she would have been more rude to him from the beginning, especially when he'd told her to be in a very Malfoy mood, but the blonde wasn't rude. Unsettled, yes. Rude, impatient or even irritated, no.

"I, uh, it's private," he blushed, praying that she would remember what he asked. "Could we speak in private?" Graces continued to just frown up at Neville in confusion. They had spoke just yesterday about not being seen any longer together and here he was asking to speak with her alone while she was at her house's table. She tried to not get upset with him. She was sure that whatever it was Neville wanted to discuss with her was important. He wouldn't have came over here if it wasn't, but still she just couldn't go and speak with him in private.

"Longbottom," Graces said patiently meeting Neville's eyes and hoping he would understand. "I'm sure whatever it is you need to ask me can wait until Herbology," she said pointedly. "I'll speak with you then."

Graces felt a sense of relief as Neville nodded awkwardly and turned away.

"That was odd," Pansy noted, sneering in the direction of Neville. "What do you think he wanted?"

"Probably just a question about something we went over yesterday," Graces sighed rolling her eyes as though she were exasperated with tutoring him.

"I somehow doubt that," Blaise breathed, his eyes trained on Neville walking back.

Graces frowned and was about to ask why he doubted that when to her horror she heard Neville shout over to her: "Wouldyouwanttogooutsometime?"

There was a ringing silence that settled around them. It was the kind of silence you would imagine if all air was sucked out of a room. Graces felt her heart populating in her chest and her mouth had become dry.

"Wh-what?"

Neville looked around nervously at everyone staring at him, before walking back over to her table and asking her if they could go out.

Everyone was staring at them. Her whole house, his house and all the other houses were staring at them. What could Neville possibly be thinking? Did he actually expect her to be able to say yes? Was this his sick idea of trying to unify them all together? Was—

Suddenly it all clicked and Graces stared at Neville and knew exactly what to do. This was his way of ensuring people didn't catch on. He was going to play the lovesick fool for her. Graces wished he would have told her. If he had told her what he planned she would have insisted on finding another way, a way that didn't involve her humiliating him in front of the whole school. A way that wouldn't cost him his friends.

_It's done. You have to now. It's done._ Graces felt sick and looked down at the table for a moment to gather herself, before looking back up at Neville darkly.

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"Hermione!"

"What?" Hermione snapped, looking up at Ron from her book angrily.

"Get your nose out of that book and look!"

It took Hermione a moment to realize that the whole of the hall had gone silent, but it didn't take her long at all to see the reason for why. Neville was standing between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw table shaking like a leaf and staring over at Graces Malfoy who inturn was staring completely flabbergasted at him.

"Wh-what?"

"I asked if you would like to go out with me sometime," Neville repeated, walking over to the blonde hopefully. Hermione stood from her chair as Graces continued to say nothing, just sat there looking as though she had been badly confunded. It was obvious the blonde could not believe that Neville would have to audacity to ask her out and she was slowly wrapping her mind around it.

"Oh, no," Hermione groaned, watching as Graces' face turned from utter confusion to fury.

"You can't be serious," Graces deadpanned.

"I-I just thought since we were getting along so well in Herbology and tutoring that—"

"Get along?" Graces repeated in disgust. "We don't get along. I tolerate you. My gods, Longbottom are you so pathetic that if a girl so much as stands to be in your presence you fall for her?"

Neville didn't say anything, he just blushed and looked around the room awkwardly.

"You can't honestly think that I would want to go on a date with you," Graces scoffed. "I mean look at me. Look at you!"

Hermione strained to hear what Neville was saying, but couldn't. It didn't seem as though he were saying any string of words that made sense though, judging by the way the other Slytherins had started laughing. She was sure Neville was becoming tongue tied and felt a hook snag the inside of her stomach as Graces stood up from her seat.

"Cat got your tongue?" Graces challenged, raising a finely shaped eyebrow. Neville stopped trying to say anything and looked down.

"Why on earth would I want to go on a date with _you_?" Graces asked in all seriousness. "I mean you're not powerful, rich, smart—"

"Because he's a good man!" Hermione shouted angrily, unable to watch this cruelty any longer. Now the eyes of the hall had fallen on her. The bushy haired girl could feel her cheeks pinking at the attention, but she forced herself to ignore her feeling of shyness and instead strode across the hall to stand at her friends side. "Because he's caring and thoughtful. And treats people with decency and respect!"

Hermione could feel her whole body vibrating as Graces sized her up. The blonde clearly wasn't expecting anyone to come over and Hermione turned her chin up proudly as Graces' cold gray eyes locked on her own.

"Well, if you think so highly of him why don't you two go at it," Graces smirked. Hermione blushed, but didn't move away from Neville's side. "Oh, that's right," Graces nodded, pretending to remember something. "You only go for famous blokes. Like Viktor Krum or Potter. What was it that Rita Skeeter said about you? Oh, yes that—"

"You're a wicked thing," Hermione spat, moving her arms so that they were tight around Neville's arm. "I have no idea why Neville would want to go out with you. You are a heartless, cruel, evil, miserable excuse for a human being and—"

Hermione yelped with pain as her tongue felt as though it had been stabbed with a red hot iron.

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Thomas stood proudly on top of the table, he hadn't even let his wand hand down after sending the hex. He glared at the mudblood as she stared up at him tearfully from the palms of her hand. If he didn't care about people knowing about his speech impediment he would have dared her to say another thing to Graces. Dared her to call her heartless again, so that he could rip her fucking tongue out from her mouth!

Neville, after making sure Hermione was okay, made a move towards him and Thomas was just about to send the same jinx at him when Graces stepped between the two of them her wand out to Neville's chest.

"Don't," she ordered firmly. Thomas scowled at Neville's reaction. He looked... betrayed. Like he didn't expect Graces to pull her wand on him. Thomas wondered if Neville thought just because he helped her when she was hurt that she would all of the sudden change her feelings towards him. Maybe that is why he did this whole endeavor. Maybe that's why he was so shocked to have her wand against his chest.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" McGonagall bellowed from the head of the Hall. The older woman silently berated herself for not stepping in sooner. She should have interrupted the moment Graces began behaving callously towards Neville. She had thought that it would end there, that this was a matter that should be left between the two of them. She didn't particularly like the idea of becoming involved in students' affairs and yet she should have known when Hermione joined in that wands would be taken out.

"Detention tonight, Higgs," she informed, snapping her fingers angrily for the younger boy to step down from the table he was standing on. The younger Slytherin lazily hopped off, not the least bit contrite for his actions. "We will discuss further punishment then for your actions against Miss Granger."

Thomas rolled his eyes and turned back to his breakfast. Mcgonagall made a note to ensure his punishment was creative enough to elicit more of a reaction, before turning to Graces, Neville and Hermione.

"Miss Granger, let me take a look."

"It's fine now, Professor," Hermione reassured. "I think it was a tongue snapping jinx, nothing more. It just stung."

Mcgonagall tightened her lips at this, but nodded before turning towards Graces.

"I can't imagine you have anything to say to me," Graces quipped, not allowing her to even get out a word. "This is private. Exceptionally so, and it's not my fault Longbottom chose to ask me out in front of the whole school."

"That may be," the older Gryffindor proceeded carefully. "but that does not excuse your complete lack of compassion. Five points will be taken from Slytherin for lack of tact. I am hoping that in the future you will remember this, Miss Malfoy. It takes a lot of courage to tell someone your feelings. The gracious thing to do is politely decline if you don't feel the same. Cruelty is easy. Every person has the ability to be cruel. It's in our nature. But grace... grace, Miss Malfoy, is an accomplishment."

Graces gritted her jaw from making a retort and reminded herself that this was all staged and she didn't need to feel bad. Neville was doing a good job of looking dejected, though. She was silently impressed by his acting skills. Then again he could actually be feeling bad, judging by the way he looking over at Hermione. He clearly did not expect her to join him.

"Mr. Longbottom," McGonagall started out, clearly at a loss for what she should do. "Why don't you come with me."

Neville shifted where he stood, his neck and cheeks turning almost purple from embarrassment, but he nodded quietly and turned towards the door of the Great Hall. He had wanted this to be public, but he had not wanted teachers involved. He thought Graces would humiliate him and he would practically run out of the hall and that would be the end. Now he was going to have to talk with his head of house about his _feelings_. And not just any feelings feelings he had for a girl.

Hermione had seemed to decide she should stay with him and followed him out as well. Neville could barely look at her. It was all a lie and Hermione had no clue. Here she was being an amazing friend and what was her thanks? A hex and lies. Neville moved his hand away as Hermione reached for it. He didn't want her comfort, in fact the more she looked at him with those sad sympathetic eyes the more he felt like he was going to be sick.

Professor McGonagall was now leading the two of them to her office and Neville could feel the eyes of other students leaving the hall on his neck. By the time they got into the office he was actually grateful to be away from the rest of the student body.

"Well, I can't say I was expecting any of that," Professor McGonagall sighed sitting down in her chair, gesturing for Neville and Hermione to take a seat. Neville blushed and stared at an odd contraption in the corner. The tension in the room was so high Neville could cut it with a knife. No one seemed to know what to say. Hermione kept opening her mouth just to close it last minute, and his head of house just continued to stare at him. As though the answer of what she should say to him was going to appear on his skin.

"Neville, you've grown into a fine young man." Professor McGonagall proclaimed almost viciously. "A very fine one if I do say. You're kind, hard working, righteous and if I do say, based on last year's escapade, exceptionally brave and loyal." Neville went rigid and tried to push away the impulse to bury his face in his hands. "And if Miss Malfoy can't appreciate that then she doesn't deserve your... well, your affections."

McGonagall was now the one blushing. Her lips were pinched together tightly and she seemed to be all of the sudden very interested in the way her dress was sitting on her lap.

"Thanks, professor," Neville murmured softly. McGonagall looked as though she were going to say more, but before she got a chance Neville asked to be excused to go to Herbology.

"Maybe it's best you are excused for today," Hermione broke in, looking over to McGonagall. "He-he partners with her in Herbology."

"No, it's fine," Neville sighed. "I'll have to face her eventually..."

"But eventually doesn't have to be today," Hermione pressed, standing up from her chair.

"I agree with Miss Granger," the professor broke in solemnly. "Neville, I would understand if you needed time to yourself for the beginning of the day. Time to gather yourself emotionally and—"

"I really appreciate that. And-and that's very generous of your, Professor, but I want to go to class," Neville insisted, hurrying towards the door. "Thanks, really thanks, but-but I don't need to be coddled. I mean, well, you don't usually excuse students when they are turned down, do you?" Neville pointed out offering a small smile as he tried to make light of the situation. "It's just a part of life."

"Miss Granger, why don't you head over to class. Let Professor Sprout know that Neville will be late," the older woman instructed sending a glance to Hermione who nodded and got up from her seat. She gave Neville a small squeeze on his arm as she passed him, silently giving him her support before leaving the room.

"Neville," the older woman breathed. "Sit back down. I want to talk to you." Neville did as he was told, but felt even more discomfort than before. His head of house had never been the type to sit him down like this. If anything she was much like his gran in a lot of matters... discussion of feelings being one of them.

"There is no greater pain than the ache of a heart," McGonagall started gently, her own mind seeming to be wondering though memories. "I don't want you to feel like this is something you need to ignore, just because you have no physical wounds."

Neville blushed uncomfortably and tried to figure out if he should thank his professor for her kind words or just nod. There really wasn't a book of etiquette for these things and in the end he ended up shrugging and nodding at the same time. Professor McGonagall just kept looking at him sympathetically, making Neville feel an assortment of guilt.

"What Miss Malfoy said to you was incredibly cruel," Professor McGonagall murmured after a while breaking the awkward silence. "And I hope you realize it says more about her than it does about you."

"She's not that bad," Neville defended. "She—I just caught her off guard. I don't think she would have been nearly as hostile if I asked her out alone."

Neville could tell that Professor McGonagall didn't agree with his chain of thinking, but she was kind enough not to argue.

"I just don't want you to stew in one girl's heartless words or think that you have to put up a brave front and pretend it didn't happen. If you need the morning, take it."

"Thanks," Neville nodded, "but really I'm fine. I, uh, wasn't expecting it to go so well, just thought I'd take a chance," he added softly. Hid head of house just nodded and Neville had a suspicion she was about to offer him some tea, but before she could he quickly asked if he could go.

He left McGonagall's office almost at a sprint. In the back of his mind he reminded himself that he was going to have a lot of awkward encounters today, and some rather nasty ones. He still didn't know how his roommates were going to take this. Or how Draco would take it. He had been absent from breakfast, and Neville had a feeling that when word got to the blonde he would have a rather nasty curse being sent at him.

He had just burst out of the castle doors and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Professor Sprout outside the greenhouse.

"Seriously," Neville groaned, turning back to the castle doors and wondering if he should hightail it back to the tower and avoid Herbology after all. _Hermione probably told her you would be in class, that opportunity is gone..._ With that thought Neville began trudging towards the greenhouse.

"Professor," Neville greeted bowing his head and gripping his satchel tightly. "Uh, isn't class about to start?"

"Oh, yes, but I just thought, after this morning that I should talk to you," Sprout explained, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Professor. I appreciate it, but my head of house and I had a talk. I feel fine, I can assure you." Neville moved towards the door, but the plump woman stopped him.

"Listen, Neville, if you need to switch partners I understand. I've already spoken to Miss Granger and Abbott and the two of them are willing to switch with you. Now, I realize things between you and Hannah still aren't right."

Neville frowned and looked up at the older witch, unsure of how she could possibly know so much about his personal affairs.

"The fat friar," the older woman explained, offering a coy smile. "He talks to the students of the house about their problems. He's a gentle soul. It's no wonder he joined the clergy. He always wants to help others. And he's so humorous, it really helps the students feel better when they are upset. After you and Hannah, well, didn't work out, he consoled her and I dare say they have quite the bond. Anyways, my point is he tells me often how my students are doing and well, based on that knowledge I think you should partner with Miss Granger."

"And leave Hannah with Malfoy?" Neville frowned thinking of her blood status.

"Hannah has tougher skin than you think," Professor Sprout said pointedly. "Unafraid of toil, remember?" Neville smiled softly and nodded. "You should talk to her," Professor Sprout sighed. "It isn't right that you two have fallen out like two were such good friends. I know she misses you."

Neville blushed awkwardly, but agreed to making an effort with Hannah before telling Sprout he didn't want another partner. The older woman tried to dissuade him from his decision, but Neville insisted he was fine. When he reentered the greenhouse, Hannah was already at his and Graces' desk. It seemed as though Hermione and her had both thought for sure that he would take the switch. With as much dignity as was possible in such situations he made his way over to his desk.

"Hannah," Neville whispered gently, "I-uh- I believe you're in my spot."

The Hufflepuff frowned for a moment, before muttering through the side of her mouth that she was fine with the switch. Neville watched as Graces hands clench and he knew she was worried. If he wasn't her partner in the class she would fail no doubt.

"Thanks, Hannah," Neville smiled sadly, "but I'll be fine. Really I will."

Hannah appraised him for a moment before nodding reluctantly and gathering her things.

"You know, I just don't get it," she whispered, her hands shaking from emotion. " _Her_. You wanted _her_."

"Hannah, I—"

"I'm nice," Hannah hissed. "I'm nice and caring. I may not look like a model, but I'm pretty enough and you-you—"

"For someone so nice and caring you are being especially inconsiderate now," Graces murmured from the corner of her mouth, still looking forward.

"Oh, so now you care about his feelings?" Hannah snapped.

"Or I am just really irritated by the sound of your blubbering," Graces shrugged.

"Do vile things ever stop coming out of your mouth?" Hannah asked, practically baring her teeth at Graces who actually seemed a bit surprised at the other girl's venom. Graces stared at her for a moment, her eyes drifting over to his for a brief second before she looked away.

"Hannah, come on," Neville groaned. "Please don't do this now."

Reluctantly Hannah stepped away from the desk. He could tell she was angry, but thankfully she didn't make a scene as she gathered her things and went to rejoin Hermione. Graces kept peeking over at him as he took his seat, a look of heavy guilt written all over her features. A few times she opened her mouth to say something only to shut it and fiddle with her quill.

"Longbottom," Graces whispered, her hands still tight on her quill as Neville took a seat next to her. "I—"

"Graces, if we are going to pull this off you need to look satisfied and I need to look heart sick."

"Right, I just—"

"Tonight," Neville nodded. "We can talk tonight."

Graces bit her lip at Neville's command, and a few times she looked like she was just going to try and talk to him anyways, but in the end she remained silent. Though, Neville wished she would have acted more cold about the situation, she behaved as though he wasn't there for the rest of class.

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Neville leaned against the outside wall of the castle. There was no way after the morning he had that he was going to go to lunch in the Great Hall. He would rather starve. The whispers were bearable. He didn't like them, but they could be easily ignored. Other things... well, other things were more painful, like the way Ernie glared scornfully at him as he left Herbology. Or Seamus avoiding him in Muggle Studies. None of his housemates seemed to want to look at him. They all hurried past him and a great amount of effort had been put into not sitting with him in class. He had passed Ron on his way out from the castle and the redhead looked like he would have murdered him if Hermione hadn't pulled him away.

Hermione was the only person who was staying beside and defending him through all this. She was by his side as soon as Herbology ended and sat with him during his next class when Seamus didn't sit with him. She walked him to his next class, not caring that it nearly made her late for hers. She was truly amazing. And she didn't bring up Graces once. It seemed as though she were trying desperately to distract him from her, which was nice. Only, the nicer Hermione was the more guilty he felt about everything that happened between the two of them, not to mention the whole lying aspect of it all.

He wasn't daft, he knew this was all going to happen. He didn't expect to do all of this and come out unscathed, but that didn't change the fact that it was hard being rejected by his friends. He knew that if they knew Graces they wouldn't feel this way. He wasn't shallow, but the unkind phrases coming from his friends stung.

"What kind of man do you think I am?" a dark voice whispered.

Neville looked up from his feet to see Draco standing in front of him, his nostrils flaring with rage.

"I just want to help. I'm not trying to help because I want anything from her. I just. Want. To. Help," Draco repeated the last phrase so venomously that Neville tried to take a step back even though he was already against the wall.

"Malfoy, I—"

"Don't you say another fucking word to me with your silver tongue!" Draco roared, grabbing him by his collar and slamming his head against the stone. "You know, I actually believed you. I really believed you could help her and not expect anything in return."

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Neville asked in disbelief. "I haven't asked her for anything!"

"Oh please," Draco snarled, throwing him from the wall into the grass. "Like you didn't think she would say yes to you asking her out just because you helped her. You manipulative son of a—"

Neville grabbed his wand from his robe and held it out in front of him threateningly as Draco whisked his own out.

"Draco," Neville said carefully, his own hand trembling as he prompted himself up on the ground. "Don't do this. You know that is far-fetched. Me asking her on a date is a far cry from trying to manipulate her into giving me something. Come on, Malfoy. Think about this. All I did was ask her to out out with me. You were well aware I fancied her, is it that surprising?"

"You know what she is going through!" Draco bellowed, moving a few steps so his wand was closer to Neville's chest. "You, unlike many others, actually know how incredibly fucked her situation is. You know she's vulnerable! You've seen her weak and frightened and you think asking her out isn't manipulative? You think asking out girl who is so... so... lost is appropriate?"

Neville didn't say anything.

"I know my sister," Draco proclaimed, his voice vibrating with emotion. "And I know that when she's upset she does stupid things. She would do anything to feel better for a moment. It's why she likes having your attention, why she eats candy like some people drink water. If you had caught her alone, in a moment of weakness, she..." Draco didn't finish his sentence, and Neville watched as the boy above him closed his eyes to gather himself. "Let me make this clear to you, Longbottom. If I catch you near my sister I will kill you. You keep away from her."

"Draco," Neville tried, sitting up more from the ground. "It's not like that, I—"

"Don't you dare 'Draco' me. Just because you helped my sister does not mean we are familiar," Draco spat contemptuously. "I'm not going to kill you, because you were a help to us. But mark my words, Longbottom. I am not going to let my sister be taken advantage of. You will keep away from her. This is your only warning."

Neville, deciding that it was best not to argue with an on-edge, sleep-deprived wizard, nodded. He had thought he was in the clear when Draco sneered and turned to walk away, but just as he lowered his wand the blonde turned around and kicked him abruptly between his legs knocking the wind clear out of him.

"I'm serious, Longbottom. Keep. Away. From. My. Sister."

Neville nodded and tried to breath through the nausea that had overtaken him as the horrific ache resonated up through his abdomen. One thought did come to him as the pain faded and he was finally able to sit up. The rest of the day should be cake in comparison to that.

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Neville sat hidden in Greenhouse One. He tucked himself away behind as much greenery as he could find and laid on a bag of soil. Curfew was coming up and he knew he would be forced to head back to the tower before he could sneak out later that night. He didn't know how he was going to handle being around Ron, Harry, Seamus and Dean though.

_Or rather how they will handle being around me._

His whole day everyone just avoided him. Some of the girls offered him sympathetic nods, but his housemates all just avoided him, except Ron who had to be held back from screaming at him in the halls. He thought after lunch it all would have cooled down a bit, but the moment he sat for dinner they all had cleared away. Ginny and Hermione came over to sit with him, but he couldn't bring himself to eat anything and ended up leaving before anyone else.

He now had a glimpse of what it would be like if he and Graces were actually together. They would have no support. They would lose countless friends and family. No one would look at the pair of them and see anything whole and good. They would see something unnatural. It was a hard potion to swallow, that peoples hate could run so deep, that their world was so split that this was the reality.

Once again Graces was right.

Neville forced himself to get up and head towards the tower. He didn't have to pretend to be dejected anymore, because he was. He was so sad. For a multitude of reasons, he was sad. His friends weren't speaking to him. Everyone was talking about him. Draco thought he was trying to take advantage of his sister, and everyone thought he was shallow. No one saw any admirable quality in Graces other than her looks and money. It made him sick. No one in his house could look past her name and see how smart and talented she was.

Neville did, though. He was proud that he was in love with Graces. He would tell the world how amazing she was if he could. He would scream it from the mountains if given the opportunity. She was amazing. She was more than a pretty face. And while she had many bad qualities she had just as many good.

"Where have you been?" Seamus called out moving from his bed to stand as Neville entered the room. "We've been waiting for you for hours."

"You know where he's been," Ron muttered irritatedly. "Avoiding us like a coward."

"You lot have been avoiding me all day," Neville pointed out unapologetically as he took his coat off and hung it by his bed. "I just figured I would make it easier for you."

"Don't you try to turn this around on us! We're not the ones that—"

"Ron, calm down," Harry pleaded, putting a hand on his friends shoulder and trying to dissuade him from stepping forward.

"No!" Ron cried outraged. "How dare he act like we aren't being good friends when he... when he—"

"Liked a girl and asked her out?" Neville summarized, his face not giving any hint that Ron's accusations bothered him.

"The enemy! You liked the enemy and asked the enemy out!"

"She's not the enemy," Neville scoffed. "She's a sixteen year old girl."

"She is too!" Ron argued, ignoring everyone else's pleas for him to calm down. "She's Lucius Malfoy's daughter!"

"She is a pretty girl," Dean defended, obviously trying to get this all in a direction where they could talk.

"Stop discounting my feelings for her!" Neville cried. "It's not because she's pretty! You don't know her! None of you know her!"

"Oh, and you do?" Ron scoffed.

"I think we all just need to calm down," Harry stated, clearly becoming uneasy with the amount of hostility in the room "We can't just punish someone for their feelings. Neville didn't mean to like her, he just does and I'm sure he has his reasons, even if they are that she's pretty. Come on, Ron, be reasonable. We all talked about this."

"We have a right to be upset Harry," Dean voiced. "Yeah, we know these things happen, but he didn't tell us. He doesn't tell us anything anymore. Hell, getting an evening with him is difficult and—"

"He lied!" Ron finished. "You lied! You lied to all of us. For Gods know how long about your feelings concerning her. You never told any of us anything. Whenever we asked how tutoring was you just said it was fine. You could have told us countless times and you never did. Which makes me wonder what else do you not tell us, Neville? Because based off last years incident at St. Mungos and this it seems you are very capable of holding secrets."

"You know what? I'm done," Neville rasped over the lump in his throat, staring at Ron. "I can't believe you would even bring that up."

Neville was fighting a great battle in himself to not cry. The lump in his throat physically ached and his eyes were burning.

"Neville, listen. Ron just feels betrayed and—"

"None of you have any right to feel betrayed," Neville bit out. "Who I choose to give my affections to is _my business_. I don't tell you lot who you should love. Don't tell me!"

"Love?" Seamus gasped. "Oh, Jesus, Neville. You don't actually love her."

"You're just infatuated with her," Dean offered.

Neville made some sound between exasperation and frustration and began to head towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Dean called out as Neville swung the door open.

"I don't know! But I sure as hell can't sleep here!"

"Fine," Ron shouted. "Go then! Run to the dungeons and see if they want you! Go join the other snakes!"

Neville whirled around to say something about Ron's ridiculous prejudice against Slytherins, but, right as he turned the corner, the edge of a book that Ron had flung at the back of his head caught his left eye and cheek. Neville let out of very elaborate string of curses as he cradled the left side of his face. He had a feeling Ron hadn't meant to hit him in the eye, just in his back for leaving, but he couldn't seem to bury the anger he was feeling towards him at the moment. He looked up from the palms of his hands and glared at Ron, practically shaking with his own fury.

"You all say you want me to be honest," Neville whispered darkly, angry tears brimming out of his eyes. The whole room was silent, Ron's anger had seemed to diminish after he pelted Neville in the face and the other boys were all standing around as though they didn't know when things got so out of control. "Well, I was pretty honest this morning. I didn't hide that I was asking her out. I asked her out right there in front of everyone and this is how you all have reacted. Either I was ignored, yelled at or dismissed as shallow. No one has even tried asking me why I liked her or tried to understand how I was feeling." Neville turned and left. Slamming the door behind him.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Oh my Gods," Graces gasped, covering her mouth as she entered the barn and saw Neville. "Your eye! Longbottom! What—who?"

"Don't worry about it," Neville dismissed, standing up from the stool he was sitting on and coming over to her. "It's nothing."

"How can you say it's nothing?" Graces screeched, reaching up and examining it while Neville wrapped his arms around her. Neville hissed in pain when Graces accidently poked him in the eye. "Oh, Merlin. I'm so sorry," Graces hiccuped, moving her hands away. Losing her own eye had taken her depth perception. She folded her hands under her chin and didn't dare examine Neville's eye any further, scared now that she would do a great deal of damage.

"Don't cry," Neville shushed, pulling her closer to him so she could nestle her head against his chest.

"I scratched your eye," Graces moaned, the day all coming to a crash on her. "I scratched your eye and made it worse."

"You didn't make anything worse," Neville promised kissing the top of her head. "As a matter of fact you're making things a whole lot better right now."

Graces felt her throat tighten as Neville held her tightly.

"You didn't have to do this for me," she rasped moving away from him. "I never wanted this."

"I know I didn't have to," Neville said patiently. "I wanted to. It took care of everything you were worried about."

"No, there could have been another way," Graces stomped. "A way that didn't come at your expense. You shouldn't be losing friends for us. It isn't right!"

"If I lose friends over this, then they weren't very good friends to begin with."

"You don't mean that!"

"I _do_ mean that," Neville stated evenly, meeting her silver eyes with his brown.

Graces held her breath and looked down, afraid of everything that was stirring in her.

"I didn't want to do that," she finally admitted, tears pouring down her face. " _I_ didn't want to do that. How could you do that without asking me?"

"Graces," Neville frowned. "I—"

"No! I didn't want to say those things to you," Graces stomped. "I didn't want to say those things!"

"I know you didn't," Neville breathed, moving forward and taking her hands. "I know." Graces bit her lip to keep her jaw from vibrating and tried to take a deep breath after a few moments. "Graces, don't cry. Please don't cry."

"How can I not cry?" the blonde trembled. "You're too good for this, Longbottom. You are. You do deserve better. You deserve someone that can actually say yes to you when you ask them out. I know that's what you want. I know you wish you and I could—"

"Hey, hey," Neville interjected, reaffirming his hold on her hands. "I want you. I want you and that is it. I don't care about anything else. I want you."

"But you don't even really have me!" Graces argued, pulling away. "I'm not your girlfriend. I'm never going to be. This. This right here is all I will ever be able to give you. I'm never going to be able to give you what you need. I can't. I have my family and—"

"Graces, stop. I need you to stop and listen," Neville ordered, taking Graces by the hand and having her sit on a wooden bench with him. "I am never going to ask you to choose between me and your family, not now, not ever. What we have, right now in this moment, is more than enough for me."

Graces hiccuped a sob and looked away She couldn't see how this was good enough for Neville. Now they weren't even having sex. She imagined he wouldn't want to stick around long. His friends hated him, the school was talking about him and he wasn't getting anything.

"Whatever you're thinking I want you to stop thinking it right now, Graces," Neville demanded, an edge to his voice.

"I'm not thinking anything."

"You're a poor liar."

"I'm actually a very good liar," Graces said sadly looking up at him. "You just have the ability to tell when I'm lying." Neville gave a soft chuckle, but didn't deny his ability. "I don't see how this is enough for you," Graces continued. "I don't see how, today of all days, you can still say this is what you want. Didn't you hear what people were saying? Do you know what your friends think of you now?"

"I don't care what people think of me," Neville said. "I care about you. They can think whatever they want of me. They can go on calling me a shallow idiot. I know the truth. There is nothing shallow about my feelings for you. They don't know you like I do. They don't know the girl that rants about hay or who has a sugar tooth that could take on Honey Dukes. They don't know about how playful you are or that you get pouty if you don't get your way."

Neville paused for a moment. "They don't know the girl that planned a funeral or the girl that held a boy when he lost everything. They don't know the girl that was willing to sacrifice her entire education to raise a child she had no obligation to. They don't know the one that almost gave her life for someone else," Neville whispered softly, placing his warm hand on her damp cheek. "I don't care what people think of me. If anything I'm angry that they don't know how truly amazing you are, that they see you as only a pretty face with money. That's the only thing I care about. I don't feel ashamed in the slightest of my feelings for you."

"Such pretty words," Graces whispered turning away and wiping her eyes, unwilling to allow herself to hope all of that was true, that Neville could really feel that way.

"They're only pretty because they speak to you," Neville said gently, turning her chin back to him. "They're pretty because they have meaning, Graces. And they have meaning because I'm being sincere. Why is it so hard to believe that this is enough for me, that what I did today was a sacrifice worth making?"

"I don't know," Graces hiccuped. "B-because they're your friends and—"

"You're my friend," Neville interjected. "You're actually my best friend. I've never been close with anyone the way I'm close with you."

Graces wasn't sure if she should be happy or sad about Neville's announcement. There was definitely something wrong about the fact that she was the closest thing Neville ever had to a best friend, and yet at the same time she felt strangely the same way.

"You're my best friend too," she confessed, unable to not smile at how happy Neville looked at her declaration. "Merlin, aren't we a pair," Graces scoffed, looking up to the heavens. "Who would have ever thought."

"Me," Neville grinned, leaning in close and kissing her softly on the lips. "I would have thought it."

"You don't count," Graces giggled, moving her arms around Neville's neck and grinning against his lips. "You're mad."

"Just for you," Neville whispered brushing his lips against hers. Graces closed her eyes and let herself live in Neville's warm arms and kiss. She continued to keep her eyes closed as they broke apart and shivered as she felt Neville's thumb caress her cheek. She just wanted to stay here with him. She rested her forehead on his and wished things didn't have to be so hard.

"I really am sorry about your eye," Graces whispered, biting her lip.

"It's okay," Neville chuckled.

"I have some cream that will take care of it. I can go get it from my Quidditch locker," Graces offered, standing up as though she were going to go get it.

"No, honestly I'm fine. Trust me, this isn't even the worst of my injuries for the day."

"What was your worst injury?" Graces asked, her eyes reviewing Neville up and down for signs of trauma.

"Your brother kicking me in the jewels."

"He didn't," Graces gasped.

"Oh, he most certainly did."

"Well, uh, is everything okay?" Graces asked hesitantly, eyeing the area of his trousers.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Neville blushed, shifting slightly from Graces' gaze.

"How hard did he kick you?"

"Not hard."

Graces could tell Neville was lying, and moved her hands to his belt so that she could look herself.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing there?"

"I just want to make sure that—"

"Uh, you're not going to make sure of anything, thankyouverymuch," Neville proclaimed, his voice a bit higher than usual. "I don't want you inspecting my, well, my parts."

"Why not? I've seen it."

"Trust me, Graces, I'm fine," Neville insisted. "It's fine. Hurt like nothing else earlier, but I'm fine now. Do me a favor though and under no circumstances tell your brother I slept with you. I hate to think what he would do to 'him' if he knew."

"Cut it off," Graces shrugged. "He was ranting in the dungeons about you asking me out. He said if you so much as touched me he was going to petrify you and cut it off with a blunt dagger."

"Seriously?" Neville gulped, all the color draining from his face.

"He's just in a mood," Graces scoffed. "Draco likes to talk."

"Easy for you to say," Neville blurted out. "You're not the one who would be losing something."

"I most definitely would be losing something," Graces smiled. "I like him too."

Neville blushed a shade close to purple at Graces comment, but Graces could tell he was quite pleased.

"I, uh, not to be pushy or anything," Neville said hurriedly, "But I was uh wondering when you will be all healed."

"The middle of February," Graces said quietly, tucking back her hair so that it was behind her ear. "It's a weekly salve, and it takes a while for it to work. It's slow, but by the middle of February it will be as though nothing happened," she added quickly, after seeing Neville's face. "I'll be good as new."

"Swell," Neville nodded, taking pacing a few steps and burying his hands in his pockets and pursing his lips tightly.

"We could still," Graces shrugged in replacement for the word. "I just would rather keep my shirt on. A lot of times I keep it on anyway," she pointed out, becoming, if possible, more uncomfortable.

"It's not important," Neville promised, taking a seat beside her and kissing her hand. "I wish you trusted that it wouldn't bother me, but I would rather wait till you feel comfortable with yourself."

"Thanks," Graces murmured, staring at Neville's hand holding hers.

"Graces," Neville began hesitantly. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What?"

"It's about your _situation_." The blonde stiffened, but didn't look away. "If Draco fails—"

"He won't fail."

"Right, but if he does—"

"He won't."

"But—"

"Longbottom, he isn't going to fail!" Graces shrieked, moving her hand away. "Stop saying that."

Neville bit the inside of his cheek and Graces could tell that this conversation was far from over.

"I know you won't tell me what it is he has to do," Neville said patiently, folding his hands in his lap and looking down. "And I know Draco has to succeed, but if he doesn't OR if he decides he doesn't want to do any of this I want to offer you something."

Graces frowned at Neville's words, but sat still as Neville took a few papers from his pocket.

"This is one of our estates," Neville explained handing Graces the blueprints. "It's five bedrooms and I had the cellar stocked with necessities. There is already a Fidelius charm on it. I believe I mentioned to you once that the only one of the Longbottom estates without it is my gran's, and I'm the secret keeper for all of them. And now I am divulging the secret of this house to you."

Graces stared wide-eyed at the prints, unable to find her voice to speak.

"You will be safe here," Neville promised, lifting her chin so she was looking at him. "You, your mother, Draco, Thomas, his aunt and Octavian. You will all be safe here."

"I-I don't know what to say," Graces breathed, her hands trembling.

"Say you will go. Say you will go now. Get out of here, get away from this war." Neville took her hands once again and held them steady. "You will never be hurt again, Graces. You can leave and avoid this whole war. All of you."

Graces looked back down at the prints, unsure whether to believe what was on the paper. This was a safe house. Neville was giving her and her family a safe house.

"This is too much," Graces whispered. "I can't take your house."

"You're not taking my house," Neville laughed. "You're going to live in it. And it should be that way. No one lives in this house now, it's just sitting there. You and your family can use it and you should. You can all be safe here. And look this whole acre is under the charm. So there will be plenty of sunshine for Octavian. I know he's just a baby, but the outside would do you all good, wouldn't want anyone going stir crazy. There's even a small pond over here."

There was. There was a pond and an acre, but most importantly there was hope in this. They could all be safe. It wasn't possible for her and Draco to do this before. Fidelius charms required a secret keeper which they didn't have. They couldn't have used any of the Malfoy estates because it would have been easy for someone to get a listing of them and then have the information to get there. Even buying a new home would have left a paper trail.

There was no trail in this. No one knew of her and Neville's relationship. No one would think he was hiding them all. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to say yes right then and there and go into the castle and get Draco and Thomas. They could each go home get the others and leave tonight. This would all be over. But...

"What about my father?' Graces thought a loud. "They'll kill him if we left now."

"Graces," Neville frowned. "Your father is in Azkaban. There's no way that—"

"My mother wouldn't leave without my father," Graces informed, her voice tight.

"Graces, you will all be safe here. No one would find you. No one would even be able to trace you here. I know you love your father, but this is a chance for you all to—"

"No, we can't just leave my father," Graces rasped, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. "My mother won't go without him, Draco won't go without her and I won't go without Draco. I can't take this. There's still a chance I could have my whole family. I can't be a coward and just run away."

"Run away? Graces, it's not like that. It's—"

"It would sacrifice my father."

"I think your father would gladly give his life if it meant his family was safe," Neville pointed out evenly.

"I've asked to run away before," Graces hiccuped. "I begged Draco to take our money and run away. He wouldn't. He said he has to do this. He wants to save us all. He doesn't want to live in fear for years. He believes if he accomplishes this task we will have no sacrifice, so he has to at least try. He won't go."

"And I don't want to be a coward either," Graces sniffed. "I don't want to sacrifice my father. I love him. I know... I know he may be a bad man, but he's a good father and it would break my heart if he died."

"Then this is for when Draco fails," Neville insisted desperately. "You don't have to go now, but go then. I think we can both agree that at that point you're not sacrificing anyone."

Graces tried to think of another reason not to take Neville's offer and couldn't. It really was a plan. For the first times in months she didn't have to think of dying. No matter what happened she and Draco could live. They all could live. She felt the weight lift off her and could hardly stand the feeling of solace that washed over her.

"I'll never be able to repay you for this," she choked, tears of mirth glistening out of her eyes. "You really will hide us?"

"I will."

"Draco's going to live," Graces whispered, closing her eyes. "No matter if he fails or not he's going to live."

"He will."

It probably wasn't the reaction Neville had been hoping for, but for the rest of the night Graces cried. She wept endless tears of happiness and any time she opened her mouth to try and properly thank Neville words became caught in emotion. Words were silly and meaningless anyways. A simple 'thank you' wouldn't suffice. Nothing would. Her brother was going to live. No longer was there a plan to just save her, now there was a plan to save him.


	55. Chapter 55

Draco stared glassy-eyed at the taps in the shower as he tried to muster up energy to turn them on. He was so tired. He had never in his life been as tired as he was right now. Night and day he worked on his project. He barely ate and he sure as hell didn't sleep. His mind started to blur his day together and he didn't stop working until he was so tired that the world no longer made sense. He felt like he was drunk without the added benefit of being relaxed.

He wanted to go to sleep, but at the same time he wanted to shower. It had been almost a week. His skin and hair were so oily that his eyes burned from it. He didn't know how Snape could stand this feeling day in and day out. He felt nauseated being this dirty. It made it so he couldn't even sleep well because he ended up obsessing over how gross he was.

He was just about to give up on his notion of being cleansed when the taps turned on. The shock of the water woke Draco out of his zombie-like state and he looked around the shower to see who it was that had aided him.

"Hello, Myrtle," Draco smiled after a few moments.

The young ghost sheepishly emerged from the ceiling above him. Draco offered her a small smile through the cascading water them before he started washing the days away. He was aware that Myrtle was watching him. While before he may have been offended or disgusted, now he no longer cared.

Myrtle was odd and annoying, but she was also sad. She was the youngest ghost in Hogwarts. Not only had she died much too young, but she had died here in a place where the others like her were mature and from centuries before her. She had no one to relate to, no one that she could talk to day in and day out. She was at a standstill watching children her age socialize, learn, experience all life had to offer and then leave. It had to be lonely. And now that Draco realized he may share the same fate, that Graces may share it he couldn't find it in himself to be anything but friendly towards her. It's what he would want if it was Graces.

"You're not going to tell me to leave?" Myrtle asked hesitantly.

"Would you have actually left?" Draco asked skeptically, taking some soap and lathering it across his chest and neck. He let Myrtle's silence answer the question. "Exactly. I figured I would just save myself the breath."

There was a long silence and Draco wondered if Myrtle had maybe left. He took advantage of the quiet though to wash his hair. The water hadn't been adjusted to be warm, but he didn't care. The cold water seemed to be the only thing keeping him up and he didn't want to waste any energy on adjusting it to be comfortable.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

No," Draco laughed tiredly. "No girlfriend. I don't exactly have the time these days to be courting anyone." Draco peeked up at the ghost for a brief second before smiling at his toes. Myrtle seemed quite pleased with his answer. "What about you, Myrtle? Any men in your afterlife?"

"Don't tease me."

"I'm not teasing. I'm bantering," Draco corrected, turning around to get his back.

"Bantering," Myrtle repeated confused.

"Flirting," Draco clarified, looking up and winking. Draco had to hold his breath from laughing at Myrtle's expression. He had no idea ghosts could blush.

"You're not flirting with me," Myrtle grumbled, apparently seeing his smile.

"Myrtle, I am naked in the shower and talking to you," Draco pointed out patiently as he turned the taps off. "At this point everything I say to you that isn't telling you to get out is flirting."

"Why would you flirt with me?" Myrtle asked coyly, moving with Draco as he left the stall.

"I'm a bit of a tease," Draco admitted, taking a towel and covering his bottom half. "I like attention."

"A tease?"

"I like to tantalize girls."

"Oh," Myrtle breathed deflated.

"Only girls worth tantalizing," Draco added, not wanting to make Myrtle feel bad. It seemed to work, judging by the way Myrtle swirled down from the ceiling and sat on a bench while Draco finished drying off.

"You look tired," Myrtle commented, her translucent eyes staring at Draco's quicksilver.

"Tired doesn't even begin to describe it."

"Tomorrow's Saturday," Myrtle offered, indicating that he could sleep in.

"Today is Saturday," Draco yawned, now more tired as he realized it was almost four in the morning. "I have a lot to do. I can't sleep in. A few hours and I should be good."

"That's not healthy, sleep is for the living. You need it."

"If I don't do what needs to be done I won't be living," Draco whispered, grabbing his trousers and beginning to dress.

"Well, if that happens you could share my toilet with me."

"You don't think it's a bit too soon?" Draco grinned. "I mean moving in is a big step."

"You're teasing me again," Myrtle murmured, trying hard not to smile at Draco's humor.

"I am," Draco smiled.

"I don't mind when you tease me," Myrtle admitted coyly after a few moments of thinking. "You're not malicious."

"You don't know me," Draco chuckled.

"I know you well enough."

Draco decided not to correct Myrtle. He knew he could be an ass, but he decided not to be one tonight. Myrtle, though dead, still seemed to have a tremendous amount of feelings and these days he understood exactly what loneliness was like.

"Good night, Myrtle. I enjoyed our little chat."

"I enjoyed the show."

Draco looked back for a moment and raised an eyebrow at Myrtle's smug comment, before laughing himself and leaving. By the time he reached his dorm room he was ready to just lay in the doorway and sleep. He dragged his tired feet across the floor and flopped down on his bed. Only, to his surprise, he had flopped down on something hard. He sat up and realized someone was under his sheets already sleeping soundly.

_Graces,_ he thought tiredly, knowing she was the only person that wouldn't wake if something heavy came crashing down on her legs. He lifted the sheets and realized she had disillusioned herself so she wouldn't be seen. _Probably so she wouldn't be seen by Nott,_ Draco concluded bitterly. He looked over to Nott's bed and felt a shiver go through him when he realized the other boy wasn't there. Draco wondered what it was Nott was doing for their Lord and how close he was becoming to him.

He quietly made his sister visible and closed the curtains around his bed snuggling close to her. He wished she did this more often and yet he knew he couldn't ask her to. He didn't want her in this room with Nott around and he didn't want her to know how little he slept. If she came to sleep with him more she would know he didn't really sleep and the last thing he needed was Graces fussing over him.

No sooner had Draco closed his eyes was his alarm going off for him to return to his task. Two hours. He had only received two hours of sleep, it felt like two seconds. He reached over to silence the blasted golden clock, when Graces beat him to it. The blonde reached out a lazy hand and firmly held the clock until it was silenced, not even bothering to open her eyes.

"Go back to sleep, Draco," Graces murmured groggily from his pillow, her hair puffing out as from her face as she spoke.

"No, it's fine," Draco whispered. "I need to—"

"You need to sleep," Graces interrupted, throwing a leg over him to pin him down. "I know you only got back a few hours ago. As if I didn't notice you belly flopping on my legs. Honestly, Draco."

Draco flushed and started to remind his sister what was at stake should he not finish on time, but Graces just groaned and put her hand on his mouth silencing him.

"No more talking," Graces yawned. "Don't worry about the task. I have everything taken care of."

" _You_ have everything taken care of," Draco repeated in disbelief.

"I do," Graces yawned again, already seeming to be falling back to sleep.

"Do you care to explain?"

"I have a back up plan."

Draco, losing his patience with his very vague sister, jostled the blonde awake impatiently. Graces groaned and wrinkled her nose at him, but after a second good shove opened her eyes.

"You're so mean."

"And you're so annoying."

"See, you get crabby when you don't sleep enough," Graces pouted.

"Graces," Draco hissed. "Stop being a child and explain."

Graces stared at him for a few moments and Draco held his breath as her eyes turned more somber. She slowly sat up from the bed and told Draco to put a silencing charm around them. Draco frowned, but did as instructed.

"I have a safe house for us," Graces whispered, looking around the curtains as though she were scared to say all this out loud. "If you fail we are going to go. You, me, mum, Thomas, Octavian and Alethea. We are all going to go."

Draco tensed at his sister's words and just stared at her. She looked so sure. So insanely sure that this was a good plan that this would work.

"A safe house," Draco echoed skeptically.

"Yes," Graces nodded tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "A safe house. Untraceable to any of us. No one would know we were there. There is no trail."

"How?"

Graces bit her lip hesitantly before muttering that it was best he didn't know.

"I'm just supposed to trust that this plan is sound?" Draco asked in disbelief. "Without any idea of what you have planned?"

"Isn't that what you've asked from me?" Graces glowered. "I have no idea what you are doing and you won't tell me a thing or allow me to help. I've taken your word, Draco. You need to take mine. This is sound. We will be safe. We could be safe tonight!" Graces continued, an edge of desperation coming to her voice. "We could all leave tonight and be safe for this whole war."

"What about—"

"I know. I know what about father," Graces cut in. "It's the only reason I haven't asked to go now."

She had a point. Draco pursed his lips and tried hard not to tell Graces that what he asked was different than what she was asking now.

"You will live, Draco," Graces whispered, her hands coming into his and gripping them tight. "We will be together. Never apart. This plan will save the both of us."

"How though?" Draco whispered tightly, unable to believe without proof. "How did you acquire this house?"

"It doesn't matter," Graces pleaded. "I have it."

"It _does_ matter," Draco argued, taking his hands away. "Graces, it does matter. How did you get a house?"

Graces looked away from him and Draco for a brief moment felt as though there was something sinister afoot before she looked back at him despondently and answered.

"I told you I was saving. Putting money away from tutoring so we would have an escape plan."

"So you bought it?" Draco clarified.

"It's not under my name," Graces informed quickly. "I swear on my life, Draco, it's not traceable to us."

Draco opened his mouth to argue, but stopped as Graces hands went to his shoulder.

"I love you more than anything in this world," she rasped, tears coming to her eyes. "I would die for you. And I love mum, Thomas and Octavian as well. Do you think I would risk any of your lives? This is a fool proof plan, Draco. I swear."

Draco closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. She was asking him to trust her the same way she had trusted him. Without question. With complete faith. For some reason it was more difficult than he imagined it would be. He tried to remember a time when faith was easy and trust was natural. Another slow boil of anger came to him about his father. His whole life his faith had been wrapped up in an untrue god and now he was shaken to the core.

"Draco?"

"I trust you," he lied, not wanting to hurt his sister with his doubt. This was more now than just about her feeling safe, it had turned into a test of sorts of his confidence in her. "I'm just tired."

"Then lay down," Graces urged, slowly pulling him down onto the pillow with her.

Draco nodded and laid looking up at the ceiling.

"Why did you come here last night?" he asked after the quiet began to feel unsettling.

"I had a bad dream," Graces murmured, her breath tickling the hair near his ears. "I came here hoping to see you, but you weren't here."

"I'm sorry," Draco offered lamely. "What did you dream?"

"Don't worry about it. It was just a dream," Graces whispered, turning over and facing the other way. "Let's just go back to bed."

"No, I won't be able to sleep unless you tell me."

"Draco, it's just a silly dream and I don't want to relive it," Graces rasped, pulling the covers up over her shoulders to close herself off. Draco felt his heart sink at how small Graces sounded and moved closer to her, awkwardly wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his head near hers.

"I have bad dreams too," he admitted quietly, in a way thankful that he couldn't see Graces' face. "I dream about... about that night. The night when the muggle healer was here... I dream about when your heart stopped."

Draco wondered if Graces was holding her breath she became so still. After a moment she turned around so she was facing him, her face haunted by the memory of her death that she didn't have.

"I'm fine, Draco," she promised, her hand moving to his cheek. "It was all alright."

"You weren't there," Draco choked, turning his chin down. "You didn't see the worst of it. You didn't see the muggle's eyes when your heart stopped... when you stopped breathing. He didn't think he was going to be able to bring you back. He didn't say that, but I could tell by the look on his face and the way he kept talking to you, urging you to come back, urging you to fight."

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Graces whispered, her silver eyes searching out his. "I never wanted you to experience anything like that."

Draco gritted his teeth. Nothing could be done about it now. He had seen it and he had felt what it was like to lose her. He had died that night as well, and was only brought back to life when she woke up the next morning and started fighting the breathing tube. He let the memory of her brief death fuel him. When he was growing too tired to work, he thought of it. When he was becoming increasingly scared he thought of it.

"I don't want you thinking about that night," Graces urged, breaking Draco away from the memories.

"It's not like I like thinking about it," Draco huffed. "It's intrusive."

Graces was silent for a few moments and Draco internally fumed that telling her had been a stupid idea and then...

"I have similar dreams," she whispered meekly. "Only about you... if you fail."

"Well, you took care of that didn't you?" Draco whispered, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "If I fail we are going to go away and we will all be safe."

Draco didn't believe it. He was still convinced that he had to succeed in order for them all to live, but he could pretend he believed it. He could pretend to believe it so his sister wouldn't live her days riddled with worry and so there was a possibility she would sleep easier at night. To convince her of his sincere faith in her plan, he made himself more comfortable in the bed, stole a good chunk of blankets and went to sleep.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"He's so cute," Pansy cooed, leaning down from behind the sofa and peering at the tiny little one nestled on Graces' stomach.

"Isn't he though?" Graces smiled, making another silly face and lifting the child high in the air before bringing him back down. "I think he's going to be a seeker," she giggled, watching as Octavian smiled and reached his hand out to her face. "Yes you are! An amazing seeker!"

"H-he's g-going t-to s-spit up on y-you," Thomas warned, frowning over a million papers.

"No he won't," Graces scoffed, bringing Octavian down on her lips for a kiss before laying him back down on her stomach.

"He's such a happy baby," Pansy noted excitedly, ticking the child's feet and causing him to giggle. "When I have a baby I want one just as happy as Octavian. And just as pudgy too."

Thomas looked up from the paper he was writing and glanced at Octavian squirming around on Graces' torso. Graces sighed internally as she realized that Octavian hadn't grown a strong attachment for Thomas yet. He was attached to her. The moment Octavian caught sight of her coming down to the common room he smiled and cooed for her attention, but he had yet to have the same reaction for Thomas. It was still early and she was aware that after everything that had happened she had barely allowed Octavian out of her sight, but she still worried. Was only weekends enough?

"Thomas, I think you should take a break," Graces announced, sitting up from the sofa.

"I c-can't. Th-there's s-so m-much."

"Take a break, Thomas," Graces repeated, walking over to where the boy was. "Take a break, feed Octavian, play with him a little and then give him back to me when you feel a bit more refreshed."

"I d-don't s-see wh-why I ev-ven h-have to do th-this," Thomas groaned, taking Octavian. "I'm excused f-from th-this w-work."

"We already went over this," Graces tisked, giving him a look that dared him to argue with her. "You will do the work. It will help you in the long run and what helps you, helps Octavian." Thomas pursed his lips but nodded begrudgingly. "Also, don't think for one second about calling a house elf to feed him. He likes it when you do it."

"I know," Thomas muttered irritatedly. "He doesn't like magic with his nappies either."

"The squib doesn't use magic," Graces shrugged. "It's not surprising."

"He needs to be around m-magic m-more," Thomas whispered. "W-weekends aren't en-nough."

Graces didn't say anything to Thomas' statement, she watched as he continued to look down at Octavian deep in thought about what to do.

"M-mayb-be h-he sh-should s-spend m-more t-time w-with his g-grandp-parents."

"That would be nice," Graces said carefully. "But I think you should offer to have them at your place and only with your aunt present. I don't want them telling the courts that they are the child care provider. Offer it as an olive branch, like you are doing them a favor."

Thomas nodded and proceeded to take Octavian up the stairs to his room to feed him. Graces felt a little of her worry diminish as Thomas smudged up his face and tickled the little one's torso in an effort to make Octavian laugh, but she still felt that more could be done.

"I don't think you should ask him to do all this work," Pansy informed, looking at the piles and piles of paper. "It isn't right. He's suffered through a lot and-"

"It's a distraction," Graces quipped, placing the parchment down and looking at the next. "It's a distraction and it will only do him good. He won't be behind in class, he will look strong and it will teach him about responsibility."

"Octavian is teaching him about responsibility."

"Only two days a week when he gets him on the weekends," Graces pointed out. "I love Thomas. And while I would love to coddle him endlessly, I can't. Octavian will grow fast and Thomas needs to be a man long before he graduates Hogwarts."

"I just think—"

"Your opinion has been noted, Pansy," Graces dismissed, taking a quill and fixing a few errors in one of Thomas' essays.

Pansy seemed as though she wanted to argue, but the girl remained silent. Graces was silently glad that Pansy had never been raised to be confrontational. The other girl instead stood where the sofa was and picked at invisible lint, which was funny because the sofa was leather.

"Do you want to do something today?" Pansy asked after a while. "Like, something fun... We could even play Quidditch if you wanted."

Never in their friendship had Pansy offered to play Quidditch with her. Graces stared dumbfounded at her friend, unsure of even how to approach this.

_Why are you so surprised? Pansy is a good friend. Don't forget who did your makeup when you broke your arm, who is the first to mention your birthday coming up and who helped you use the loo just weeks ago when you couldn't get up and go yourself. She even cleaned you up. I think you're starting to look at her for how she treats Neville rather than how she treats you and it isn't right._

"I, uh, that's so nice, Pans, but my arm still needs to heal from that injury in October," Graces said awkwardly. Pansy nodded, and became quiet again. "But maybe we could take Octavian to the courtyard and you and I could grab some magazines and start placing our wardrobe order for the spring?" Graces offered, realizing she shouldn't be so short with someone who has cared so much for her.

"That sounds like a plan," Pansy smiled. "I'll get Millie. We can shop for Draco and Octavian too."

"Shop for Draco?" Graces laughed. "Really?"

"I love him in suits. We should order him more."

Graces twisted her mouth, trying not to smile, before giving in and agreeing.

"Thomas could do some of this work out there too," Graces pointed out. "We can just bring some blankets for Octavian, set up warming charms, and bundle up."

"We can buy Thomas his spring wardrobe as well," Pansy squealed with joy.

"Y-You w-will d-d-do no such th-thing," Thomas broke in standing on the stairs wide eyed, clutching Octavian close to him.

"Oh, my Thomas darling, I just love how you think you have a choice in the matter," Graces grinned.


	56. Chapter 56

Neville looked around the shabby barn filled with thestrals. He had been in here for hours waiting anxiously for Graces to appear. All day he had longed to be with her. He could physically feel his love for her weighing on his heart, growing constantly. It didn't ache. Loving her didn't hurt, but at times he felt like he was going burst from it. It was all just very confusing, the feeling was in so many ways indescribable.

He heard the barn door slowly creak open and smiled knowing that Graces had arrived. He turned to greet her and let out a muffled sound of surprise when the blonde wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely.

"Good evening to you too," Neville panted when Graces moved away from him.

"Good evening," Graces smiled, turning away as she put her bag on an empty work bench and began removing her coat and scarf. Neville swallowed hard as he took in her appearance. She was wearing jeans, very well fitted jeans and what looked to be an old Slytherin Quidditch shirt from a year or so back. Nothing special, but for some reason beyond him it was very affecting. By the time Graces turned back around to him, his heart was hammering in his throat and he had to remind himself to be respectful.

"You-uh-look really nice," Neville blushed, a bit embarrassed that Graces had caught him staring so intently.

"Doesn't take much to please you, huh?" Graces chuckled softly. "An old pair of trousers and a T."

"It's very flattering," Neville noted, watching Graces' fingers playing with the bottom edge of the shirt as she shyly bit her lower lip.

"Thank you," she murmured after a few moments, her arms folding around her. She stood leaning against the workbench, her hands fidgeting with his mother's ring as she seemed to be searching for something to say.

"I never took you for the jeans and a T kind of girl," Neville admitted, slowly drifting over to her. "You usually dress so fashionably."

"This... _covers things_ ," Graces eluded, her arms going back to being folded in front of her. "It's long so even if I reach for something overhead I stayed covered. My other shirts are just more tight fitting and a lot of them show some midriff."

"Well, I really like this," Neville smiled, hoping Graces would not feel so uncomfortable. "It's, I don't know, just nice."

"Just nice," Graces smirked. "You should be a poet, Mr. Longbottom."

"If I decided to go that path I would beat out your Shakespeare."

"Oh, would you now?" Graces laughed, bending over slightly from her amusement.

"Yeah, I would. That bloke was not that grand of a writer when it came to poetry,"

"What makes you say that?" Graces asked, turning to face him curiously.

"Sonnet 130."

"Ah, Graces nodded. "That one."

"Yeah, that one," Neville laughed. "That's pretty terrible."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you think it's terrible?" Graces clarified, her silver eyes evaluating him closely.

"Do you think it's good?" Neville asked, slightly shocked.

"You didn't answer my question, Longbottom. Why do you dislike it?"

Neville felt as though Graces were leading him into a trap. He had a very distinct feeling that when he told her why she was going to end up making him feel foolish, but he had already said he disliked it and there was no point now in trying to recover.

"He's insulting to her," Neville started hesitantly. "He says all these horrible things about her and then goes and says he loves her."

"He's not insulting, he's honest. He's saying that she isn't pretty, but in a way he's also reprimanding society for only giving worth to a woman for her beauty. All the time these poems describe women as immortal beings like angels and goddesses, but never say anything remotely truthful."

"Is that how you see it?"

"That's how I see it," Graces smiled. "I like it. It speaks to me. He sees her. There is no foolishness to it. He sees her. He's saying yeah, she's no looker. She's no goddess, but I love her."

"Still it's not the typical poem or sonnet," Neville argued, still not a fan of the piece.

"No, it's not," Graces agreed, smiling quietly. "Shakespeare was very beyond people. He liked to do what was different. He must have been a very daring man. I read that this poem was to mock most love poems. All of them are very cliche and Shakespeare decided to poke fun at this. But I think it was more than just making fun of the standard love poems, I think he was also saying that it's unfair to compare women to perfection when it's impossible to achieve. His mistress wasn't the perfect idea of a woman."

Neville watched as Graces seemed to retreat into her own thoughts. He wondered if she was thinking of how Shakespeare must have loved this mystery woman, if Graces herself longed for such a love, if she would think his love was just as good if she knew of it.

"Your eyes are nothing like the sun," Neville began reciting. "Coral is far more red than your lips." Graces laughed as he began echoing Shakespeare's great sonnet to her. "If snow be white, why then your breasts are dun. I have seen roses—"

"You're skipping parts!" Graces cried, all her pearly teeth showing as she smiled. "You didn't mention the hairs. If hairs be wires, black wires grow from her head."

"Shhh," Neville shushed. "I can't say that one cause your hair is clearly not black. Now where was I? Oh, yes. I have seen roses damask'd red and white. But no such roses do I see in your cheeks. And in some perfumes is there more delight than in the breath from you that reeks." Neville tried to repeat more of the sonnet, but Graces put her hand over his lips and was practically dying from laughter as she told him to be silent.

"You're ruining the sonnet!" she laughed, as Neville dragged her hands down from his mouth and began shouting as much of it as he could before she regained control and was muffling the words against her hand again.

"—YOU, WHEN YOU WALK, TREAD ON GROUND."

"Shhhh," Graces shushed, her laughter far more louder than his resertation. "You're disturbing the thestrals!"

"I'll be quieter," Neville promised, wrapping his arms around her and leaning in closely to continue. Graces let out a few more giggles, but stopped trying to make him silent.

"And yet, by heaven, I think my love rare," Neville whispered, his mouth brushing up against her neck as he spoke under her ear. "As any you belied with false compare."

Neville almost immediately regretted saying those last lines. The laughter was now gone, and though Graces smiled politely and gave an off handed laugh, it wasn't real like before. She awkwardly untangled herself from his hold and moved away to her bag like she needed to get something. It was stupid, he took it too far. Graces wasn't at all ready for him to try and express his real feelings for her. This was after all just a ruse, and he knew she became uncomfortable with anything too intimate. Anything that showed more attachment. _She became uncomfortable because you meant it when you said it._

_She doesn't know that._

_Your tone seemed sincere._

"Listen, I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something," Graces said unsurely, clearly trying to hide her discomfort from earlier. "It's regarding the house."

Neville was a bit shocked at the abrupt change in subject but went over to where Graces was taking out multiple papers and magazines.

"I was hoping that I could give you some orders to send for furniture, clothes and other supplies of that nature. I'll of course give you the gold for it all." Neville frowned and picked up a few of Graces listings. A crib, some toys ranging in ages groups, a toddler sized bed, some linens... She was wanting to ensure Octavian had a nursery set. "I would order it myself, but I don't want to arouse any suspicion."

"I have all the furniture," Neville murmured, looking over the list carefully. "Cribs and sized beds included. They're used, but they should all work fine."

"I would rather just order new," Graces insisted, taking out a few other magazines and orders.

"I just don't want to raise suspicion by me ordering nursery things for a child I clearly don't have."

"Oh... that's right," Graces breathed, obviously deflated.

"I could order muggle ones," Neville offered, watching Graces for a reaction. "It's not like our cribs are all that different."

"Ours are spelled," Graces corrected. "They don't allow the child to climb out and an alarm sounds if the baby suddenly stops breathing. Sudden infant death syndrome is practically gone from our world."

"I'm sure we can figure out the charms and do it ourselves," Neville pointed out.

"I suppose you're right," Graces nodded. "I just wanted to make things as nice as possible... The situation won't be ideal and I wanted to make it nice."

"It will be nice," Neville promised, taking Graces hand. "It's a very nice house and we will make sure everything is set up nicely for your family. Don't worry about a thing. This is supposed to ease your worries, not give you new ones."

"I know," Graces sighed. "I just keep thinking of things. Octavian is so young, he's going to need a lot of stuff. I don't know how long we will have to be there."

"Whatever he needs I will make sure to get it. You don't have to have everything right away, you can tell me what you need when you are there too."

Graces looked at him hesitantly for a moment, before biting her lip and asking if he would be staying with them.

"Oh, uh, no I won't be," Neville blushed. "I thought it best if even when you are there no one knows anything about my involvement." Graces frowned at this statement and raised her eyebrows signaling Neville to continue. "I just don't want anyone to think that I'm helping because you and I, well, you know."

"Sleep together," Graces clarified,her eyes seeming to become bigger as the realization dawned on her.

"Yeah... I mean I don't want anyone to think—"

"That I'm whoring myself out for protection," Graces clipped, removing her hand from his. "Thanks, I appreciate that."

Neville reddened at the bluntness and began to stumble over his words to explain, but Graces raised a hand silencing him.

"Longbottom, I'm not mad about what you said. I'm just... I don't know. I don't want them thinking that either and I feel..."

Neville stayed silent for a few moments as Graces continued to wrap her head around what her family would think if they found out. He could tell the thought alone made her a little queasy. This clearly wasn't anything at all like that, but he knew she wouldn't want the thought even crossing anyone's mind.

"Did you want me there?"

Graces looked up at him and shook her head slowly. "I think if you were there it would cause a lot of tension. Not to mention you'll be in school."

"Tension, huh," Neville hummed.

"It's not that I wouldn't want to see you," Graces murmured, tucking her hair behind her ears. "It's just that I—"

"Still wouldn't want your family to know," Neville finished.

"I don't know," Graces whispered. "They wouldn't approve and they wouldn't want to be in that house if they knew about you, about what we've been doing. It would make living in such tight living quarters very tense. And Draco for sure would think you were taking advantage and my mother, oh gods, if she knew. We're not courting, we're just..." Graces waved her hand around to indicate what they were doing.

Neville bit his tongue from saying that they could formally court then. He could only imagine Graces' reaction to that idea and he felt that if he mentioned it she would feel forced to agree. Like if she didn't she would lose the house.

"I would want you to visit though."

"Sorry?"

"Would you visit?" Graces repeated sheepishly. "At night or something. I know most of the year you'll be in school, but—"

"Yeah," Neville smiled. "I'll visit. I'll visit as often as I can. Or as often as you'll let me."

"I would let you visit pretty often," Graces smiled back, clasping her hands in front of her.

"How often?"

"Often," Graces murmured. "I really do like you, Longbottom."

"You're okay," Neville shrugged, giving the blonde a smile.

"Just okay?" Graces smiled, nudging his side playfully and lingering close.

"Yeah, just okay."

The two of them stood there for a few moments. Lingering near one another. Neville could feel Graces leg against his and they both slouched against the workbench. She was so pretty. He had seen her daily and still in moments like this he couldn't get over how beautiful she was leaning against a bench in jeans and an old shirt.

"I'll never be able to thank you," Graces whispered, staring at the middle of the floor. "Never. Not in a hundred years could I ever repay you for this."

"There's nothing to repay," Neville promised, taking her hand in his casually. "I want to help."

"Still," Graces breathed. "You're giving me my brother. I'll forever be thankful. Even if we don't use the house. I'm thankful."

"You're not going to start crying again are you?" Neville teased good naturedly, moving closer and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Graces laughed and playfully hit his chest, wiping away a joyful tear away before hand.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I've never been this emotional and-"

"I was just kidding, Graces," Neville laughed. "I don't mind you crying because you're happy."

"I am happy," Graces realized, smiling up at him. "I'm so very happy. And worry free. I haven't felt this calm in ages."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's not all gone, but most of it is. I'm still worried about my father, but..." Graces shrugged in lieu of finishing. Neville wondered if there was anything that could be done for Lucius Malfoy. He wished there was. He knew Graces loved her father and for some reason the fact that she loved him made Neville feel differently about him. He certainly did not think of him as a good man, but he also didn't think of him like he did before. "We should do something," Graces decided, looking up at him.

"Like what?"

"I don't know just something. I don't really want to just sit around talking about the same things again and again. I want to do something with you. Like something _normal_."

Neville frowned at the word. He wasn't entirely sure what Graces was insinuating with normal.

"Lets play a game or something."

"A game?" Neville laughed.

"Yeah, let's play wizards chess or exploding snaps."

"You want to play a game?" Neville repeated. "A game."

"Why do you look so perplexed?" Graces grinned, turning to her bag and taking out a deck of cards. "Don't you and your housemates play games to pass the time?"

"We do," Neville nodded. "I just, I don't know."

"What?"

"You just took me by surprise," Neville explained. "It's not everyday you ask to play a game with me."

"Well, I'm asking today," Graces smiled. "So what do you want to play?"

"Uh, I don't know." Neville suddenly was a little self-conscious. He was terrible at games and he had a feeling that Graces was very good. "Do you want to build a house of cards?" Neville asked, knowing that he was actually very decent at that, being an only child and having a good, steady hand.

"A house of cards with exploding cards," Graces grinned. "Okay, that sounds like fun."

"Great." Neville moved over to a clear area of floor that was level, he muttered a few cleaning spells to take away the dust and sat down. Graces sat across from him, smiling like a cheshire cat.

"I'm very good at this. Draco and I once built a whole castle," the blonde boasted, shuffling the cards elaborately. "Though it wasn't with exploding cards. My point is, Longbottom, that you better be prepared to be showed up."

"We'll see, Malfoy."

Neville laid the base of the card house down before handing the deck back to Graces. The blonde smirked at him and took a few cards to stack and then suddenly she paused. Neville frowned as Graces' playfulness was abandoned and she stared at the small level already made. Tentatively she made an upside down v with two cards and slowly moved to stack it on top.

"I don't think you're going to be showing me up," Neville laughed, as Graces completely demolished the beginning of their card house. "You put your whole hand in it!"

Graces blushed, but didn't offer an explanation. Instead she tried to assemble the base again. Neville laughed as she had difficulty lining up the pillars against one another, it was as though she couldn't tell how close the other pillars she made were. Her hands seemed to overestimate how close they were.

Graces had finally managed to assemble something of a base when all the cards exploded, thus ruining her work.

"Hey, Malfoy."

"What!" Graces snapped, tossing the cards in her hand down angrily.

"You're not very good at this," Neville smiled, wondering if Graces always became so childish when she lost.

"I was good at it," Graces whispered, more to herself than him. Neville frowned as she seemed to be seriously upset. He didn't understand how something so silly could bring her so close to tears.

"Graces?"

"Sorry," Graces murmured, placing on a false small smile. "I'm just a bad sport. Let's keep playing."

Neville felt like there was something more, but before he could put his finger on it Graces was gathering up all the cards and declaring that she would whoop him in speed.

"Oh so you're just going to change the game on me since I'm winning?" Neville teased, allowing Graces to divvy up the cards.

"That's the plan, Longbottom," Graces winked.

Neville was surprised at how fun playing cards with Graces was. She wasn't such a bad sport when she lost in speed, though she didn't lose often. Every once in a while he would beat her and she would laugh and beg the cards to explode before he put down the last of his cards.

"I need new cards," Graces declared. "These ones snap too much when I'm about to win. They have no loyalty."

"You're so ridiculous."

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you, Longbottom," Graces sang, dealing out new cards.

"Since when have you fed me?" Neville laughed.

"Well, I do feed other appetites of yours," Graces smirked, a sultry look coming to her eyes, before she began giggling. "No seriously though, I brought you food."

Neville frowned in confusion as Graces hurried over to her bag and took out a huge tin of food.

"I thought you may be hungry," Graces explained, removing the tins lid and revealing what must have been tonight's dinner from the Great Hall along with three cauldron cakes that looked to be homemade. "You didn't come to breakfast, at lunch you grabbed two sandwiches and an apple and fled, then you didn't show up for dinner." Graces gave Neville a pointed look as though he should realize how immensely foolish this was. "So I took it upon myself to ensure you didn't starve."

"I very much appreciate that," Neville grinned, taking a piece of chicken and tucking in. He seriously didn't realize how starved he was until he was able to smell the food. Now his stomach ached with hunger. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Neville felt a bit odd with Graces watching him eat. He all of the sudden was very careful to not be messy, not take too big of bites and he prayed he looked nothing like Ron when he ate.

"What did you do today?" Graces asked curiously, starting a small game of solitaire as she waited for him to finish.

_Great, now she's talking to me while I eat..._ Neville hurried to chew the potatoes he had just put in his mouth.

"Nothing, really," he murmured. "I sat in the courtyard and Luna kept me company."

"The courtyard," Graces echoed. "I was in the courtyard today."

"I know," Neville admitted, taking another bite of chicken. "I think you and Pansy ordered Octavian every outfit available."

"I didn't see you there."

"I didn't want to be seen."

"Were you spying on me?" Graces asked narrowing her eyes, though no real anger was there.

"I enjoy hearing you happy, so when you showed up in such a joyful mood I stayed."

Graces twisted her mouth to keep from smiling at his comment, but Neville could tell she was flattered. Her cheeks were red and she was doing a poor job of hiding her smile.

"So," the blonde began awkwardly, clearly wanting to distract him from her flattery. "Are you still avoiding your friends?"

"Yep." Neville made sure his next bite was especially generous so that he wouldn't have to answer anymore questions.

"You know I can just wait till you swallow," Graces pointed out, causing Neville to take another great bite before he clearing his mouth.

"That's attractive," Graces snorted. "The food will eventually be gone, then you will have to talk to me."

"There's nothing to discuss, really," Neville murmured, covering his mouth as he spoke. "They all treated me poorly and I'm not going to apologize for my feelings."

"You could apologize for not being open with them."

"It's not like we are all especially close," Neville defended. "Like if I had talked to them before about things like this, then maybe, but I never did."

Graces stared at him for a few moments before taking a cauldron cake out of the tin and munching on it.

"You're a very private man, Mr. Longbottom," she thought aloud. "It's so easy to forget about that because of how warm you are. It tricks people into thinking you're open."

"I just—"

"It's not a bad thing," Graces interrupted. "I'm not saying that. I'm just noting it."

"You've noted it before," Neville grumbled, really disliking where this conversation was going.

"I have. I just felt like bringing it up again." Graces popped another piece of the cake into her mouth and sighed contently at the taste before looking back at him. "What did you do with Luna?"

Neville relieved to see they were moving away from the topic of his relationships with his year mates, jumped on the change of topic.

"We just talked. Caught up a bit."

"What did you talk about?"

"Her father's paper, wrackspurts—don't ask—and, well, you," Neville admitted, trying to be casual.

"You didn't tell her anything though, right? Nothing about my brother or the previous week."

"No. No, Luna was just interested in how we were doing. She seemed to know yesterday was just a ruse."

Graces nodded, but didn't say more.

"I'm glad about yesterday," Neville said sheepishly. "It was nice to hear you so happy in the courtyard... worry free. I heard you ordering clothes for Draco to be worn in the summer and—well I'm glad you feel you can do that."

"I'm glad too," Graces smiled. "I'm just sorry it cost you your happiness."

"It didn't. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that this makes me happy."

"You're avoiding the Great Hall," Graces dead panned, giving Neville a pointed look.

"It will all eventually pass."

Graces hummed a reply, but allowed the subject to drop.

"These cauldron cakes are fantastic," Neville complimented, wanting to fill the silence. "Are they the ones that your mother sends you?"

"Yeah they are. She sends them weekly along with other assortments."

"She bakes them?"

"She does," Graces said proudly. "Though she only bakes. The house elves make meals and she only makes these when Draco and I are in school. She doesn't really spend time in the kitchens when we are home."

"Kitchens? As in plural?" Neville gawked.

"Yes, as in plural," Graces laughed. "I'll bring a picture of our home. It's huge."

"Oh, you will have a lot to get used to if you all have to go to this house," Neville chuckled, imagining Graces reaction to the humble house.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Graces murmured, falling silent and biting her lower lip. Clearly wanting to say something. "Is-is it your parent's home?" she asked finally, looking up at him as though she feared her question alone would sting him.

"No," Neville answered patiently. "My parent's home is more of a cottage. It's much too small for so many people."

"A cottage," Graces repeated. "That must be nice. A little getaway." Neville nodded noncommittally. "Do you go there often?"

"I've never been there," Neville said evenly. "I've only seen pictures, but from what I've seen it was very nice. Lots of flowers, a picket fence, vines growing freely up the outer walls and a stream a bit of a ways from the house."

"You've never been there," Graces repeated. "Why?"

"Why should I?"

"It was your parents house," Graces stated, as though that answered everything. "It was your home."

"I don't remember anything about that house. I have no memories of it. My gran's house is my home," Neville explained, keeping his voice level. "I really have no attachment to my parent's cottage."

"None?"

"None."

Graces stared at him as though he was losing his mind. Neville tried not to show any kind of emotion on his face. This was it. She was going to ask about his parents and he was going to tell her. He had never told anyone how he felt about his parents, but he was going to tell her. He wondered how she was going to look at him after he told her how he felt. If she would judge him. If she would try to understand.

"Do you want to listen to music?"

"You want to listen to music?" Neville frowned.

"Yeah, I was thinking we could listen while we played cards some more."

Neville couldn't believe Graces was just dropping this subject. He felt unnerved as she began setting up the radio to the muggle station and sitting back down in front of him getting the cards ready. It was so casual, like the conversation touching on his parents didn't even happen.

"You're not going to ask me anything else?" Neville frowned.

"I'm not," Graces clipped, dividing up the last of the cards. "You forget I am the ice queen. I can shut off my emotions like that." Graces snapped her fingers for emphasis. "And I know why people do it. You're not ready to discuss your parents and I'm not going to ask you to. We can discuss the topic when you're ready."

"And if I'm never ready?" Neville asked, thinking about how he's never told a soul his feelings about his parents.

Graces looked up at him and met his eyes unflinchingly, the tips of her fingers dangled off her crossed legs and teased the cards laying face down, but her attention was all on Neville.

"You were about to tell me everything if I asked," she said gently, her hand reaching out and touching his knee. "You're going to be ready."

"And until then we will be normal and play games and listen to music," Graces said, offering him an encouraging smile before removing her hand. Neville nodded and didn't say anything as Graces grabbed the chess board from her bag and set up the pieces. He didn't know how to tell her that he wasn't really closing off his feelings; he really was that detached. He wondered if she would look at him differently if she knew. Her family was everything to her, how could he tell her he didn't know how he felt about his own. He often felt his love for his parents was only out of obligation. That he felt shame in it, but he couldn't change the feeling. "You can go first," Graces offered, pretending not to notice the thick silence around them.

And so they played. Neville remained in his own head, unable to shake away from thoughts of his parents and judgment from Graces when one day he voiced these thoughts. He didn't even care that Graces was seeing how hopeless he was in games like chess, he just moved the pieces one after another.

"You know they didn't love one another," Graces proclaimed, breaking the silence.

"What?" Neville frowned.

"Shakespeare and his mistress," the blonde stated, as though they had been speaking about Shakespeare the whole time. "They had a very toxic relationship. She cheated, he cheated, they lied to one another constantly and pretended to be people they weren't. He made himself believe he loved her."

"Why didn't he love his wife?"

"I don't know," Graces sighed. "She got pregnant and they got married. Lust does not often bring good marriages. They were both unhappily married."

"I suppose not," Neville agreed. "Still, men shouldn't cheat on their wives."

"No, they shouldn't," Graces acknowledged. "It's interesting though, isn't it? He wrote so many lovely things about love and I don't think the man ever truly loved anyone."

"Maybe that's why he wrote such things. He wished he had loved in those ways. Maybe that's why he convinced himself he loved his mistress. He wanted to believe he had love."

"Maybe," Graces mused, her silver eyes distracted from the conversation and hitched on his knight that he was moving.

"Longbottom, you're terrible at this."

"Yeah, I've heard that a few times before," Neville chuckled, now seeing that he had just sent his knight to be slaughtered.

"Chess is like a giant game of war. You have to think of the bigger picture. Stop trying to save all your pieces," Graces ordered, leaning over the board so that they were practically nose to nose. "If you don't you will remain on the defense and you will get nowhere near my king. It will be a slaughter. Send others to die so the majority can live."

"Maybe it would be best if we had some sort of treaty and everyone gets to live," Neville joked.

"That would be best, unfortunately for you I will accept no treaties," Graces declared, sending her queen to destroy his knight.

Neville had a hard time not laughing after that. For the rest of the game Graces made a very elaborate show of slaughtering him all across the board. She made sound effects and brought her voice up in a high pitch as she pretended every single piece of his tried to beg for their lives. She was like a six year old playing with figurines. At the end when she was about to put him in check mate she insisted he himself lay down and play dead.

It was a great night. It wasn't completely without sad discussions, but Graces and he laughed more than anything else. And the last hour was spent with the two of them kissing passionately in the barn stall they had spent the night in.

It was glorious kissing Graces, holding her close and winding his hands through her hair. Neville had never felt as whole as he did with her body pressed against his. Each breath was shared in the other's and each minute they both burned with a higher fever. Neville was having a hard time containing himself. His breathing had become erratic and his heart continued to pound against his chest. His mind continued to wander to memories of the past. The feeling of Graces' bare skin against his lips, how her hair would fall against her breasts. Painfully aroused, Neville moved to be more on top of her, his skin burning with desire.

At first Graces welcomed his actions and nibbled from his neck to the under part of his ear, causing him to groan with pleasure before pushing her firmly down so he could kiss her in the same way. The noises that came from her mouth were like wine for the ears, he felt himself becoming intoxicated off every gasp and gently moan. He spread his fingers out against her hip and slowly began to in up under Graces' shirt. An act he regretted, because the moment his hand found flesh Graces stopped him and said she had to go.

"Do you?" Neville panted, his trousers now uncomfortable tight.

"Yeah, I do," Graces apologized, leaning up and kissing him gently. "It's late."

Neville died a little in that kiss. Nothing could ever taste so sweet and be so bitter. He wasn't ready for the night to end. He dipped his head and captured Graces' lips in another tender kiss, before whispering huskily how much he wanted her.

"You're making this hard," Graces groaned, closing her eyes against the sensation of Neville's hot breath against her ears and taught body against hers.

"Please, don't go," Neville whispered, kissing down the base of her neck. "Please."

"If I stay we're going to sleep together."

"I can live with that," Neville promised, trying to keep the blonde from getting up. "It will be hard, but I can live with it."

Neville could tell Graces wanted to say yes, that as much as he wanted to be with her she wanted to be with him, but her self-consciousness won out and the blonde shook her head. Neville wanted to press, wanted to tell her how he didn't care about what her stomach may look like and that he just wanted to be with her, but he stopped himself. She was saying no and as hard as it was at the moment he was going to respect that.

"Shall we meet again tomorrow night?" Graces asked hopefully, getting up and gathering her things. She looked over at Neville unsurly like she was suspecting that he would say no.

"Graces, I will meet you every night if you are willing to be sleep deprived."

The blonde smiled at this and leaned down to where Neville was still residing and kissed him softly.

"I appreciate you being so understanding," she whispered, leaning her forehead against his. "I know this isn't ideal and—"

"This is ideal, Graces," Neville chuckled. "It's past midnight. I got to spend my night with you playing games, laughing and snogging you senseless. This is more than ideal, it's normal. We've never had anything remotely this normal." Graces smiled and silently laughed at his statement.

"And the fact that you only are letting me snog you also adds to that normalicy," Neville added with a wry smile.

"I suppose it does," Graces grinned.

They were silent for a few moments, each of them lingering near the other not wanting to leave, but eventually they both stood to go. Both students disillusioned themselves and walked to the Slytherin entrance. Neither of them were able to see the other so for once they were able to hold hands in the school halls. Neville enjoyed every step and pretended that this wasn't just to keep track of one another and that they really were that normal couple that held hands in the hall.

When they reached the Slytherin entrance he held her hand tighter, not allowing her to slip away.

"I just wanted to remind you that I don't care," he stated, wishing he could see Graces face. "I really don't. And I have no problem with you not wanting to be intimate, but it bothers me that it's because you feel yourself less than before. Cause-cause I see you as more now."

"Maybe Shakespeare had a point about the comparisons we make about women. Lots of poems emphasize beauty, but if I was talented and I could write I would write about your strength and compassion. I would write about how your kindness touches hearts. And your Malfoyness for lack of a better term," Neville said awkwardly, wishing he was better with words. "I would talk about how happy you make me and how you're humor is... is like the sun."

Neville blushed at how corny he sounded and wished he could take that last statement back. He tried to think of something else to say, but before he could find the words he felt Graces' lips on his.

"Thank you," Graces whispered, her other hand's fingers lingering on his jaw line. "I'll keep that in mind. Good night."

"Good night," Neville echoed, a little dazed from Graces' goodbye.

He lingered in the dungeons for a bit wondering if Graces really did believe him before sleepwalking back to his room and collapsing on his bed. He went to sleep that night and dreamed of days like this. Days where he and Graces were free to be what they were tonight.


	57. Chapter 57

Sunday mornings always created this haze around the castle. It seemed like the whole school would laze about in the mornings before making the most out of the last day of the weekend. Neville turned over in his bed and held his spare pillow tight to his chest, too warm and comfortable to fully wake. He kept his eyes closed and urged his mind to go back to the dream he was having, back to the world where he was holding Graces in his arms and breathing her in as they softly kissed their good mornings.

He was just beginning to fall back to sleep as his dream escalated to Graces taking his pants off when the curtains to his bed were abruptly yanked open.

"BLOODY HELL!" Neville hurried to pull the sheets up to his chin. "THE CURTAINS ARE CLOSED! CLOSED! LAST I CHECKED THAT MEANT SOMETHING IN A BOYS DORM!"

"WE DON'T WANT TO FIGHT ANYMORE!" Ron yelled, not coming across as contrite as he and the other boys appeared. "WE'RE SORRY AND WE DON'T WANT TO FIGHT. AND YOUR CURTAINS ARE ALWAYS CLOSED!"

"This couldn't wait til I was out of bed?" Neville asked, moving the pillow so it was on top of his lap and blushing scarlet.

Ron pinked and murmured about how they heard him moving in bed and then he started snoring again.

"We just didn't want you staying in bed til we all left like yesterday," Seamus offered from behind Ron. "We just all wanted to get this over with."

Neville tried to take a few calming breaths, he felt like he was breathing like a frustrated dragon rather than a human being.

"Just give me a second to wake up and we can talk," he finally muttered, thankful that Ron closed the curtains. After taking a few minutes to gather himself and make sure that he was calmed down, in more ways than just one, he got up from the bed.

Harry, Ron, Seamus and Dean were all waiting for him. Harry sat on his bed while Ron paced between Seamus and Dean who were sitting on his.

"I didn't mean to hurt your eye," Ron grumbled, his cheeks pinking slightly. "I really didn't mean to. I meant to just hit the back of your head... you know? Not really hurt you. Just..." Ron's voice trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders not quite sure how to explain.

Neville crossed his arms in front of himself uncomfortably and wondered when things became so hard. _When you stopped going along with things. When you decided what you wanted for yourself and refused to be apologetic._

"I appreciate that," he whispered still holding his arms tightly to himself. Ron rubbed the back of his neck and Neville felt as though he should say more, but he couldn't find it in him. He was afraid if he opened his mouth he would apologize, and he was done with that. He didn't feel he had a reason to be sorry anymore. Even the lying he didn't feel bad about. Graces was safe and she was happy.

"We're all sorry for the way we reacted," Harry said quietly, disturbing the pregnant silence that was surrounding them. "We had no right to think you would tell us about such things. We all certainly don't confide in you our secrets, so we shouldn't expect you to tell us yours."

"Not to mention we shouldn't have ignored you after the morning you had," Dean added, looking down at his shoes.

"Yeah, what Malfoy said to you was rough. We should have talked to you," Seamus agreed.

"I was fine."

"Even still," Ron murmured. "We're sorry. And I'm in particular more sorry. I should never have mentioned your mum and dad."

"It's fine," Neville nodded hollowly.

"It's not fine," Ron whispered angrily. "It was wrong and I'm sorry."

Neville sat on those words for a moment before rasping out a thanks. He still didn't feel like everything was better, but he wanted everything behind them. There was a chill in the room that came with the tense silence and it took every ounce of energy for Neville not to move from where he stood.

"There are things I don't tell you lot," Harry broke in, his hands playing with the spine of his potion book. "A lot of things... and Neville, some of those things you probably deserved to know."

"Like what?"

Harry hesitated and looked at the other boys in the room for a moment before whispering that Sirius Black was his godfather.

"Black?" Neville repeated wide eyed, remembering everything that happened third year.

"Yeah," Harry murmured quietly. "I never told you that and you risked your life to help me save him. I never told you who he was to me."

"No, you didn't." Neville couldn't help but frown at his friend.

"Sirius Black was your godfather?" Seamus asked, his jaw practically on the ground. "You two were close?"

"I take it this means he was also innocent," Dean assumed, staring at Harry who nodded despondently.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Neville murmured softly, remembering the night at the Ministry and Harry's reaction when Sirius was killed. "I didn't know."

"Well, that's my point," Harry sniffed. "I never told you. I think we all have our secrets and we all have people we share those secrets with."

Harry looked over to Ron briefly before pursing his lips tightly together.

"Who do you talk to, Nev?" Seamus asked, a hint of concern coming to his voice.

Neville looked back at his friend and the others in the room all seeming to align in thinking he had no one.

_Oh, no. I'm so not doing this,_ Neville thought realizing that the boys around him were probably going to start awkwardly talking about how he could talk to them and that they would want to be there for him. It wasn't that Neville didn't think that was all true, he just thought of it as forced. It didn't come naturally. He wasn't comfortable talking to them and they had never clicked in a way with him to do it either.

"I like my privacy," Neville stated, already backing away from that scenario.

"Surely, you talk to someone," Dean frowned. "I mean, no one's an island."

Neville wanted to tell Dean that he was and a self sustaining one at that, but he also wanted this subject dropped.

"I talk to Luna," he offered, thinking about his conversation with the Ravenclaw in the courtyard the other day. "She actually knew about my feelings for Graces before I asked her out. She's known for a while. When you all walked in on us that night, we weren't doing anything. We were talking about Graces," Neville finished quietly.

"How did she react when you told her?" Seamus asked, leaning forward.

"Well," Neville shrugged, not really wanting to say more.

"I'm sorry we didn't take it well," Dean murmured. "We just don't understand it."

"Maybe you could tell us what it is about her," Harry stated hopefully, clearly trying to allow Neville to discuss his feelings. Everyone around the room nodded in agreement, even Ron though he was definitely biting his tongue.

"No, I, uh, it would be a bit painful for me," Neville lied awkwardly. "You know... after her turning me down and all."

"Do you want to talk about that?" Ron offered, taking a seat by Harry and settling in as though he suspected Neville would.

"Um, no," Neville decided, now really wanting to get out of the room.

"You sure?" Ron asked. "I mean, I don't really have the emotional range of a teaspoon," Ron grinned, looking at Harry as though this was some personal joke. "I could understand where you're coming from. Remember when I asked out Fleur and she laughed at me?"

"Thanks," Neville blushed, wishing that everyone would stop looking at him. "But really I just want to pretend that it didn't happen. Just completely forget about it. No talking about it, no acting different, I just want to be done."

"Are your feelings for her done?" Dean asked carefully.

Neville debated answering that question at all.

"No, they're not," he said evenly, gulping down any other retort. "I don't want to explain myself or my feelings," he began slowly. "I love her. That's all you guys need to know. I love her and-and I don't want to hear or see any of you being unkind to her over what happened yesterday."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously," Neville repeated, mildly irritated. "I don't want anyone being unkind to her. Like I said I am in love with her, so please just understand that it would only hurt me more if people were cruel to her. I just want to pretend this didn't happen. That's all I want and part of that is acting like nothing happened to her as well as me."

"This is bloody ridiculous," Ron muttered, looking up at ceiling before nodding his head in agreement.

Neville felt a great sense of relief in knowing that no one was going to harass Graces over what she said to him. He knew she already felt terrible about the whole ordeal, and the last thing he wanted was for others to make her feel worse.

"Everyone up to get some breakfast?" Ron asked, clearly biting at the bit to leave the room before the Great Hall stopped serving food. Harry gave Ron a bewildered look, clearly thinking his statement insensitive. "He said he wants to forget about it all, so I'm obliging."

"I'm starved," Neville proclaimed, all for Ron's tactic of forgetting this mess. "Let me just change and I'll meet you there."

"We'll wait," Dean offered, giving Ron a look that meant him as well.

Neville quickly showered, thankful for the few minutes of peace he had away from his friends. He was glad that they were no longer mad and that things had been worked out between them, but as he stared into the mirror he wondered if his friendship would ever be anything more intimate. He didn't see how it could be. They really didn't know him, sometimes he didn't even know himself these days. He trailed his hand against his face noticing the scruff that had grown from the day before.

He didn't even think twice about leaving it. He was already imaging Graces running her hands through it as she allowed him to kiss her breathless. He probably would have stood in front of the mirror longer thinking of what his night was going to be like, if Ron hadn't started banging on the bathroom dorm talking about how he was seconds away from eating his own hand.

Neville hurriedly finished getting dressed, but paused as he stared at himself in the mirror one last time. He could be handsome. Not just in a 'oh, he's not bad looking way'. For a moment he thought he could seriously be handsome.

"Hey, Harry," Neville began awkwardly, stepping out of the loo and adjusting his sleeves. "Do you think I could work out with the Quidditch team?"

"Uh—"

"Not be on the team," Neville said quickly. "Just work out with you lot. Not on the broom, but when you all do laps around the pitch and such."

Neville thought about taking it back, Harry seemed to be slightly uncomfortable with the request, but before he could take it back Harry nodded and said that he could come to their morning practice tomorrow.

"Thanks."

"Yep, just be sure to wake up," Harry reminded, heading towards the door for breakfast.

"You're mad. If I could skip early morning workouts before class, I would," Ron warned, following Harry.

Neville smirked and was about to head out after them when Seamus stopped him.

"None of what she said was true. You know that right?" Neville didn't say a word, which Seamus seemed to take as him not believing what he was saying. "When she said look at me, look at you. I don't want you taking that to heart. I know you want to act like this didn't happen, but you starting to work out because of what some—"

"I'm doing it for me," Neville broke in. "I know Malfoy won't care, that how I look won't change her mind about me. I'm doing it for me."

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"You're here early," Neville commented as he walked into the barn.

"So are you," Graces pointed out, tilting her head up and Neville leaned in to kiss her hello. It was odd allowing him to do that. She would be lying if she said it was natural, because it was far from natural to allow him to kiss her so casually. She had to force herself to do that. Neville smiled softly at it, though, and that reminded her why she was allowing such an intimate thing.

Neville should be happy. He was so kind and generous, she wanted him to be happy and for whatever reason she seemed to make him happy. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and smiled back at him, unsure how she felt about herself holding so much of his happiness.

"Maybe we shouldn't stay out so late tonight," Neville chuckled, his thumb coming up and gently brushing below her eye. "You look exhausted. I think you need to get some sleep, since apparently you didn't sleep in this morning like a sane person."

"I had a bad dream," Graces admitted quietly, unsure why it was that she was so decided on being this honest with Neville. "A night terror," Graces clarified. "Like before."

She said the last part so quietly she wondered if Neville heard her, but she had her answer when Neville knelt down in front of where she was sitting and took her hands in his.

"If you want to feel bad for someone, feel bad for Millie," Graces joked sadly. "I knocked the wind out of her and she twisted her wrist fighting me. Pansy went to find Draco, but he wasn't anywhere to be found," she explained quietly.

"I thought these stopped," Neville frowned, clearly upset at the thought that this had been going on.

"They did," Graces nodded, heat coming to her cheeks. "Do you remember why they stopped?"

Graces watched as realization dawned in Neville's head and his neck turned apple red with the knowledge.

"Oh, uh, right."

Graces smiled as he became exceptionally flustered and continued to fumble over his words. As dim as her predicament was it was very funny to see Neville so flustered. "You embarrass so easily," Graces teased, smiling more to herself than Neville. "It's quite endearing."

Neville, if possible, turned even more red, before awkwardly reminding Graces that they could continue their more intimate relations if she needed.

"You deserve better than that," Graces whispered, placing her chin in the palm of her hand and looking at Neville's soft brown eyes. "I don't want to use you like that."

"I can guarantee I wouldn't mind," Neville grinned, tucking her hair behind her ear and causing the blonde to smile at the touch.

"No," she maintained. "I'm done using you to get through my day or so I can sleep better at night."

Neville opened his mouth to protest, like he was going to argue that she had never done such a thing, but Graces raised her hand to silence him. "It was what it was," she declared. " I didn't know you, you didn't know me and I saw no problem in having something casual with you. Something detached," she further explained, a tiny bit of guilt coming to her voice. "But I know you now and I can't go back to that to just using you."

"I never felt used," Neville promised.

"But you were," Graces countered. "I used you. I considered it more of a quid pro quo arrangement, but I used you none the less."

"Graces, I don't thi—"

Graces leaned in and kissed Neville before he could try and make her feel better for the past. She quietly slipped off her chair until she was kneeling on the floor in his arms. It was just like Neville not to see the bad in a person. To ignore or justify someone's actions. He humanized people. She loved that about him and at the same time wished his eyes weren't so rose-colored.

"I don't want to sleep with you," she murmured, pulling away from his lips and nuzzling his nose with her's.

"This is a very bad way of showing that," Neville breathed, still keeping his eyes closed from the kiss.

"Let me rephrase," Graces grinned, moving so that she was pressing herself so firmly against him that he had to lean back. "I very much want to sleep with you." Graces felt a surge of confidence as Neville's breath hitched as she ran her hands against his chest. "I think about it often. I'm thinking about it right now," Graces whispered, taking Neville's lips in hers and enjoying the feel of Neville's arms wrapping around her. She let her mind toy with the idea of giving in. Of allowing herself to have him like she wanted to, allowing him to have her like he wanted to, but she stopped them from going further.

"But I'm not going to," Graces reaffirmed, moving off him. "And it's not only because I'm self conscious." Graces tried to remember why she was going to tell Neville this, she suddenly felt very frightened.

"I want to know you," she announced, surprised at how poised she sounded when she inwardly felt like she was having a panic attack. "I-I really want to know you. I want to have more nights like last night: playing games, talking, listening to music. I want to get to know you."

"I'll take potions," Graces continued, unable to stop herself from moving Neville's hair from his face. "I went and got a potion today from Pomfrey. I'll sleep, so you don't need to worry about that, but this is what I want. We should be more," Graces searched for a word to describe what she wanted and eventually settled with "healthy."

"Healthy," Neville repeated.

"Yes, healthy. What we were doing before it... it wasn't good for you, Longbottom. I got—am getting—a lot more out of this than you are."

"I'm getting all I need out of this," Neville reassured, moving up so he was straighter. "Graces, relationships aren't about what is fair. There isn't some way of measuring what two people get from one another. I'm happy and that is more than fair in my opinion."

"I know you're happy," Graces nodded. "But I still want this. I don't want this to be just about sex or getting through the day anymore. I want this to be more of a friendship, a real one."

Neville seemed to be mulling over what she was saying in his head. His brows bowed slightly towards one another and his mouth pursed gently, leading Graces to wonder if what she wanted was going to be more of a problem then what she anticipated. She had told herself that Neville would understand this, but now as she watched him thinking about it she wondered if she offended him. Neville probably thought she knew him very well, he probably thought he knew her very well, so maybe her saying this would lead him to believe that she didn't appreciate their previous time together. She was about to explain that she didn't mean he was a stranger, that she just wanted to have more time to know him sincerely, but Neville's small frown suddenly smoothed and it wasn't long before he had a small smile on his own lips.

"I would like that," he said shyly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Neville nodded. "I think I will like this a lot."

"We're not dating," Graces quickly stipulated.

"Oh, of course not," Neville proclaimed, shaking his head elaborately and wrinkling his nose in false disgust.

"I just want to be closer, actually talk like real people do. get to know you in a regular manner."

"I completely agree," Neville nodded, though Graces had a feeling he thought very differently from her. "We should get to know one another and be normal," he smirked.

"Yes," Graces murmured, holding her breath as Neville leaned in and kissed her sweetly.

"So, Miss Malfoy, are you ready for me to beat your pompous ass in cards?"

Graces gave a relieved smile before declaring that it was on.


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> So I commissioned Avendell for the beautiful artwork in this chapter. I don't know if they will be posting it themselves, but I love all the art they do. You can follow them on instagram etc. Let me know what you all think! I love it

Neville inwardly groaned as he heard the soft tapping of Loki at the Gryffindor tower window. Soft tapping on a weekday night meant one thing: Graces had another nightmare. It wasn't about waking up in the dead of night, Neville had no qualms with lack of sleep, it was that Graces had had difficulty sleeping for weeks. The dreamless sleep potion had worked for a week, but because of her abusing them in the summer they weren't as effective as before. Pomfrey had then given her something stronger, which Graces took for a while, but eventually stopped because the side effects made it impossible for her to do well in class.

She was always drowsy. Pomfrey's next move after that was to continue with the stronger potion and Graces would come in and take a wide eye potion in the morning and one in the afternoon if needed. Unfortunately, that caused yet another problem: anxiety. Pomfrey believed it was the combination of the potions together. The new solution was the stronger potion, the wide eye potions and a calming draught at least twice a day. The only time Graces was not taking so many potions was on the weekends when she would meet him. They stopped meeting during the week so she could take the stronger sleeping potion. The new potion required her to be able to get a minimum of 8 hours of sleep. And thus the only time he saw her during a weekday night was when she had a bad dream.

Neville had really believed that this last combinations of potions would work, that the calming draught would even go so far as to stop this stronger sleep potion from eventually not working. She was more relaxed, after all, and he figured her being relaxed would naturally help with dreams. She had not woken him up in the night since starting this new combination a week and a half ago. Everything seemed to be going well.

"Loki, if you nip me I swear to the Gods I will kill you," Neville hissed, letting the owl in and taking the parchment. The bird looked like it was about to scratch him, but Neville took out a few chocolate cockroaches and the idea seemed to leave Loki's mind. Neville let out a small relieved sigh as the owl flew away without any of his blood.

_Meet me in the barn. Dress warmly._

Neville went over to his nightstand and took out a small vial of wide eye potion that Luna kept in supply for him. There were definitely perks to being close friends with a Ravenclaw. Luna hadn't even asked him any questions when he asked her for the favor. He, of course, helped her make them, which caused one batch to not be that great, and paid for all the ingredients, but she really didn't ask questions about it. He wondered if the blonde thought he was just using it to stay up all night "sleeping" with Graces, because she also offered to make a potion that would keep him up in _other areas_ , an offer Neville was very quick to decline.

Neville tip-toed out of Gryffindor tower and wondered if Graces would take the mediwitch's advice and see a therapist. He had accidentally overheard Pomfrey telling Graces that the potions would eventually not work and she urged the stubborn blonde to talk to someone—a suggestion that Graces didn't even need to voice her distaste for, it showed so clearly on her face. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He had gone into the hospital wing because a certain someone with gray eyes decided to shove him so hard in the hall he sprained his wrist. He was just going in to get it mended before class when he heard the conversation. Graces didn't know he heard though; he left without seeing Pomfrey, deciding he would rather Graces not know he heard. She didn't tell him either. He supposed she didn't need to, but he still wished she would have.

She didn't tell him what she dreamed either. She would just send him a note to meet her and then want to play games or listen to music, desperate to forget whatever it was that her mind had concocted. And it worked. The moment he arrived she seemed to feel better about it all and she would smile, thank him for coming and want him to hold her for a bit.

It wasn't all sad things though. On the contrary he had been having the time of his life with Graces for the past few weeks. He found out really fast that she had god awful taste in music. He had originally thought she had great taste, because back when she first admitted to liking muggle music she had listed the Sound of Silence as the song that got her into the genre. But no. She had terrible taste. So terrible it was comical.

He had found this out when he went to change the station during a game of chess. Graces had told him to leave it to which he asked:

"You've got to be kidding me?"

"I assure you I'm not, Longbottom," Graces had declared, before placing him in check. "I like this song."

Neville had been sure she was kidding and even ended up snorting out a laugh. He really doubted that Graces Bellatrix Malfoy enjoyed REO Speedwagon, but she insisted she did. When he still didn't believe her, she proceeded to belt out the song 'Can't Fight this Feeling' elaborately from where she sat. She even had dramatic hand movements to go with her little karaoke session and by the end she had started singing on the table they had the chess set on. Ever since he brought the radio in that night in the classroom she had never showed interest in any song that played and now Neville knew why, because Graces Malfoy who had the best taste in fashion, food, books etc. had awful in music.

It was now his favorite thing about her. Every weekend night he had to suffer through awful muggle 80s music and he didn't even care. Graces was the cutest thing when it came to the music she liked. She would sing along, play air guitar, bob her head and the beginning of practically every song was accompanied by "I love this song!" Heaven was filled with bad music and Graces' constant insistence that it was amazing. He teased her mercilessly for it too.

He was learning so much more about her. It was like overnight something had changed. She was so open with him and so... different. She was still Graces, but it was like he had been looking through a hole in the wall to see her before. Now those walls were knocked down. She taught him how to groom the thestrals and told them about each's personality. She told him about what book she was reading and insisted he read along with her so they could discuss what was happening. She talked to him about anything that seemed to come to her mind.

There was still a curtain up around certain parts of her life. She didn't want to talk about her dreams, the specifics of Draco or any things like that, but it wasn't like before. It was a curtain. She would close the curtains on topics she didn't like, but it wasn't like before when she put a wall up and slammed a door in his face. It was more of a thin piece of cloth than stone. He was allowed in her walls now, just not allowed to fully enter certain rooms.

Neville slowed as he approached the barn. The door was open, but the lights were off. He cautiously took out his wand, wary of entering a room that was pitch black.

"Graces?"

"About time!" Graces exclaimed. Neville was about to cast Lumos, but Graces stopped him. "We need it to be dark."

"I can't even see you," Neville argued, unsure of what all this was about, but knowing he didn't like it so far.

Graces moved closer to him so he could make out her silhouette.

"Your eyes will adjust, give them a moment." Neville sighed, but didn't argue. Arguing with her was usually useless anyways. "Better?" Graces asked, moving her arms around his neck.

"Almost," Neville smiled, leaning in and brushing his lips to hers. "Now it's better."

Graces smiled against his lips and muttered something about him being such a sap.

"So, back to the drawing board with Pomfrey?" Neville asked sadly, tightening his hold around her waist.

"No, no," Graces giggled. "I'm so drugged that there is no way I will be having nightmares."

"Then why am I here?" Neville frowned.

"You don't want to be here?" Graces pouted cutely, nudging her nose against his neck.

"I didn't say that," Neville smirked. "Just curious as to why."

"You'll see," Graces whispered, taking him by the hand and turning him around so they were leaving the barn. Neville wanted to protest, but Graces was already dragging him away from the castle and barn.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Neville didn't like that answer considering Graces was walking the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"I don't like this," Neville murmured, trying to pull the blonde back. "Graces, the forest is dangerous, if you think—"

"Please, if it was so dangerous why on earth would my brother have been sent in there with Hagrid, who doesn't even have a wand, for detention."

"You said yourself that the magical world purposely puts us all in danger," Neville pointed out. "You gave me some lecture on teaching responsibility."

"My gods, Longbottom, must you remember everything I say?" Graces asked, turning and looking at him with a grin.

"If I didn't I suspect I would be in a world of trouble."

Graces laughed in agreement and began moving faster. When Neville tried to protest she pretended she didn't hear him and when he stopped and insisted they go back, she began running away from him, causing him to run after her.

"Graces! Graces, stop!" Neville called, trying to catch up. He silently was grateful that he had been working out or he wouldn't have been able to chase her like this. Graces was incredibly fast. She sprinted for a good quarter mile and didn't even seem out of breath. She made a sharp turn into the forest and Neville somehow managed to go faster, now scared out of his mind something was going to happen. But right as he made the same turn Graces did he stopped.

It was a clearing, a clearing with a giant pillow that he assumed used to be a boulder, and blankets. There was a thermos beside the little makeshift bungalow and when he looked up the sky was illuminated by stars.

"You said you've never stargazed," Graces explained, clutching folded blanket to her. "The other day when I was telling you about how my mum would take us, you said you've never stargazed just for fun. Only when it was required for class." Graces smiled proudly and gestured to the area. "So I decided to take you stargazing."

Neville didn't say anything and he was still looking around like he couldn't believe what was happening, but Graces could tell he was happy. In a few minutes he would smile and when he did she was going to take his hand and lead him to the blankets on the ground. And as though on cue, Neville did just that.

"It takes at least half an hour for your eyes to adjust enough in the darkness for you to really be able to see stars and it takes 2 hours more for you to get the full effect," Graces explained, leading Neville to the makeshift bed. "That's why I wouldn't let you turn on the light. Why we had to remain in darkness."

"You could have just told me," Neville pointed out, leaning against the giant boulder pillow and spreading the blanket Graces had been holding out onto both of them.

"I didn't want to ruin the surprise," Graces smiled, looking up at all the diamonds twinkling in the sky. "Isn't it the most breathtaking thing you've ever seen?" she breathed.

"No. Not even close."

Graces blushed at Neville's words and stare, and nervously tucked her hair behind her ears. She really wanted to kiss him. Kiss him slowly so that he would kiss her back with the same tenderness and lay her down under the stars. She wanted to give herself over to the feelings she was having for him, but at the same time she was now becoming frightened of those feelings. Before she could tell herself that anything done with Neville was just casual, but it didn't feel that way now. If she slept with him now she would want many things that were just impossible for them to have together. If she went to the safe house, if her family was done being in this war she could think of having things with him, but not now.

Wanting to actually get to know Neville was the worst and best decision she'd ever made, second to this stargazing idea. She now realized this was too romantic and intimate. She had just been so excited that she justified it to herself that she was only doing something nice. Something nice for the boy that was saving Draco and soothing her worries after bad dreams. Something nice for her best friend.

_You wanted something intimate. Don't be a child, take responsibility for what you did. You want this._

"I brought some hot chocolate," she informed, moving away from Neville's stares and getting the thermos. "I thought it would warm us up a bit."

"You just wanted liquid chocolate," Neville laughed.

"Always," Graces grinned, opening up the cylinder and pouring them each a mug. "It's delicious. Plus it's tradition. My parents always bring hot chocolate for stargazing."

"And you always sat on your dad's lap and Draco always sat on your mum's," Neville recited.

Graces smiled at Neville's memory.

"Until Draco decided he was a big boy," Graces murmured.

"And then of course I bet you followed suit."

"No way," Graces laughed. "I am a total daddy's girl, Longbottom. I was happy as a clam having my father hold me on his lap. I would lay against his chest and he would tuck me in his coat with him. I didn't even need a warming charm," Graces smiled, getting lost in the memory. "And he smelled good. My mom buys him this cologne from Greece, it's the only one that doesn't affect me allergy-wise. He's been wearing it since I was three, so yeah... he smells good," Graces trailed off, remembering that scent and missing her father.

"You _are_ a daddy's girl," Neville chuckled.

"If you smelled my father you would understand," Graces grinned, tilting her head and looking at Neville.

"Oh yes, that will be the first thing that comes to mind if I see your father again," Neville deadpanned. "'Hello Mr. Malfoy, mind if I have a sniff? Your daughter told me that you smell good."

Graces immediately began laughing as she pictured her father's reaction to such a statement, causing her to mention that she should just buy a bottle for him.

"My gods that would be creepy," Neville shivered. "You want me to smell like your dad? I don't know what part of that I find more unnerving. You wanting me to smell like him or me smelling like Lucius Malfoy."

"I didn't think of it that way," Graces laughed. "Honest, I didn't."

"Sure, sure," Neville breathed, sending Graces a sly smile so she knew he was kidding. "Enough about your daddy issues, tell me about the constellations."

Graces grinned and leaned back against Neville as she showcased her favorite constellations and the stories her mother had told her about them. The night air chilled each of them, but neither cared. When she became cold she moved closer to Neville until she was eventually leaning between his legs and using the middle of his chest as a pillow as she continued to talk about the stars in the dark sky.

"I wish it was summer," Graces sighed. "Scorpius would be in the sky. That's Draco's favorite constellation. He loves that story."

"You could still tell me it." Neville suggested.

"No," Graces smiled, looking up at where the constellation would have been. "My mother never tells the story if the constellation isn't in the sky. You have to wait until it appears. That's what makes it special. Besides, I've told enough stories tonight."

Graces could feel the vibrations of Neville's laugh against her and trembled at the sound. She pulled the blankets up closer to her and tried to focus her mind on something else.

"It's so beautiful, isn't it? When I was little I used to sneak out of my room at night with my broomstick and try to touch it."

"I'll never know how you've managed to live this long when you do insane things like that with your broom," Neville muttered.

"Safety charms," Graces laughed. "My parents placed height restrictions on my broom. Broke my heart, I wanted to be up there with the stars."

"Maybe you should be an astronaut."

"A what?" Graces asked, turning and facing Neville.

"An astronaut," Neville repeated. "They're muggles that go into space. They've even been to the moon."

"You don't actually believe that rubbish do you?" Graces frowned. "Come on, Longbottom, they didn't go to the moon. None of that was true. A population of muggles pretended they were able to go to the moon to scare another population. None of it was real."

Neville frowned for a moment before patiently asking why she believed it couldn't be true.

"They're muggles," Graces said as though this were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And you believe because of that they couldn't go to the moon," Neville summarized, still looking at her serenely. Graces didn't know what to say. She had been told that they never went there. Her father told her it was just muggle propaganda, a scare tactic revolving around another mindless muggle war.

"If they went to the moon," Graces began slowly. "How did they do it? They don't have magic... so how did they do it? We haven't done it, so how did they?"

"It's-it's complicated, but they built this device, this spaceship and they did all kinds of math and figured out how to get this ship to the moon and back." Graces frowned and wondered how that could be true. Neville maintained it was, he told her they had photos and all kinds of proof, leaving Graces with this deep seed of doubt about what she had been told for so long. It still didn't make sense, she didn't understand how they did it without magic, but she couldn't get it out of her head.

"Graces," Neville said gently, turning her chin so she was looking at his eyes. "They did it. And they've done other amazing things too."

"Like what?"

"Uh, well, you know polio?" Graces became very still. She knew polio exceptionally well. Not many people knew, but her father needed his cane because of the virus. He had been just an infant when he contracted polio and his parents had caught it too late to prevent some damage. In their world they were able to treat polio through a series of potions, more often no damage was done because it was caught during the fever stage, but her father's polio virus was aggressive and her grandparents had been preoccupied and missed the early signs. By the time he was on the potions his leg had suffered irreversible damage. It wasn't something her father talked about, nor was it something that he allowed word to spread about.

"I know what polio is," Graces stated, thinking of her father's leg.

"Well, muggles they have this thing that prevents someone from ever getting it. They don't treat it, they prevent it all together. They've completely eradicated the virus in some countries."

"They prevent it," Graces whispered, frowning at the thought.

"Yes, as long as you have this vaccine you could be in direct contact with the virus and not get it," Neville explained, clearly excited that Graces seemed so interested.

"That's-that's incredible," Graces breathed, thinking of Octavian. "How do you get one of these?"

"St. Mungos has them, they often give you the vaccine when you're an infant. I have mine, so I'll never get polio." Neville paused for a minute and stared at her as though he was realizing something. "A lot of purebloods won't give their children the vaccine," Neville began slowly. "You probably don't have it. Actually, I know you don't have it. When the vaccination came your grandfather was one of the people not wanting to allow it into St. Mungos. They taught us about it in Muggle Studies. But since it's been here in our world, we don't really have polio epidemics except in pureblood circles."

"That doesn't surprise me," Graces deadpanned, laying back down on Neville and staring up at the stars not wanting to look at Neville as she contemplated everything she was raised to believe. If what Neville was saying was true her father could have never gotten polio. If her grandfather had allowed him that vaccine he would never have gotten it.

"It just doesn't make sense to me," Graces whispered. "How can they do that when they don't have magic?"

"We had a potion, a way to treat it when our children got it, so we didn't continue forward with trying to get rid of the virus. Our children weren't dying from it... theirs were. So they worked relentlessly for a way to completely prevent it when they realized they would never be able to treat it once someone got it. They're just as smart as we are, just they have different tools."

Different tools. Graces laid there wondering about this. She knew what electricity was, she had seen it. Those lights that the muggles had in their homes. She saw the lamp on Alethea's desk when they went to get her. She had used a telephone herself too. And she saw the things Dr. Harris did.

"Where are you?" Neville asked, pulling her closer to him and kissing her head.

"I'm in your arms," Graces smiled. "In your arms and under a blanket of stars wishing I had packed more hot chocolate."

Neville chuckled and then proceeded to dig through his right pocket for a moment before dangling a chocolate frog in front of her.

"Longbottom, you're a prince!" Graces exclaimed, taking the candy in hand.

"Does a prince get a kiss?" Graces grinned and turned around to kiss Neville chastly on the lips. Neville didn't seem to mind the small peck, if anything he seemed perfectly happy with it.

"What else do you have in your pockets," Graces asked curiously, reaching her hand in and seeing for herself causing Neville to laugh gallantly while playfully trying to push her away.

"Ah-ha! More chocolate!" Graces cheered. "Why do you keep chocolate in your pocket?"

"Cause they earn me kisses," Neville teased, tickling her sides so she would squirm.

Graces rolled her eyes at his antics, before relaxing back against his chest. It was as she was opening the other bar of chocolate that she realized she had grabbed a droobles wrapper from Neville's pocket as well.

"Do you have any gum?" Graces asked, closing her hand around the wrapper, so Neville didn't see. She didn't know why, but she had this odd feeling that this wrapper was significant.

"No, sorry. I don't really like gum."

"You don't like gum," Graces frowned, her hand still tight around the wrapper.

"Nope."

Graces bit her lower lip for a moment. She wasn't sure if she should ask. They had become much closer in the past few weeks. They talked a lot about their interests and things of that sort, but Neville still didn't share a lot of personal things with her.

_He said that he would share with you. He's said before he considers you and him to be close. Just ask about the wrappers._

"Why do you always have droobles blowing gum wrappers on you, if you don't like gum?" Graces asked quietly, making sure to keep her eyes staring forward so she wasn't looking at Neville.

The longer Neville went without answering the more nervous she became. Finally she tilted her head so she could look up at him from where he was laying. Neville stared down at her as she looked up at him. He had a slight frown to his face, as he looked at her, but he offered no answers. Hesitantly, Graces opened her hand to show the wrapper which Neville gingerly took and placed back in his pocket.

"My mother gives me gum wrappers when I visit her," he explained, his voice completely even. "She's always done this. I have no idea why she does it. I think she has this idea that I like them or something, but no matter what when I visit she has gumwrappers for me."

"She gives you gum wrappers?" Graces frowned, unable to make sense of the action.

"She's mad," Neville whispered, a tinge of disgust in his voice. "Like I said I have no idea why she does it. It's just the actions of a mad woman."

"But you keep the wrappers," Graces clarified, a slight bit confused by Neville's callous words about his mother. "You keep them, even carry one around."

Graces watched Neville's adam's apple move down as he swallowed some of his emotions before he nodded.

"So... they must have meaning to you," Graces interpreted.

"There is no meaning," Neville murmured.

"Then why keep them?"

"Because I've been doing it since I was a child," Neville rasped. "I used to believe she did this because she loved me and it was her way of showing that. When I had a bad day I would—it's just an old habit," Neville finished tightly. "They don't mean anything. She just likes to give them to me."

"I'm sure she does love you," Graces offered, placing her hand on Neville's cheek. "You're her son. I'm sure she loves you very much."

"She doesn't know who I am," Neville stated bitterly. "She has no idea who I am. It's impossible to love someone if you have no inkling of an idea as to who they are."

"I go in and the first half hour of my visit is sitting very still and just smiling kindly at her, so she doesn't become skittish and try to hide. My gran she is fine with. My gran can sit there talking to her holding her hand, brushing her hair, even helping her dress so she is wearing something more presentable, but me? I have to sit quietly."

"What happens after you do that for a while?" Graces asked, a hole growing in the pit of her stomach as she watched Neville's kind eyes turn so vacant.

"She'll examine me," Neville said hollowly. "She-she will usually touch my face, my hair and want to look at my hands. She won't hold them, she just looks at them. When I was little she would do more. She treated me like a doll mostly. She wanted to hold me in her lap and she would play with my hair. My gran had to supervise her cause sometimes she would hurt me. Not badly, just pull my hair too much or begin to frighten me. When I was little I wanted to hug her and things like that and, well, sometimes I would try to and she would just flip out. Start screaming and running away. Sometimes she would even try and hurt herself and—" Neville paused and seemed to be trying to suppress a specific memory. "I just have to sit and not make any movements. She's very fragile. Sometimes I talk to her, but it's clear she's not really hearing what I say. She just continues on in her own mind. As long as I don't make any movements to touch her and keep my hands on my knees it's generally an incident free visit."

Incident free. Graces was sure she looked horrified, but Neville just sat patiently. He didn't seem inclined to address what he just told her in a new light to make it seem not as bad. This was what it was and Graces could tell he didn't want pretend it was any other way.

"When does she give you the wrappers?" she asked, unsure why she even wanted to know.

"At the end of the visit generally," Neville answered. "Sometimes she gives me one after examining me, like she is deeming me okay, but usually it's at the end of the visit. She kind of hides behind my gran as she gives it to me. Anyways, she gives me them."

"She hides behind your gran?"

"She doesn't know me," Neville repeated, giving Graces a look that urged her to understand that fact.

"What about your father?" Graces asked, praying that Frank Longbottom's condition was somehow better than his wife's.

"He's vacant," Neville sighed. "He just stares forward blankly. He doesn't interact at all. He needs round the clock care. He doesn't go to the loo, eat or do anything unless someone does it for him. He will just lay in bed staring at the ceiling for hours or sit in a chair staring forward. He's dead, but his body is alive."

Neville looked down to see Graces had covered her mouth in horror. He sat up and moved to touch her, but decided against it. This wasn't the kind of thing people wanted to hear about. The world wasn't ready to deal with the mentally ill. It was too much for the general population. Out of sight out of mind was their society's method of dealing with it. But it was too late now. He had told her and now she knew.

"Longbottom, I-I'm so sorry. I—"

"Don't be sorry," Neville sighed heavily. "This is just how it is. It's been this way my whole life."

"Still, they're your parents," Graces breathed. "I imagine it would be so hard to see people you love like that."

Neville nodded his head, but remained silent. He wondered if he could tell Graces this. If she would look differently at him for what he was about to say.

"I sometimes wish they didn't survive," Neville whispered, his whole chest vibrating with his admission. "I wish I could say it's because I think that it's what they would want, but it's not. It's what I would want." Neville took a moment and swallowed down a sob. He wanted to say this, he wanted to say it all out loud, but he didn't want to cry. "It's awful visiting them. Everything about it. Even the wing. People don't want to remember them or anyone else in that ward, so it's just depressing there. I hate it. Curtains separate us from the other patients. It's just all so awful. I hate going there. I hate it and then I hate myself for not wanting to go."

"They're my parents and I don't want to see them. I go, though, and I will go for the rest of their lives," Neville swore, wanting Graces not to see him as some monster that would abandon his family. "I just feel obligated to love them. I love them, but it's cause I feel like I have to. They're so—" _don't say pathetic_ "—defenseless," Neville settled. "There will never be a day in my life that I won't have to worry about them."

"You know they did amazing things before, they helped a lot of people and fought in the war and now my gran has to raise hell just to ensure my father doesn't get bed sores. Or to make sure someone walks him on a daily basis, because the wing is so desperately understaffed. It gets no money really, and there is usually only one nurse on duty. And it's not her fault that my father has no muscle, or that he gets bed sores. She is busy chasing around crazy people and hunting down Lockhart when he escapes the ward!" Neville hadn't realized that his rant had turned into shouting, until Graces was holding his hands down and trying to soothe him.

Shame, embarrassment, anger and a whole onslaught of emotions began to all rage in Neville.

"I'm sorry," Neville sniffed. "I-I think I should go. It's late anyways."

"No, stay," Graces insisted. "You're upset."

"No, it's okay," Neville promised, feeling sicker by the moment. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Graces wined. "You're shaking. Stay."

"I'm cold," Neville lied. "More reason to go back inside."

"Don't lie to me," Graces pleaded. "I tell you all the time when I'm upset. Don't lie to me."

Neville nodded his head lowly and closed his eyes. Graces could tell he was on the brink of tears and for whatever reason he seemed to be internalizing all this as some flaw in himself. She was doing her best not to peek in his head, she had gone in a few times as he was talking and knew immediately it was a mistake. Neville would not be happy if she viewed his most intimate memories and feelings about his parents. And for some reason she had yet to find out, he hated himself a great deal for his feelings.

"It's okay," Graces whispered, gently running her hand behind the back of his head. "It's okay."

"No it's not," Neville spat. "You love your mother and father unconditionally. You worship the ground they walk on and I wish mine were dead. I'm a horrible son."

"No you're not," Graces cried, throwing her arms around Neville and holding him tight, despite him trying to move away. "You're not in any way a horrible son. It's not fair to compare. My parents were parents. Yours weren't. You have no reason to feel bad. They _are_ a burden and don't you let anyone tell you different. It is what it is. Anyone who says that you shouldn't think of them that way is full of dragon dung."

"They were good people," Neville rasped. "They were good people and—"

"They were," Graces agreed. "They did a lot of great things, but you never knew those people. What they are now is what you know, because that is who they are now. This is who they have been to you as parents."

"It's not their fault though. It's not their fault and I—"

"And it's not your fault that this is how you feel about them," Graces snapped, pulling away and making Neville meet her eyes. "You said you loved them. Yes, it's out of obligation, but the point is you love them. They are not going to be left in there to rot away with no visitors, because their son is going to visit them. You have nothing to feel bad about. You are doing what you are supposed to do. Who else visits them? I bet the people that owe them their lives don't do what you do."

"I owe them my life," Neville deadpanned.

"No you don't. They chose to have you and they chose to have dangerous careers."

Graces knew she shouldn't, but she found herself peeking again into Neville's head as he sat there mulling over what she said. She saw a little boy excitedly putting a fey bracelet on a bed while a white haired woman hid in the corner. She watched as a young Neville sat on the other side of the room waiting for her to take it. It was heartbreaking even in memory. Alice Longbottom slowly tip toed to the bed and snatched the bracelet up to examine back in her corner. Neville was practically on his toes waiting for her to have a reaction, looking over at his gran again and again as though begging to be able to go over to his mother. But his gran shook her head and snapped her fingers for him to calm down.

Graces exited Neville's mind, not wanting him to sense her presence. She suddenly realized she couldn't do what she's been doing anymore. She couldn't shy away from Neville when things became too intimate between them. His whole life he had been made to wait patiently for affection, forced to sit quietly and wait for others. And that's what he was doing with her. He waited. He didn't demand the affection he wanted. He waited for her to give it to him. She always wondered why Neville stuck around despite her shying away and changing things between them, and now she knew. This was a normal thing for him.

_I really need to figure out what I want,_ Graces thought, looking at Neville sadly. She had always known this wasn't enough for him, but she had convinced herself that what they had was fine. Neville said he was happy, but now that she knew more about what he faced with his mother she realized why he felt this was okay. This was just what he knew. She couldn't be someone doing that to him. They were either going to be friends or they were going to be more. It was as simple as that and she needed to make that choice. No matter what, she wanted to be his friend, but she couldn't continue kissing him and carrying on they way they had been. No matter what, they had to be kept a secret, and she wasn't saying she was going to ever formally court with him, but he needed something more honest. He deserved something more stable. What they were now was confusing and she worried that if all Neville's relationships were this way he would never demand a healthy one.

"Graces," Neville whispered. "I really want to be alone." Graces at once opened her mouth to protest, but Neville raised a hand and silenced her. "I need to be alone," he maintained. "I know you feel better when you have someone to comfort you, but I don't. I was raised to self-soothe and-and this just makes me feel more uncomfortable and I can't allow myself to feel what I need to feel with you right here. I just need to be alone."

"Why not with me here?" Graces asked, not willing to allow Neville to go.

"Because I can't," Neville said tightly. "I just can't. I'm sure when you were little you were held tight when you cried and your mother would murmur soothing words, so when you're sad now that's what you need to be comforted. And I do not mind in the least doing that," Neville said hurriedly. "But it's not what I need. I didn't really have that, so when I'm sad I just want to be alone."

"I don't care if you cry," Graces reassured, pleading with Neville to stay.

"I care," Neville declared pointedly, clearly trying to suppress his frustration. "I care a great deal. I don't want to sit here with you crying over my mummy and daddy like I'm a child."

"That's not at all what I'll think," Graces continued desperately.

"It's what I think!"

Graces moved away as Neville hurried to stand up. She felt like this was very similar to the time she and Draco tried to put Loki in a box. The bird did not want to stay in the box and Neville did not want to stay with her.

"I'm sorry," Neville blurted, adjusting his coat. "Tonight was wonderful, amazing even. I loved sitting here with you and hearing the stories and talking. I really liked it. I just-I'm having a hard time with this."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Neville murmured, looking back over at her clearly ashamed of everything that had happened. "I-I was going to tell you. I really was. In fact I told you tonight because I promised myself that the next time it came up I would be open with you. I-I should have waited. I wasn't ready."

"This is fine," Graces promised, standing up. "You don't have to be put together when you talk about this. It's fine."

It was clear Neville didn't view any of this as fine though.

"Please lay back down with me. Please." Neville again declined. He kissed her gently on the lips thanked her again for the evening and said he would walk her to her dorm. "Let me stay with you tonight," Graces blurted out, not at all thinking.

Neville frowned and the suggestion, but waited for her to continue.

"I-I," _I'm an idiot... Such an idiot. Good job. What happened to really deciding?_ "I could stay with you in your dorm." _Stupid. Stupid. STUPID!_

"You're offering to sleep with me," Neville deadpanned, searching her eyes and seeming to find her hesitation.

"Well, I could just stay until you fall asleep," Graces offered, blushing already with her panic.

Neville let out a soft laugh and looked down for a moment before leaning in and kissing her sweetly.

"You are an amazing girl, Graces Malfoy," Neville said quietly, kissing her again for what seemed like good measure. "But I don't think you want that. It's very kind of you to offer though."

Graces opened her mouth to protest, but Neville put a finger against her lips.

"I'm going to stop you from telling me that you want this or some other nonsense like that. You feel bad, and I really appreciate that you want to make me feel better, but Graces you coming and laying with me for the night and then shying away because it frightened you will make me feel a lot worse."

"Like how when your mum shies away from you." Graces immediately, wished she didn't say anything. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Well I guess if I am going to poke fun of your daddy issues you get to mention my mummy issues," Neville interrupted offering her a wry smile.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know why I said that. I was just—"

"Graces, it's fine. You're wrong though. There isn't any connection with my relationships with you or anyone that is like the relationship I have with my mum, because quite frankly my mother and I don't have one."

Graces didn't feel like Neville believed what he was saying. If he really believed that him and his mother had no kind of relationship why did he keep the gum wrappers, why did he seem so ashamed of his feelings. She had a feeling that Neville cared more for his parents then he was willing to admit to himself.

"Do you think she misses you when you're at school and can't visit often?" Graces asked, not able to stop herself from letting this go.

"Sometimes, I think she recognizes me," Neville frowned, thinking back to memories. "She has no idea who I am and I can't just go up to her, but every once in a while I think there is some recognition that she's met me before."

"When she allows you to get close do you think she's happy you're there?"

"Yes."

"Do you miss them when you can't see them for awhile?"

"I think I miss the people I imagine they would have been everyday," Neville said slowly. "It took me a long time to realize that. I think I spent a good portion of my life viewing them as what I had been told they were, then one day I started viewing them as they are now. Who they were was taken. Who they may have been as parents is long gone now, I just have to accept things for how they are. I used to count down the days until I could see them, but now... Now I just feel guilty if I don't see them often... I don't know if I miss them in the conventional sense."

"But-but you do love them?" Graces asked, staring at Neville's kind eyes. "I mean you must. I remember you tried to fight with my brother when he made jokes about the insane at St. Mungos."

"I already said I loved them."

"I think you love them outside of the obligation, Longbottom," Graces said softly, placing her hand on his. "I can tell."

"Or you just want to believe that I'm not so callous."

"You're not."

Graces could tell Neville thought she was wrong, but he didn't correct her. He kissed her cheek and helped her up from the ground and quietly packed the blankets and the thermos. She disillusioned them and Neville took her hand and began leading her to the castle. Not a word was spoken until Neville kissed her goodbye at the opening to the Slytherin common room. She had offered one last time to go with him to his dorm, she knew him being in hers would be an awful idea, but Neville again declined.

Graces laid in bed and thought Neville's choice was for the best. In reality that would have been a very big mistake. She thought about what would have happened if she spent the night and knew without a doubt that she would have slept with him, something she still was unsure if she wanted. Now that she knew about his mother more, she felt that sleeping with him before she was ready to stay in that kind of relationship was doing both of them a great disservice. And yet, now she wondered what exactly she did want with Neville. She didn't want to be just friends, she wanted to be more, and she knew that in some way she always must have wanted more, but the problem now was how could they ever have more.

Draco was now front and center in her mind, followed closely by Thomas and Octavian. She would never in a million years allow them to be hurt. She knew she and Neville could never be openly together, court or marry, but she also knew that it was becoming harder to see where the lines were that separated him from getting under her skin. She didn't want Neville to be just for fun, but she also didn't want him to be too serious. It was such a fine line and while she knew it would be best to not walk the line at all, she found herself contemplating the odds of her being able to do it.


	59. Chapter 59

"That looks like it will be an interesting project," Draco said, looking over his sister's shoulder. Graces hummed a reply and continued to scribble some notes down, clearly a little too invested in what she was doing to really pay her brother any mind. "Will you be able to have it done in time?"

"With the amount of gold I am going to throw at it I will," Graces muttered, picking up a few other envelopes and rolling her eyes as she began dictating her replies. "Have you started yours?" Draco let his silence answer for him. "Mother will be very upset," Graces sang. "This is her favorite part of the Christmas season."

"You could do mine for me," Draco suggested, sitting down next to his better half and grinning.

"I can't. I'm already doing two this year. I can't do mine and yours. It would be too much."

"Why are you doing two?" Draco frowned, now taking a closer look at the invoices his sister had on the desk.

"Well, father can't very well be doing one, now can he? And as you are aware I now have that settlement, so I have this extra gold that I don't need. I figured I would put it to good use." Graces looked over at him for a moment, scoffing at him to stop pouting.

"I really don't have time for this this year," Draco pleaded, shaking Graces arm so that she had to stop writing her letter. "Please."

"I'm already doing all your homework," Graces protested. Draco could tell she was going to break though, his sister never was good at telling him no.

"It would take a lot of weight off my shoulders," Draco said softly, knowing that he had just closed the deal.

"I am extremely upset with you. This one was going to take up a huge portion of my time, my other one was almost done. I planned ahead and did it practically months ago. Now, I'm going to be stretched thin doing yours."

"I love you," Draco cheered, kissing her cheek. "You're the best."

"I expect a really ridiculously expensive Christmas present," Graces grumbled, angrily putting away her papers. "And I also expect you to decide what you want to be done. I refuse to do the whole thing for you."

"Just add to what I did last year." Graces made some sound of frustration causing Draco to quickly tell her he would think about it AND give her more coin for her own projects. This seemed to make her less upset and Draco breathed a sigh of relief when Graces went back to just muttering under her breath.

"Are you coming to breakfast before class?" she asked, though Draco was taking the question as more of an accusal with the snap that was in her voice.

"Yes." It was originally going to be a no, but Draco decided that it was best to not make his sister any angrier when she just agreed to do him a favor.

"Good, I'm sick of you skipping breakfast," Graces scolded getting up from the desk she was working at and swinging her bag over her shoulder. "And don't think I'm not aware you never sleep in your bed anymore."

"I'm sleeping."

"I don't believe you. You look like Lupin."

"Thanks," Draco deadpanned.

Graces eyed him for a moment before going on a long rant about how he was destroying her nerves and that if he didn't start taking care of himself she was going to make herself sick with worry. Draco nodded and made empty promises of getting more sleep and making it to more meals, but he knew there was no way he was going to be able to do any of what she wanted.

"Morning, Thomas," Draco greeted, taking a seat across from the younger boy, who nodded his greetings. "Pass the sausage, please."

"Draco, are you listening to me?" Graces demanded, taking a seat across from him.

"Not at the moment, no," Draco hummed, putting a few links on his plate. "I really hate being nagged."

Thomas snickered at Draco's words, causing him to get his arm pinched by Graces who gave him a withering glare.

"I want you sleeping, Draco," Graces screeched. "I am sick of having the same arguments over and over again." Draco rolled his eyes and said he was sleeping, but he would make sure to rest more in order to get his sister off his back. Graces didn't seem to believe him, but she allowed the subject to drop-be it for exhaustion or frustrating- before turning to Thomas and saying she was going to speak to the muggle about Octavian seeing a healer next monday.

"He's n-not sick," Thomas frowned.

"Don't talk without silencing charms around us," Graces reminded. "And no he's not, but I want to make sure he's adjusting well. Check-ups are very important. Also, I want him seeing our private healer. I don't like the one he has at St. Mungo's and I don't like the idea of his health records being there. Ours are kept private, except for here at Hogwarts where we allow disclosure. I think it would be best for Octavian's to be private as well."

Thomas looked over at Draco, clearly at a loss as to what was happening and why Graces was in such a mood, but Draco just shrugged and nodded for him to just go along with it.

"You know what, I think it's best I be the one with Octavian for his visit. Maybe he should come here again this weekend. I like both of you here anyways, maybe him coming here on the weekend should be regular, I can't get to you when you're at your home. I think I'll owl our healer to come here Saturday morning."

"H-here?" Thomas asked, his voice cracking. "You w-want Oct-tavian h-here? Again?"

Thomas quickly shut his mouth as Graces glared at him from her seat. Draco felt like he should help Thomas in some way, tell Graces the muggle or Octavian were perfectly capable of handling a check up, but after this morning he decided it best to stay on her sweet side.

"I'll owl the healer for you," Draco offered, shrugging his shoulders at Thomas' frustration.

"He's m-my s-son," Thomas mumbled, pushing his food around his plate.

"He's as much my son as he is yours," Graces clipped, taking a bite of her sausage. Thomas scowled at her statement and Draco even was at a loss for Graces' behavior. "He has no mother," Graces pointed out rolling her eyes. "I'm his godmother, so since he has no mother I am the one taking on the role."

Draco exchanged a look with the younger boy sitting across from him and hesitantly began approaching Graces on the subject.

"Graces, I know you love Thomas and Octavian both, but parenting with someone is very... _intimate_ ," Draco settled on, feeling exceptionally bad as Thomas turned bright red and buried his face in his hands. "And I think Thomas, while he does need your help, would rather he be the main and only parent..."

"I don't think Thomas is ready for that," Graces scoffed, clearly not caring what either boy thought or wanted. "Octavian adores me. We've bonded. A child needs a mother anyways and I want the job. It's settled."

"I'm sure in time Thomas will provide Octavian with a mother," Draco stated pointedly, causing Thomas to go from groaning in his palms to laying his forehead on the table.

"Oh yes, won't that be grand. Not only will Octavian have to wait till he is four to have a mother, but it will probably be some bimbo like Wendelin!"

Wendelin, who was sitting just a few feet down from them looked over at the sound of her name being in the same sentence as bimbo. Both Malfoy twins glared at her challengingly until she blushed and just looked away.

"She's doesn't even have a spine," Graces scoffed going back to her breakfast.

"Thomas, have you met Graces? Your child's mother," Draco deadpanned, knowing full well that this battle was lost. Thomas groaned and made a lude gesture at him before turning back to Graces and arguing about him having Octavian stay at Hogwarts on weekends. In the end Graces won. She listed off five benefits to every one of his complaints and she even offered to be the one to approach Snape about it all. Draco had no doubt that Snape wouldn't care so long as she promised to keep the child away from him, so it soon became settled that Octavian would be at Hogwarts on the weekends.

"You wanted him around magic more anyways," Graces pointed out, standing and picking up her bag.

"P-people are g-going to s-stare at m-me," Thomas groaned. "I'll b-be that k-kid with a k-kid."

"People already know, Thomas," Graces reminded sadly. "Octavian is a part of your life. You need to integrate him in it and not just leave to your home on the weekends and that be the extent of you being a father. You want other people to bond with him. It takes more than just one person to raise a child."

"I h-have y-you and D-draco and m-my aunt."

"You don't have me and Draco when he's at your home. We don't leave Hogwarts. This is better, Thomas," Graces promised, resting an encouraging hand on his shoulder. "And I'll help you out when he's here. It's going to be good for everyone. Now, I have to get to class. Don't worry about Snape and bring Octavian here for the weekend tonight."

Draco scowled as his sister dipped down and gave Thomas a quick peck on the cheek. He hadn't realized how affectionate she had become with Thomas and wasn't sure if he felt it appropriate. First she's basically claiming Octavian as her child and now she's being quite free with her affections and Thomas. It wasn't very like her. She didn't like giving affection out in the open. He stared at Thomas as Graces left and for the first time wondered what role she wanted with the kid.

"Thomas," Draco began sternly. "Nothing is going on between you and Graces, right?"

Thomas snorted out some of the pumpkin juice he was drinking and Draco took his moment of weakness as an opportunity to take a peek in his head.

"Right, good," Draco nodded. "Nice chat, Thomas. Don't forget to owl the squib to pack for Octavian's weekend since he will be here."

Thomas was left still sputtering to regain his breath, idly wondering if being this involved with the Malfoys was always going to be this complicated.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Graces inwardly groaned as she saw Hannah over at their desk talking to Neville. Since Neville had "asked her out" and they no longer saw one another during the day outside of classes he had started spending more time with his friends. In some ways it was a good thing. His relationship with Hermione was now mended. He and his roommates always seemed to be having a good laugh. He and Luna regularly could be found in the courtyard reading together and talking... and then there was Hannah. Neville apparently felt the need to rekindle his friendship with the Hufflepuff as well, something Graces wished he had done without.

"That's great, Hannah."

Graces reminded herself to keep her cool as she approached Hannah and Neville talking.

"So you'll come?"

_Come? Come where?_

"Yeah, of course," Neville smiled. Graces held her breath from screaming her outrage at Hannah getting one of Neville's kind smiles and agreeing to go somewhere.

"Great!" Hannah cheered. "You know when it is, right?"

"You're in my way," Graces clipped rudely, slamming her books down on the table and glaring at the Hufflepuff.

Neville shot her a disapproving look before he himself moved so Hannah could just stand in his spot, causing Graces to glare at him angrily.

"Now-now, Malfoy, she's not in your spot. You have to play nice."

Graces gritted her teeth and began setting up the desk, pointedly not looking at Neville or Hannah as they talked.

"Anyways, I, umm, you and Ernie could meet you know. That way you won't have to sit alone."

"I don't think Ernie is my biggest fan at the moment," Neville pointed out awkwardly, referring to how angry the other boy was that he had chosen to ask Graces out over Hannah, one of his closest friends.

"I'll talk to him."

"I would rather sit alone."

"No, I'll talk to him."

Graces could tell from the silence that Neville was not keen on that idea and peeked up just in time to see him begrudgingly nod.

"Excellent!" Hannah squeaked, bouncing slightly so that her braided pigtails hopped a bit off her shoulders. "I better get to my desk. Talk to you later?"

Neville nodded and finally the other girl was gone. Graces fumed silently in her chair. She knew that today was definitely not the day to get upset with Neville, but she was having difficulty burying the feeling welling up in the pit of her stomach.

"You have nothing to be jealous about," Neville whispered, taking his seat and pretending to look through some notes.

"I'm not jealous," Graces snapped, deliberately unclenching her hands. "Jealousy is what someone feels when someone has something they want. Abbott does not have anything that I want. I'm possessive. There's a difference."

"Again, you have nothing to be worried about," Neville chuckled, placing his notes down and grabbing his book to hide his smile.

"Where are you going with her anyways?" Graces accused angrily.

"She invited me to the holiday choir performance," Neville explained, turning and watching Graces for a reaction. "She apparently got a solo and invited me. I agreed to go because she is my friend and because I was already planning on attending considering a certain Slytherin is also in the choir." Graces was silent for a moment as she realized that Neville was in reality going for her. "I will so enjoy hearing you sing something besides Madonna."

"You shut your mouth about Madonna," Graces quipped, trying hard not to smile at him. "I refuse to hear your blasphemy so early in the morning." Neville grinned and then faked a bit of a coughing spell to cover his laugh. It felt good that Neville was going to be there. She hadn't expected him to come to her choir performance, and certainly was not going to ask, but now that she knew he was coming she felt really excited.

"Do you have a solo?" Neville asked, facing the front of the room and going back to his more stoic demeanor.

"A duet with Blaise," Graces informed, mirroring Neville's action of facing forward. "And I play the piano for the concert. Draco used to do that. He's a better player than me, but he's dropped out of choir this year. Abbott's solo is a muggle song so I didn't try for it. Wouldn't be appropriate," Graces added.

"I'll be sure to sit close to the piano then."

Graces looked down to try and hide her pleasure at the thought of Neville coming and sitting near her.

"You do a lot of duets with Zabini, don't you?" Neville asked, trying to be casual.

Graces shrugged, but had an idea of where this was going.

"I mean you two had a duet on Halloween, you know during the ceremony," Neville continued, clearly wanting more of an answer. "It's just interesting that you two always seem to get solos together."

"He has a very good voice," Graces smirked. "I'm sure you've noticed."

"I have... nice voice, good looks, charming—"

"Why, Longbottom, I had no idea you fancied Blaise."

Neville blushed crimson, before muttering that that was not what he was saying.

"I know what you were saying and it was just as ridiculous."

Neville narrowed his eyes at Graces breathless' laugh and for a moment her silver eyes met his and he suddenly felt silly for even beginning to feel jealous. For the rest of the class they remained silent and fell back into the roles that the rest of the school expected of them. Graces snapped at him in class when he tried to help her with the soil and he got all tangled up with his words when trying to defend his actions. She groaned when Professor Sprout announced they would be doing another elaborate assignment that required them to check their plant on the weekends and Neville just sat quietly pretending to feel awkward.

It didn't bother Neville in the slightest though, because he knew that Graces was happy to be spending time with him outside of the night and that this weekend work would allow them precious hours to be together. And he also knew that after sunset and when the rest of the castle went to sleep they would be alone together in the barn.

"I'm going to be late tonight," Graces whispered, gathering her things to leave. "I'll be there though."

"Why are you going to be late?"

"Octavian."

Neville wanted to ask more, but before he could Graces was leaving for her next class and Hannah and Hermione had came over to walk to theirs. He hid his disappointment and instead discussed with Hermione the kind of fertilizer to use for her and Hannah's project. He was just about to enter his Muggle Studies class when a first year Ravenclaw girl stopped him and handed him a letter from Professor Slughorn.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Graces tried to muffle another one of her screams as she laid on the cold table in the Potions classroom. If the potions master cared though his face showed no signs of it. He continued to carefully apply the salve on her torso. Graces could feel her skin bubbling and hissing from the salve, it was ten times worse than the salve used for the dragon scales. This was a whole different kind of burn and when Snape smoothed the skin to bring down the scarring it hurt so much she would shake.

"All this for vanity," Snape sneered, taking a damp cloth and pressing it to the area he just finished. Graces had a retort, but kept it to herself. Snape was after all doing this for her and Merlin knew he didn't have to. Even the salve he was using was his own personal brew, she looked at his dark eyes from where she was laying and nodded to his command.

"How much more?" she asked, taking a gulp of air and trying to regain herself.

"Tonight? An hour more, but it will not all be healed until February... maybe longer." Snape turned and began getting ready to apply the next bit of salve to her abdomen. Graces watched as he hunched his back over a book and made a few notes on how she was healing.

"Thank you, for doing this," Graces breathed, noting the way the older man stilled. "I know you don't have much time these days and-and I just wanted you to know I appreciate this." Graces knew he heard her, but Snape didn't give any indication of it and instead slowly began tracing her next long scar. This one hurt worse than the others before and Graces gagged as she smelled her flesh bubbling.

"Breathe through it," Snape commanded, no trace of sympathy coming to his voice as he continued on in applying the salve. "I would think by now your occlumency skills were good enough to put thoughts of pain away."

"Haven't mastered the skill," Graces choked, closing her eyes and trying to do as instructed.

"Because you are too focused on what is happening now," Snape drawled. "Think of something else. Goals, memories things to bring you away from this. Clear your mind."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I don't want you to throw up on my robes."

"No," Graces panted. "Why are you trying to heal my scars at all. I didn't ask, you offered."

"I wanted to see if this salve would work," Snape said smoothly. "I have not had the opportunity to test it on any truly gruesome scars." Graces flushed at the word gruesome, but maintained her eye contact with her godfather. She had a feeling it was more than that or maybe she just wanted to believe it was more. She found herself wondering if Snape felt bad for what happened, if he in some odd way blamed himself. She remembered the night he came to check on her the way he reached to touch her as she slept.

"I wish things were different between us," Graces whispered, remembering only one time where Snape had actually acted as a Godfather. "I wish we were more like family than strangers."

"You wouldn't want a half-blood in your family," Snape murmured bitterly, Graces' words clearly having no affect on his own feelings.

"I would want you." Snape paused and sat back giving her his full attention. Graces all of the sudden felt very exposed laying on a table half naked with her professor, but she didn't shrink away from him. "I'm sorry... for the things I've said about you... about your blood status. I know you can read minds and I'm sure you've seen what I was thinking before and-and I'm sorry for calling you a coward. I didn't know you were the one that prevented Thomas and Octavian from being killed in the first place."

"I do not care what silly little girls think of me," Snape snapped.

"I'm sure you don't," Graces quipped. "But I'm still sorry for it. I was wrong and I'm sorry."

There seemed to be a great amount of distrust between Snape and her, but Graces did her best to seem as sincere as possible. In the end nothing else was said and Snape went back to treating her. When the last cool cloth was applied she gasped in relief.

"You may dress," Snape pointed out coldly, turning his back to her as she grabbed her blouse. "Keep the cloth on for an hour and make sure to shower right when you remove it. Cold water only and no soap."

"I remember," Graces nodded.

"Next month I am going to start working on the color distortion, it shouldn't hurt, but it's not a pleasant feeling. We will do that on separate days from when we do the salve."

Graces nodded despite knowing that Snape couldn't see her with his back turned.

"I think it's best for Octavian to be here on weekends. I don't like Thomas being away from Hogwarts. It's safer here and-and it's important that Octavian is exposed to magic and has a strong bond with Draco and I."

Graces had been babbling so much she hadn't noticed when Snape turned around to look at her. The blonde paused at his expression and held her breath waiting for a reply.

"So long as I don't have to be around the little brat it's fine. The moment anyone complains about him though the child will not be allowed here. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Graces breathed, surprised by how easy that was.

Snape stared at her for a moment before taking a seat so that he was eye level with her.

"Do you know what you agreed to?" Snape asked, staring into her silver eyes. "The night when you went with Thomas do you know what you agreed to."

"I agreed to take the mark."

"You agreed to kill."

Graces felt something grip her insides, but she stayed still too afraid to say anything that would betray her.

"You are going to kill people and I am having a difficult time believing you are capable of doing it," Snape said coldly. "So you will be killed."

"I can kill people," Graces rasped, a lump growing in her throat.

"I doubt it," Snape sneered, standing up and putting away his supplies. "You're all weepy eyed over a baby and a small boy."

"Why do you take compassion as a sign of weakness? Why is loving someone a shortcoming? Loving that baby and Thomas is the only way I will be able to do what I need to do. I will do it because I love them. The same way Draco is tearing himself apart because of his love for me. Love is strength." Graces frowned for a moment as something dawned on her. "What makes you able to do the things you do?"

"I believe in what I am doing," Snape proclaimed.

"I believe too."

"Do you?"

There was something so strange in the way Snape asked that Graces began to feel nervous. Snape was a death eater, he was in the Dark Lord's circle and he was the last person she needed doubting her loyalties.

"Of course I do," Graces hissed. "How could you doubt that?"

"You apologised to me."

"Because I respect you and I made a harsh judgment of you without knowledge."

Snape scoffed at Graces' answer.

"You should take Montague's offer," Snape finally said after he was collected and ready to leave. "I hate to think I am wasting my time mending a corpse."

"I'm perfectly capable of being with the Dark Lord's following. You yourself said I was talented."

"When have I ever called you talented?" Snape scowled.

"Fourth year. I was looking at a magazine with Pansy in study hall and you ripped it away from me and said that you hoped that someone so talented wouldn't waste her brains on fashion. Then you burned my magazine, but you did call me talented."

Snape scoffed, but didn't argue with Graces' recollection of that day. Snape was never really one to give out compliments, but through her years in his class she knew he found her to be bright.

"You are talented," Snape drawled slowly. "But you're not cut out to kill people. You can lie to yourself, Miss Malfoy, but you can't lie to a legilimens."

"There was a time I thought you could amount to something. A time where I believed that you were well on your way to a promising future, but as of lately I have realized that the only thing you will ever do is take care of screaming children or be entombed." Graces ignored the harsh words from the man in front of her and stared into his dark void eyes.

"I feel very sorry for you," she whispered after a moment, reaching her hand out and cupping Snape's face with a gentle hand, a kindness she was sure he had not experienced in decades. "Goodnight, Professor."

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Thomas," Graces whispered, gently nudging the younger boy awake. "Let's put Octavian in the bassinet, huh?"

Thomas yawned and awkwardly sat up, still holding the sleeping babe close to his chest so as not to wake him. Graces kept a steady hand on Octavian as well for good measure should Thomas' movements jostle him awake. Thomas didn't even mind the extra caution, he was so thoroughly exhausted he wouldn't be surprised if he accidently lost his grip on Octavian.

"Thanks," Thomas murmured, swaddling Octavian carefully in his crib.

"Of course."

Thomas watched as Graces leaned down to the child and kissed him sweetly on the head, her lips lingering on the baby soft skin. She was a good choice as the godmother. He never doubted that she should have the title. Everything else he second guessed himself on, but not Graces. She was perfect. Octavian hadn't seemed to remember her when he first came back to the castle. Graces had ran over and immediately wanted to hold him, but Octavian had clung to Thomas' cloak, content with him holding him, an act that seemed to break Graces' heart.

It had been a while. Thomas now understood Graces' demands for Octavian to be there on weekends. Octavian couldn't go weeks without seeing Graces nor should she go weeks without seeing him. The last time she had seen Octavian was when she asked for his portkey to hold him in the middle of the night while he slept, and the more Thomas thought about it the more awful he felt for not offering to bring Octavian to her.

"I'm s-sorry, I d-didn't b-bring him b-before," Thomas said gently, walking Graces out of the dorm room. "You w-were r-right. I w-want him c-comfortable with you. It's b-been too l-long."

"Yes, it has been," Graces signed, closing her arms in front of her. "Luckily he didn't take too long getting comfortable with me. Maybe he remembers something of me from before. It just took him a bit." Thomas nodded sadly and tried to rack his brain for something more to say. "The healer will be here at 10:30 tomorrow."

"I have Q-quidditch p-p-practice at that t-time," Thomas frowned, already dreading telling Graham that he couldn't make it.

"Oh, I can just take him without you," Graces offered, waving her hand casually. "It will be fine. It's just a check up. It's more to establish Octavian as one of her patients, not because anything is really wrong. You don't need to worry about being there."

"Y-you s-sure? I f-feel like I sh-should b-be there."

Graces laughed before declaring that it was truly fine. Thomas felt a bit silly being so concerned over such pointless appointment and thanked Graces for taking care of it.

"It really isn't a problem," Graces promised. "But the healer did send some forms over with the appointment time. It would be a great help to me if you filled them out. A lot of this stuff I don't know, like what formula he's on, his sleeping habits and parents' medical history." Thomas took the forms and nodded that he would have them filled out. "Excellent," Graces proclaimed, before pausing for a moment. "There-there's a form in there asking about who else can make decisions for Octavian. Did you want to list your Aunt or—"

"I'll b-be p-putting b-both y-you and m-my aunt," Thomas informed, knowing that Graces was hoping to be listed. "I also p-plan on m-making you a p-portkey to my home... You should see Octavian wh-whenever you w-want," Thomas murmured quietly. "J-just b-be sure to k-keep it t-to yourself th-that you h-have it."

Graces stilled at Thomas' words, her mind already racing to all the things this portkey meant. She could get Octavian out of that mansion in a moment if she had to, she could be there in his nursery and apparate to Neville's safe house in less than a minute. It was perfect.

"Thank you," she whispered, putting those thoughts to rest and smiling happily. "Well, I better be off to bed. Good night, Thomas."

"N-night."

Graces waited until Thomas closed the door before disillusioning herself and heading out to meet Neville. It wasn't until she was outside, filling her lungs to the brim with the cold air, that she noticed how confined she felt in the castle these days. It was like a pressure was constantly on her chest and it wasn't until she broke free of the castle that she could breathe easily.

She began walking over to the stables enjoying the crunch of her shoes against the snow. She wasn't in a rush, despite the fact that she was already pretty wait. She knew Neville would be there and she honestly needed a bit more time to figure out how to approach him about his parents. He didn't seem to be the least bit upset, but she didn't feel like that meant anything. Neville had apparently spent his whole life pretending to be fine when he wasn't.

By the time Graces entered the barn Neville was fast asleep on some hay, the book she had given him a week ago resting on his chest as music from his radio played in the background. She sat beside where he was laying and watched him sleep as she untied her coat and slipped it off. She had deep affections for Neville now, there was no denying it. She could feel it in her heart. She felt for him. He was more than her friend, and yet she wasn't able to bring herself to voice this. She needed to decide though, and she knew she had to decide quickly. Would they be friends and would she maintain the boundaries of friendship for both their sakes? Or would they be lovers, free to carry on their romantic affair for as long as it was possible. The second would hurt both of them in the end, but she felt unable to just casually throw it away.

"Well, look who finally showed up," Neville yawned, opening his eyes only for a moment before shutting them again tiredly. "I was beginning to wonder if you would come."

"What would you have done if I didn't?" Graces asked, brushing the fringe from Neville's forehead so his hair was parted.

"Slept here for the night and hoped."

Graces' smiled at this, before commenting on how light of a sleeper Neville was.

"I'm only a light sleeper when I'm laying on hay, in cold December, in a finely lit barn and music is playing," Neville chucked, now opening his eyes and sitting up. "It's kind of hard to sleep soundly under the circumstances."

"Speaking of the music," Graces breathed, "not what I expected."

"Excuse me?"

"I take it this is your taste in music?" Graces questioned, not bothering to wait for Neville to answer. "It's not what I expected."

Neville stilled and seemed to be listening for what was currently playing before protesting the song was good.

"Just a bit... somber," Graces decided, turning her eyes back to Neville and away from the room. "Edgy even."

"Edgy," Neville deadpanned, giving Graces a pointed look.

"Yeah, edgy," Graces grinned. "Are you some dark, twisted soul, Mr. Longbottom?" Graces asked, poking Neville's side and causing him to squirm. "Are you much deeper than I thought? Maybe this is why you dislike my music so, it's too happy for you."

"Okay, clearly you do not like The Verve."

"I didn't say _that_."

"So you do like it?" Neville challenged, stopping short from changing the station.

"I don't know," Graces shrugged. "Sounds like an awful way to look at life."

Neville smirked at her statement, before kissing her on the cheek and turning the dial on the radio.

"Let's find something we both can enjoy then, shall we?" Graces nodded and watched as he turned through the channels passing songs she liked and promising her better. After a few more turns Neville seemed to find a station and song he felt agreeable and the room was filled with a man's silky deep voice. "Come here," Neville ordered gently, pulling Graces up from the hay and into his arm for a slow waltz.

"You know a gentleman asks," Graces pointed out, moving into Neville's body.

"I wasn't willing to take no for an answer," Neville smirked, holding her tight as he twirled her around, his hand firm on her lower back.

Graces smiled at Neville's answer and followed his lead as he slowly took her this way and that. He seemed so content, like last night had never happened. It made Graces wonder if she should say anything at all.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked, too worried to forget. "I know last night you were—"

"Graces," Neville said gently. "I don't want to talk about last night. I want to hold you and twirl you around for a few hours. Last night is over."

"You don't want to talk about it at all?"

"No, I want to be happy," Neville stated firmly. "And right now I am exceptionally happy. Let's not talk about things we have no power to change."

"You just seemed so sad," Graces murmured lamely.

"I'm not sad now," Neville reminded, giving her a playful dip. "I actually had a very, very good day and it looks like I am about to have a fantastic night."

"What was so great about your day?" Graces giggled.

"Well, I had Herbology where I got to work with the most gorgeous witch." Graces scoffed at the flattery, but waited for Neville to continue. "It looks like the project in class will be interesting and best of all will need to be worked on during the weekends, so more time with the gorgeous witch AND after class I got an invitation to a Christmas party hosted by Professor Slughorn."

"Did you now?" Graces asked, inwardly cringing.

"Yeah, I did," Neville smiled proudly. "I'm sure you will get an invite as well."

"I doubt it," Graces deadpanned.

"Well, why not? You're smart, talented and—"

"And the daughter of a death eater," Graces finished. "Trust me, I won't be getting an invite. Slughorn won't want to be mixing his company like that."

"Well, I, uh, do get to bring a date," Neville said shyly, slowing down their dance so they could look at one another. "Maybe—"

"No," Graces declined firmly. "You know that just can't happen."

"Well, what if we figured it out. Like when I wore those Slytherin robes for your game, maybe we could say you lost a bet or—"

"Longbottom," Graces broke in, her voice taking on a slightly kinder hint. "It can't happen. I'm sorry, but I'm sure you will have a grand time anyways."

"I just was hoping you would be there," Neville sighed. "It would be nice seeing you dressed up, have dinner together. Not to mention I feel more comfortable when you're around," Neville added quietly.

"You're going to be fine," Graces comforted. "You worry too much. It will all be fine. Just make sure to highlight your best traits. Talk about your small business with selling muggles flowers and your apprenticeship with Professor Sprout. It will be a good opportunity for you. Slughorn has a lot of connections."

"You didn't seem to want me to be so concerned with what Slughorn thought a month ago."

"I don't," Graces said pointedly. "I'm not a fan of the man, but my opinion of him aside you should always seize opportunities." Neville nodded solemnly, before tentatively asking if Graces would have wanted to go with him if she could. "If you weren't a dirty blood traitor that aided in incarcerating my father then I would be more than happy to go with you, Longbottom," Graces smiled, leaning in and kissing Neville chastly on the lips.

Neville seemed quite pleased with her answer and got lost in his own head for the next few moments until he looked up at her again, clearly another question on his mind.

"What would you wear?"

"What would I wear?" Graces exclaimed, laughing at such a silly question. "Why does that matter?"

"Curious," Neville shrugged. Graces wasn't willing to take such a lame excuse and kept prodding for a real answer.

"It's silly."

"I already think you silly," Graces scoffed. "Now tell me."

Neville blushed, but slowly seemed to muster up his courage.

"I-well- I like to just think about things... Like if things were different and I—" Neville sighed, apparently at a loss for how to explain himself without being more ridiculous. "I like to think about taking you out. Actually dating," he further explained. "And well, I was thinking about what it would be like if I could take you to the Christmas party and I was trying to imagine what you would wear."

Graces stopped dancing and stared at Neville wordlessly.

"It's stupid, forget I said anything," Neville blushed, looking as though he wanted to hide. "Let's just forget I—"

"I would wear an evening dress," Graces cut in, her eyes not moving from his. "Not one that was too formal, I would look quite out of place, but an evening dress all the same. Probably something long, and dark, open enough to show off my collar, but plain enough to not take away too much attention. Simple and elegant."

Neville nodded and then awkwardly started dancing with her again. Graces wondered if he just needed something to do so he could hide his embarrassment. She answered, but Neville still seemed to feel awkward.

"What would you wear?"

"Oh, I don't know. Nice shirt and pants."

"What about your formal robes? Or would your godmother make you something?"

"Oh, I wouldn't bother her with that."

"If my godmother was Madame Blanc I would bother her weekly." Neville laughed at her statement but insisted he would leave her be. "Would you let me dress you?" Graces asked curiously.

"I think I would enjoy it more if you were undressing me."

"You stop it," Graces scolded playfully. "I'm serious. Would you let me pick out your clothes?"

"If you really wanted."

Graces hummed at the thought and let her mind wander to what she would have Neville wear.

"I love dancing with you," Neville thought aloud as the song changed to something more fast paced. "You're so... movable."

"Movable?" Graces laughed.

"Yeah, if I want to turn you, sweep you, anything it's like you sense it and move into it like water moving into a stream."

"I let you lead," Graces giggled. "That's how dancing should be."

"Well, I like that. That you let me lead."

"Your other dance partners didn't?"

"Not really," Neville laughed gallantly. "Ginny seemed to want to lead, Luna likes to do her own thing and Hannah was so nervous she resisted everything. If I had danced with you at the Yule Ball I think I would have been much happier."

Graces giggled and for a moment she teased the sandy haired boy holding her and pretended to mess up a few steps. Neville just laughed at her antics and they spent a few minutes being awful dancers before falling back into the dance. She had become so comfortable with Neville in the weeks that had passed, dancing with him was as easy as when she danced with Draco. They had their own sort of rhythm. She allowed him to lead, of course, but she also sensed what movement he was going to do next. Even if she didn't know the song she almost expected each turn. He was a charming dancer, not nearly as precise and talented as Draco, but he wasn't at all bad and he made up for his lack of precision easily in they way his movements flowed into the other.

"I like this song," Graces smiled.

"So you like Mr. Armstrong, huh?" Neville chuckled, moving his hands from such a formal waltz, and placing her closer to him so that she could rest her head in the crook of his neck.

Graces hummed a reply and closed her eyes as she laid against Neville's chest, too happy and content for words. She wished she could bottle this moment. Bottle it up tight and live in everyday for the rest of her life. It would be an existence filled with contentment.

" _Give me a kiss before you leave me and my imagination will feed my hungry heart. Leave me one thing before we part. A kiss to build a dream on._ " Graces smiled quietly as Neville continued to whisper the lyrics against her head, holding her so close to him it felt more like they were embracing rather than dancing.

She was swooning. That was the only word she could think to describe it. She was being taken away in this moment. Her head felt light and dizzy and under the calmness of the moment there was a thrill of excitement. Things had changed so much in the past few weeks, changed to the point where Neville didn't need to sweep her off her feet, because she was already carried away.

"I didn't know you sang," she whispered, feeling the need to let the moment stay quiet, but needing to say something to keep herself somewhat grounded.

"I didn't know whispering lyrics counted as singing," Neville chuckled.

"Don't stop," she sighed.

"It's almost over," Neville informed, kissing her head sweetly.

"I don't care. I just want to hear you sing," Graces requested lightly, wanting to hear Neville's low voice continue on in the song as she pressed her ear against his chest and listened to his heart.

" _Weaving romances Making believe they're true. Oh give me your lips for just a moment and my imagination will make that moment live. Give me what you alone can give a kiss to build a dream on."_

It took Graces a few moments to realize that they hadn't been dancing. At some point they had stopped and were just standing in the middle of the room holding each other. She didn't want to move and break the spell. She just wanted to continue basking in the warmth of Neville's embrace and the smell of him being so near. She knew that once this magic was broken they would say their goodbyes and go without one another until dark came again.

It was not planned, Graces in no way thought out her actions as she pulled Neville down to kiss her. If anything she felt as though her actions were no longer her own. She stood there on her toes kissing Neville with all the sensuality a woman could have, her heart pounding in her chest from the fever overtaking her senses. She had hoped Neville would match her kiss, but instead he pulled away cautiously.

"It's late," Neville murmured, his hand moving up into her hair. "You didn't sleep well last night. I can tell. You should go so you can take that potion and get some rest."

"Yeah, I should." Even after she said it she couldn't bring herself to move. She stayed still against his chest, praying he would be the one to move away, but knowing that he wouldn't. His hand cradled her head to his chest and she could hear his heart beat slow in contentment.

"You know you can stay right?" he whispered hopefully.

"I want to, it's just," Graces hesitated. "There's a lot of things I've been thinking about lately and I just don't—"

"If you're not ready you're not ready."

"I want to," Graces whispered, her mind focused on Neville's proximity. "I really want to, I just can't make my mind be silent long enough to go through with it."

Neville paused for a moment, rolling her words around in his own head, before tilting her chin up so she was looking into his eyes. A whole sea of possibilities were behind his irises. She could kiss him now and allow him to take them where they both so desperately wanted to go or she could move them there herself or she could wait and really make her decision as to what she was going to do.

"I want you to stay," Neville said gently, brushing his fingers against her cheek. "I so badly want you to stay, but the thing is if you stay I know we will do something you'll regret. If you still have things you want to sort out you shouldn't stay."

"Because if you stay I swear I'm going to kiss you and I won't be able to stop kissing you until we're both on this floor half naked from doing something you weren't ready to do. And there are days I could restrain myself, days where I could be a gentleman, but today is not one of those days," Neville sighed, dropping his hand from her face and closing his eyes. "All those other nights I had no problem just kissing you senseless, but I know that won't be an option if I kiss you now. If I get the chance I'm going to touch you and Merlin knows I'm going to want you to touch me."

"That doesn't exactly make me want to leave," Graces thought out loud, remembering how good it felt when Neville touched her.

"I don't exactly want you to choose to leave," Neville whispered huskily, moving her up against a wall. "My skin is crawling to touch you. Half of my day I spend fantasizing about your legs wrapped around my waist and the other half is spent restraining myself." Graces shuddered as she felt Neville's hands move firmly on her hips. "I know you said you want something healthy," Neville murmured, his forehead on hers. "You wanted to get to know me and all of that goodness. And I don't want to ruin things. Take a step forward only to take two steps back. So I'm asking are you ready for this?"

"No," Graces whispered, closing her eyes and suppressing her own disappointment. "No, not yet."

Neville nodded and took a step away from her so that he wasn't tempted to touch her.

"Can I ask what it is that is stopping us?"

Graces worried her lip and thought about if she should answer that. If she should tell Neville she was trying to decide if she was going to actually going to be with him, even if it was in secret, or that she may decide that they were only to be friends. No kissing, nothing crossing any lines of boundaries.

"I'm sorry, no," she decided, not wanting him to go through the torture of knowing that the option of her being with him was on the table. It wouldn't be right if she chose just to be friends.

"Then let's get you to bed," Neville sighed, picking up her cloak from the hay and helping her put it on. Graces wanted to say something, but Neville appeared to deep in thought and Graces was too much of a coward to break it. Slowly they went through their routine of making themselves invisible and began walking to the dungeons hand in hand. It was different this time though. It felt so much emptier than before.

Graces knew then that she needed to decide. She couldn't just wait for things to make sense, because they never would. She needed to make a choice. It didn't have to be tonight, but it was going to be within the next week, she wasn't going to do this to Neville anymore. She was so deep in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed Nott coming up behind them, and the other boy would have slammed right into her if Neville hadn't pulled her into him and held her against his body as the other boy said the password for the dungeons.

She moved to go in behind him, that way she could enter their common room before hurrying up stairs, but Neville yanked her back forcefully.

"Do you not see the blood on his robes?" he hissed angrily. "You wait."

Graces eyes trailed to the sleeves of his shirt and sure enough there was blood spatter. When Nott was finally gone, she was left standing outside her common room with no idea if she could go in or not.

"We're going back to the barn," Neville decided, taking her by the hand and dragging her forward. "I don't want to risk you entering the common room and him finding you."

"We could just wait a bit and then I could enter," Graces pointed out, feeling that a night in the barn would not be the best thing for her and Neville.

"I am not letting you go in there, Graces. He's dangerous. He could—"

"He couldn't do anything in the common room, if I yelled out the whole house would be up and—"

"Stupefy and Silencio. That would be all he would need. No."

Graces was about to protest, pointing out that one he could not see her, two she was a capable witch and three that he would need to be able to actually hit her with those spells, but before she said any of this Draco was now the one walking down the dungeons towards the Slytherin common room.

"Surely, you would feel more comfortable if I went in behind Draco," she whispered already moving to follow her brother.

Neville didn't answer, but he did let go of her hand. For a moment Graces turned around to try and find Neville, hoping to still have their usual kiss good night, but he appeared to be gone. Even when she reached out she couldn't feel him around her. Not wanting to miss her opportunity she hurried along to catch up to her brother. Graces barely made it through the portal after Draco and she was going to just hurry to her own bed, but the thought of Nott being upstairs with her brother made an uneasiness clench firmly in her gut. She slowly followed Draco, mindful to not make so much as a peep when she entered the room with him. Sure enough Nott was awake. He was hunched over on his bed repairing some burns on his neck from doing god knows what.

"Malfoy," he greeted, placing his wand down peacefully.

"Nott."

"I have the mead you needed."

Graces scowled. Why would Draco ask Nott for a favor?

"Thanks." Draco moved forward and took the older bottle tentatively.

"Your aunt thought it best if she just give it to me to give to you. She didn't want to take the risk of being seen in the middle of the night at Hogsmeade."

"I see," Draco hummed, his posture tight as he stared at Nott's bloody shirt.

"Your aunt seems to like me."

"My aunt is insane," Draco deadpanned. "And she probably isn't aware that you hurt her sister."

Nott flinched at Draco's harsh words, but didn't turn away.

"Now Draco, what was I supposed to do? I was told to punish you for your failures and you snaked your way out of being punished."

"It's not my fault you're so pathetic you can't do an unforgivable."

"Oh, I can now," Nott grinned darkly, standing up from where his bed. "I can do all three now. Maybe I should go have another talk with your mummy? October seems like so long ago; I'm sure the Dark Lord would agree that I should catch up with her. I mean it's now December and the task isn't complete."

"You keep away from my mother," Draco threatened, holding his wand out to the other boy's chest.

"Temper-temper," Nott tutted, tapping Draco's wand with his finger. "You know it really would be best for us all if you realized that being my friend is better than being my enemy."

"I believe you were the one that demanded the alliance be off," Draco reminded, thinking back to the night when Nott cornered Graces in the bathroom and rage slowly seeping into his veins.

"With a little atonement on your sister's part and on yours, I would be willing to revisit the discussion."

"I'm unwilling," Draco informed icily, walking to his bed. "Thanks for delivering the mead."

Graces turned to where Nott was standing keeping her wand out in case the other boy decided to send a hex her brother's way while his back was turned, but Nott just sat back down and continued tending to his wounds. For the first time Graces realized that her brother slept in close proximity to a monster and not only was he comfortable enough to sleep there, but the sight of Nott's blood stained shirt didn't faze him. Not willing to leave her brother, she padded along behind him as he went to the bathroom to wash up.

She could see his ribs, where he used to look toned he now was boney. He didn't change into proper sleepwear he just took of his school shirt and belt and when he washed up his face he didn't use any of his facial potions. Graces and Draco had both since preadolescence been very thorough in their morning routine. Draco was more obsessive about his skin care than her because as he said "not all of us can paint our face and cover up our imperfections, better there just not be any imperfections". It was odd watching him just splash his face with some water and soap before slinking to his bed.

Graces wanted to wake him then, but she waited. She wanted to be sure Nott was asleep and she also didn't want Draco to think she had been there the whole time. Despite the quiet settled in the room she felt as though something sinister was occurring. She was sure that it was only because Nott was sleeping just across the way, but she couldn't shake her trepidation.

"Draco. Draco, wake up."

Draco slowly pried his eye open and turned to where his sister was kneeling beside his bed.

"Bad dream?" he rasped, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Uh, yeah," Graces nodded awkwardly, playing with a piece of invisible lint on his sheets.

"Potion isn't working?"

"I didn't take it."

"What? Why?" Draco hissed, now fully awake.

"I-I just wanted to be alert in case Thomas needed help with Octavian."

Draco sighed at his sister's logic and reminded her that Thomas was fully capable of taking care of a child for the night. Especially when he could call for a house elf to help him.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Draco was already moving out of his bed and heading to the door so that they could sleep in Graces', but Graces stopped him from moving towards her dorms and steered him to Thomas'.

"What are we doing?" Draco asked slowly as Graces slowly pried open the door. "I hope you don't think we are taking Octavian in the dead of night."

"We're sleeping with Thomas," Graces informed, before motioning for him to be quiet. Draco scowled and would have dragged her out of the room by her hair if she hadn't already made it to Thomas' bed and woke the younger boy up. Thomas appeared to be exceptionally perplexed as to what was happening, but he didn't protest when Graces moved him over in his bed nor did he make waves when Draco took the middle. He did give Draco a this is weird look, but after the curtains were closed, the bed enlarged and Octavian's basket was moved in with them everyone as a whole seemed happily content.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"And you have all ze papers?" Guérisseuse Durand clarified, taking out her instruments to examine Octavian.

"Yes," Graces nodded, taking out the forms Thomas had filled out.

"Parfait," the healer murmured, looking the forms over. "I see daddy has give you much power," she whispered, more to herself than to Graces. A few waves of her wand were done to ensure no forgery, but after a few minutes the woman seemed to be satisfied.

"Everything seems to be in order. Now, let me see ze child?" Graces nodded her head and handed Octavian to the healer. Guérisseuse Durand looked the infant over, muttering a few diagnostic spells and looking at the forms Thomas filled out on the diet. "He's a good weight. Monsieur 'iggs appears to be doing a fine job. Does he cry when he leaves him for school?"

"I'm not sure," Graces admitted.

"Find out and owl me. I want to know how ze child's attachment is." Graces nodded her head and stayed quiet as the healer did a few reflex tests. Octavian fussed a little here and there, but for the most part he allowed the examination to take place, though Graces felt that Guérisseuse Durand's pearls aided a bit. If the healer minded his little hands yanking on the strain she didn't show it.

_Probably because she knows I can replace it._

"he's a very healthy little boy," the healer proclaimed happily, taking Octavian off the table and handing him over to Graces. "I see nothing wrong. Zough I would like to see more solid food on his next report. I would introduce him to a very wide array of foods, zat way 'e is less likely to be picky. Something I wish your mother would have listened to me about."

"She insists she listened. I was just unwilling to eat anything other than what I wanted."

"Oui, applesauce and mashed potatoes," the healer deadpanned bitterly. "You had to have a nutrient potion every single day."

"Sorry," Graces smiled, bouncing Octavian on her knee.

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to zat godfather of yours. You're mother only wanted potions made by 'im and damn if she didn't almost break down 'is door demanding zem."

Graces smirked at the the thought before listening to the healer about what foods she wanted introduced.

"Zere is zis squib, she makes magnifique baby food. She jars all kinds of yummy food. I will give you her address and you will have Monsieur Higgs order from 'er."

"Is there any nutritional potions added to it?" Graces asked.

"No, ze food is nutrient enough. Like I was saying, she is very good," the healer reminded, handing Graces a paper with the woman's address and the foods she wanted introduced. "Well, I shall be off. I will see you two again in free mons."

"Wait," Graces called. "I, uh, wanted to ask you about something."

The healer waited by the door patiently for Graces to ask, but suddenly Graces' nerves caught up with her. She pulled Octavian closer. "I, uh, wanted to know about umm those polio vaccines." The healer's posture if possible became more taut as her blue eyes pierced Graces' warily. "I just, do they work?"

"Yes."

"For certain? They really do work?"

"Zey do."

"Do, uh, do you think Octavian should have one?"

"Zat is not for me to decide."

Graces realized that the healer in no way was going to make this easy for her. If she wanted Octavian to have that vaccine she was going to have to ask. She couldn't really blame the woman. If she had said yes to the wrong person she could be facing major consequences. Graces was only so daring because her family paid this woman's yearly salary.

"I think Octavian should have the vaccine," she said, surprised that the woman in front of her was even able to hear her words.

"As you wish," Guérisseuse Durand stated, opening her bag and taking out a small glass bottle and a syringe. "Hold him still, s'il vous plaît."

Graces compiled and held Octavian tightly as the tiny stabbed his tiny arm. It took the child a moment to react, as though he couldn't believe what had just been done to him, but he soon processed the pain and screamed out his anger. Graces hushed him and tried to sooth his tears but the tiny babe wouldn't have any of it though, he wailed out his anger until his cheeks were splotched crimson.

"I will administer ze second dose in two mons. Is zere anything else you wish to be done?"

There was a distinct frost about the healer now and Graces almost lost her nerve and sent the woman away, but something in her pushed her to ask for the vaccine as well.

The healer stared at her for a moment, before taking a seat across from where Graces and the baby were.

"You already have ze vaccine," she informed chilly.

"What?"

"You have ze vaccine. You and Draco both."

Graces wavered at what the Healer was saying.

"You-you gave it to us without our parent's consent?"

"No, I gave you two ze vaccine under your father's orders."

Never in a million years would Graces have guessed that her father, Lucius Malfoy, would allow anything muggle to be used on her or Draco. For a moment she wondered if she was being lied to, but that also didn't make sense.

"Your father is not a stupid man," the healer scoffed. "Stubborn yes, but not stupid. And he certainly isn't the kind of man to allow his children to be risked. 'e knew ze vaccine worked. he discussed it wiz me, read ze research, even went and exposed muggle children to ze virus to test its validity. After all was said and done, he had me administer ze vaccines."

"Of course no one knew. Not even your mother was made aware zat you were given ze vaccine," Durand added. "It is on no records and he even refused to be zere when I administered the vaccine. Plausible deniability."

"He never told me," Graces whispered, thinking of all the times her father had sneered at other wizarding families using muggle inventions.

"Zere was no need to tell you. You were safe."

"But-but my father hates muggles."

"He loves you more. Now if you excuse me, I should like to get back home. Take care, ma chère, and if I were you I would keep zat bit of information to yourself." Graces nodded and walked the healer to the door, but before the woman left she turned back and evaluated Graces in the doorway. "How is your eye? Are you adjusting well?"

"I am."

"It can't be easy to be living without depf perception."

"I'm managing."

"Comme vous voulez," the woman sighed. "You know where to reach me should you change your mind."

"I do."

"Just remember, I can't save you from everything, Graces," the healer warned. "I am bound by confidentiality, so you are safe with me, but do not go telling zis world about your choice to vaccinate zat child."

Graces nodded and stayed still as the healer seemed to be evaluating her response. After a moment the older woman left, not bothering to wish her any goodbyes. Graces had a feeling she approved of the vaccination, but that the woman was beginning to wonder about her. She was making mistakes now, she knew she was, but at the same time she was beginning to not be able to see where the line in the sand was.

Graces contemplated all this as she walked back to the dungeons from the infirmary. She was starting to feel differently about her beliefs. Everything she thought she knew, thought she believed in, was slowly unravelling. Part of her wanted to forget all the things that were changing her thoughts: Dr. Harris, the moon landing, the vaccinations. And another part of her wanted to throw it all out and never evaluate those things again. But if she did that then are her beliefs real? If she refused to listen to anything contradicting her wasn't that the worst kind of ignorance? Was it better to risk death than to live out her life as a fool?

"Oh my gods, what's wrong with me?" Graces breathed stopping in the hall at her last thought.

"Graces?"

Graces looked up to see Neville limping towards her drenched in sweat.

"What happened to you?" she asked, adjusting Octavian on her hip.

"Oh, uh, just sprained my ankle playing football with the Dean and Seamus."

"Football?" Graces repeated scowling.

"Uh, it's this muggle game where you kick a ball around and—it's not important," Neville waved, clearly not wanting to discuss his athletic failures. "Point is I think I sprained my ankle and was heading to the infirmary. What are you doing here?"

Graces bobbed Octavian to answer, but didn't offer further explanation.

"Is he okay?" Neville frowned, coming closer and putting his hand on the child's forehead. "He's all pinky."

"He's fine," Graces said quickly, moving the child out of Neville's reach. "I should go. He's tired."

"Wait, I, uh, can I talk to you for a few? I wanted to say something and—"

"We can't talk here," Graces clipped looking around to ensure no one was near. "People could see."

"Well, then how about you meet me in that classroom? I'll be there in just a few I swear." Graces worried her lip, not sure if that was a good idea. "Please?" Neville asked, his darker eyes begging her to agree.

"You have ten minutes," Graces stipulated, inwardly groaning at her inability to say no. "Ten. And if Octavian gets fussy I'm going to leave."

"That's all I need," Neville swore. "I'll be there in ten."

Graces nodded and briskly walked over to the classroom. She took a seat in the corner of the room and tried to focus on keeping Octavian entertained and not her head's swirling thoughts.

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Neville, once he realized that Madam Pomfrey was not going to be able to get to his ankle within several minutes, left the infirmary and hobbled over to the classroom. When he entered Graces was sitting uncomfortably, half-heartedly bouncing Octavian while the child wrapped his little fists around her long hair. She seemed more worried than angry, but Neville knew he should tread lightly.

"So, this is Octavian?" Neville grinned coming close and tickling the bottom of the tubby child's cheeks. "He's handsome."

"Thank you," Graces nodded, a quiet smile tugging the corner of her mouth. Neville paused at her response, finding it a bit odd, but decided to not dwell on it.

"What happened here?" he asked, pointing to the small bandage on Octavian's arm. Graces hand immediately went to the tiny covering, as though if she hid it Neville would forget it was there. Neville frowned at her response and stared at her.

"It's from his check up," Graces clipped vaguely.

"Did he get a shot?" Neville asked astounded, knowing that the only time he ever received a covering was when he had a muggle vaccination. His gran was insistent that they could spell the wound good as new, but most healers didn't know enough about muggle medicine and they did things exactly as a muggle would when treating anyone with it. Graces' brooding glare answered his question and Neville sat back on a desk to keep himself grounded.

"If you say a word to anyone about it I swear to the gods—"

"I'm not going to say anything," Neville interrupted. "I'm not an idiot." Graces pinched her lips together but didn't continue with her threat. She held Octavian closer to her and did her best not to meet Neville's eyes.

"I think that was a really good decision." Neville stated. "A _really_ good one."

"No one can know."

"I understand that."

"He cried."

"I'm sure he did," Neville chuckled.

"So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Graces asked hollowly.

"Just about last night," Neville blushed. "I, uh, I wanted to apologize. I don't think I was very patient or understanding... And I feel bad about it."

"Oh, I didn't even notice," Graces shrugged, offering him a small smile.

"No, I was out of line. I shouldn't have pressured you like that."

"That was you pressuring me?" Graces laughed.

"Well, a bit yeah..." Neville blushed.

"That wasn't pressuring me, Longbottom," Graces scoffed.

Neville now wondered exactly what Graces and Nott's relationship was like at the end, he wasn't curious enough to ask, knowing better than to bring up the bloke, but he now added another reason to hate the guy.

"Well, I'm sorry all the same."

"You're forgiven all the same," Graces echoed with a smirk. "I understand that things have been... trying lately."

"No, they really haven't been," Neville countered. "Things have been perfect lately."

"I doubt you feel they are perfect," Graces scoffed.

"No, I really do feel that way," Neville swore. "I think you were right about us focusing more on a friendship. I really feel like we've grown close and when you're comfortable and ready I think that it will be better."

Graces nodded, but Neville had a feeling that he said something wrong. The blonde was once again not looking at him and she was fidgeting in her seat, pretending to be fussing over Octavian.

"Is everything okay?" Neville asked warily.

"Yes, of course."

"You seem... disturbed."

"No, I'm just tired," Graces offered lamely. "I've just been so busy today."

"Graces, is there—"

"I need to go. Thomas should be finishing up practice and he will want to see Octavian."

"Right," Neville frowned, standing up along with her. "I guess I'll see you tonight."

"About that," Graces breathed turning and facing him. "I don't think I can meet this weekend."

"What?"

"I want to help Thomas with Octavian and he wakes up so early. I need to take my potions at a decent hour at night and I think it's best we skip this weekend."

Neville was now sure something was up.

"I know when you're lying," he reminded, taking a step closer. "What's going on? I thought you were happy, that things were going well."

"I am happy, things are going well."

"Then why are you backing away?"

"I'm not."

"You are," Neville stressed, steering her shoulders away from the door so that she was facing him. "What's going on? Did something happen?"

"No."

"Why are you retreating?"

"Longbottom, I'm not. I just-I just need some time for myself. Just some time to think."

"Are you thinking of ending this?"

"No," Graces swore. "No we are friends and no matter what I want us to be friends."

"Then I don't understand. Why—"

"I really just want some time to myself," Graces repeated, moving her hand to rest on his cheek. "Just a little time to think about a few things going on in my life. Octavian being one of them. I am not going anywhere, I just want to think. It's one weekend."

"Is it?" Neville asked solemnly.

"It is. Friday we will meet up after your Slug Club party. I swear."

Neville didn't know if he believed Graces, but at the same time he really didn't have a choice. He couldn't make her meet with him and he knew if he placed any pressure on her she would retaliate with greater force.

"Okay," he sighed heavily. "I really hope you mean it, cause next weekend we also leave for Christmas break."

"Friday night, I swear."

Graces turned to leave, but Neville turned her back and kissed her longingly on the lips. He could feel Octavian's protests against his chest, but he didn't care he wanted to kiss her. Kissing her was an answer in itself. He pulled away disappointed. She hadn't really kissed him back. Graces looked up at him apologetically, but gave no excuse for her actions.

"Right," Neville breathed deflated. "Nothing's going on," he repeated, making it clear he didn't believe her.

"I'll see you Friday night," Graces promised, refusing to say more before she departed without a second glance.

Neville stood in the room and tried to tell himself that there was no need for him to have this sinking feeling in his chest. There were a million explanations for why Graces was wanting space that didn't necessarily have to do with him. And the kiss could have been a fluke as well, due to Octavian being there, but in his heart of hearts he knew. Graces, for whatever reason, was reassessing them.


	60. Chapter 60

It was official. Graces was avoiding him. Neville had now come to the point where he wondered how much of this his heart could take. Was he forever doomed to feel that he was on thin ice with Graces? One small move and they would crack. There was no security, nothing to reach for to hold him up when she did this.

All week he had felt the bitter sting of rejection from her. She wouldn't even meet his eyes in class. She kept her nose buried in notes and during anything practical she just asked a million questions about the subject, refusing to allow him a single friendly word. She wasn't cruel or mean, just distant. She greeted him and anything above that was like pulling teeth. It wasn't long before he just stopped trying, more comfortable with silence than pathetic attempts to bring her back to him.

He had hoped that maybe he could demand to know more of what was going on when they were forced to meet outside of class to tend to their plant, but Graces had outmaneuvered him. She would show up for their meetings with Blaise and the two of them were usually enthralled in some discussion that he couldn't understand seeing as they decided to speak in French around him for their privacy.

"Good morning," Graces breathed taking her seat beside him and opening her notes.

Neville nodded to her greeting, but didn't look towards her. He kept his eyes set forward. He could feel anger pooling into his body despite himself and gritted his teeth tighter to keep from being unpleasant. Graces appeared not to notice. _Or care._

"I'm still going tomorrow," Neville murmured angrily. Graces paused in her reading but didn't say anything else, much to Neville's irritation. "I mean, I said I would and Hannah is expecting me there and Ernie is as well. So I'm going."

"I wouldn't expect you not to go," Graces countered gently, going back to her book. Neville glowered at her. Here he was practically a wreck and she was just as tranquil as ever. He pressed his lips together to keep himself from goading her more. He felt like a child, a child that was so starved for attention he would settle for negative rather than positive. He just wanted a rise out of Graces at this point. He didn't even care if their interactions were friendly so long as it was an interaction.

"Good, because I don't care that you don't want me there. I'm still going."

The blonde sighed in exasperation and finally looked up at him.

"I never said I didn't want you there," Graces pointed out. "I very much do want you there. What I did say was I wanted space."

"Yeah, but you refused to answer why you wanted space."

It was now Graces' turn to glower at him. Neville met her stare though, refusing to just back away. After everything he felt he should know.

"I am not talking to you about this now," Graces said, turning back to her notes.

"Always your terms," Neville murmured bitterly, going back to staring forward. "So if not now, when? Friday? Or do you plan on bringing Zabini with you then too?"

"Professor," Graces called out, as Sprout took the front of the room. "I'm feeling ill, do you mind if I go to the infirmary?"

"You have got to be kidding me," Neville murmured under his breath.

"Is everything okay?" Professor Sprout asked, moving to their desk and looking the blonde over.

"Yes, I just am not feeling to well. Do you mind if I go lie down?"

"Well, what is it that's bothering you?"

Graces paused for a moment before glancing at Neville and leaning in and whispering something to the woman in front of her. Professor Sprout seemed to feel that whatever Graces had mentioned was excuse enough because she nodded and told her to go ahead and to feel better soon.

Neville was left inwardly cursing. He didn't know who he was more angry with, himself or Graces. Either way he felt like an idiot. And the fact that he couldn't concentrate at all in Herbology did not help that feeling. This was by far his worst day in Herbology and at the end of it he wondered if Professor Sprout was rethinking her decision in giving him the apprenticeship.

At the end of the day his melancholy mood had not improved in the slightest and he sat in an area of the library closed off from any human interaction. The funny thing was now he knew his absence would be missed. Since he and Graces had been meeting solely in the dead of night on the weekends he had been spending ample amounts of time with his friends. Getting away for this much needed solitude was harder than he anticipated.

He sat alone in the corner of the library that housed the long forgotten muggle literature thinking about Graces. He wanted to remain calm. It wasn't like they hadn't been through all this before, but he was just so tired of it. He was willing to go through it, but now he felt as though going through this kind of indecision was tearing him up. He loved her. He needed her, and it killed him to know that she could so casually throw him away. Everything was always the same, nothing ever changed. No matter what he did she still shied away. He didn't need anything more than what she had given him in the past few weeks. Nothing more.

Did he want more? Of course. He would take it all if Graces offered it to him, but he was never going to ask. All he wanted was for her to be near him. He missed her. Not her body, her. He missed her in the most innocent form. He laid back against the bookcase and closed his eyes, determined to not think any more on things he could not change.

Graces was not going to change. This was how she dealt with intimacy. She retreated. Maybe she was right to do so. This was eventually going to break his heart. Why should hers be broken all the same? No, this was better for her. Neville sat there and allowed a small amount of feeling to seep in and thought about how lucky Graces was to never have to feel this kind of pain.

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Ernie bristled at the thought of going to the concert with Neville. Hannah insisted though and he felt obligated as her friend to fulfill her request. Still, he also felt obligated as her friend to hate the bloke that broke her heart.

"Ernie," Neville greeted, coming up from the hall.

"Longbottom."

A surge of satisfaction surged through the Hufflepuff at Neville's reaction to his cold greeting and if he had been a Slytherin he would have smirked smugly, but he wasn't so he stood emotionless and waited for the other boy to say something more.

"Ernie, come on. You know I never meant to hurt Hannah."

"But you did."

"What would have wanted me to do?" Neville asked, clearly at a loss.

"Declined the date to begin with. If you didn't like her why would you agree to go on a date with her?"

"I was caught off guard. I didn't think."

"You could have explained it to her. Told her you had a lovely time, but you just wanted to be friends. Something."

Neville made some sort of sound of exasperation and pursed his lips tightly as he looked up to the ceiling.

"Ernie, has it ever occurred to you that I don't have much experience in dating? That I assumed I didn't have to say anything since it was a first date and that my not asking her out would be answer enough to my feelings?"

"That's a really stupid thing to think."

"Well, I am not the most intelligent of blokes."

"Clearly, you would rather have Malfoy over Hannah."

Neville glared up at him and Ernie could tell he had a hex on the tip of his tongue, but as quickly as the emotion came Neville put it away.

"Who I fancy is my own business, Macmillan," Neville warned, clearly not allowing the conversation to open up about Graces.

"Still got a thing for her?"

"Shove off," Neville snapped, moving past him over to the Great Hall.

"Where are you going?" Ernie exclaimed, following closely behind.

"Getting away from you."

"Hannah wants us to sit together."

"Clearly that isn't going to happen."

"Neville, stop!" Ernie growled, grabbing the taller boy by his coat and yanking him back. "I promised her."

Neville pulled away and ignored his pleas for him to stop. Ernie groaned out his frustrations for a moment and let Neville go deciding that he was just going to sit separately from Neville and tell Hannah that it wasn't his fault that Neville was a right arse. But the moment he decided it he knew that wasn't going to happen. He promised Hannah. He said that he would sit with Neville and make an effort, if he didn't go over then he broke two promises to his friend. Ernie took a few moments to kick the castle wall before swallowing his anger and entering the Great Hall.

It was set up differently than usual for the choir performance. Chairs were placed facing the front where Dumbledore and all the professors usually sat, only instead of the usual table a grand piano stood on the left side and risers were stationed in the middle. The lighting had been significantly dimmed and there was a pale blue ambiance about the room as the starry sky and full moon showed above them on the ceiling. Candles were only lit near the entrances to the rows of chairs and in the background of where the choir singers were going to be. It gave everyone's face a warm glow, despite the false snow falling down from midair.

Ernie caught a glimpse of where Neville was seated in the front row and hurried over, so no one would take the spot next to him. The sandy haired boy bristled with irritation as he took his seat, but Ernie ignored it.

"I don't want to upset Hannah," he said quietly, making sure the girl was no where to be seen. "She really wants us to get along again."

"I'm not the one that has a problem. You have a problem with me and I'm just not willing to be your verbal punching bag."

Ernie blushed from Neville's statement, but couldn't bring himself to apologize.

"She's my friend," he proclaimed stubbornly. "She's my friend and she was hurt, I don't know what to think of you now. You hurt her and you didn't make things right."

"I tried," Neville deadpanned, not bothering to even look at him. "There is no good way to turn someone down."

"You didn't try," Ernie hissed. "You could have gone on more dates. You—"

"I meant I tried to make things right," Neville corrected. "I did. It wouldn't have been right to try and date Hannah when I knew I wouldn't feel anything for her. I'm really sorry she was hurt, and that I wasn't all-knowing on how to handle women, but I have apologized to her and she has accepted that."

"Why didn't you make things right with her sooner. Why did you wait?"

"I thought she needed time," Neville shrugged. "It seemed like the right thing to do give her space." Ernie opened his mouth as though he were going to make another argument, but before he could get any words out Neville rounded on him so that they were almost nose to nose. "Damn it, Ernie, leave me alone about this. I'm sixteen. I don't know anything about anything and I sure as hell don't need you making this out like it was a great sin on my part. I have actual things to worry over and I don't need this petty teenage drama."

"It's not petty teenage drama!" Ernie exclaimed indignantly. "You hurt her and—"

"And she has forgiven me," Neville repeated agitatedly. "So bugger off."

Ernie knew Neville was right, but couldn't seem to bring his emotions to the same conclusion. Neville scoffed at him and turned back so he was looking forward.

"She still likes you," Ernie said quietly.

"Yeah, I had a feeling about that," Neville muttered under his breath.

"I just... I just don't know what to do. I don't want her to get hurt again, and she looks so closely into everything you say to her. You know she asked me if I thought you coming meant that maybe you were starting to reconsider. Like maybe you realized that liking Graces was a mistake and were starting to think of her."

Neville looked down for a moment and Ernie could tell that he didn't need to make Neville feel poorly about Hannah, he could do that right on his own.

"I don't feel that way for her," Neville sighed. "I just don't. I also don't know what to do so she realizes that. I thought staying a distance was good and now I'm trying to be friendly and she is apparently taking it as something else."

"I don't know either..."

"Maybe I should go back to keeping my distance."

"That's going to make her cry."

"Then what do you suggest?" Neville asked icily. "Since you apparently know more than me on these matters."

Ernie blushed, but admitted he didn't know what else to do. Neville sat pensively for a few moments, before turning to Ernie cautiously.

"Just tell her I'm not interested, Ernie. Tell her you and I talked and you know I'm not interested."

"Oh that would go well. She would murder me if she knew I talked to you about her."

"Then-then don't tell her we talked about her," Neville said slowly, clearly forming an idea. "Tell her you asked if I was still sweet on Malfoy."

"Are you?" Ernie frowned. Ernie didn't need an answer though, because just then Graces hurried on stage, her choir robes billowing behind her as she placed sheet music on the piano.

"Do you have everything?" Professor Flitwick whispered, peering over her shoulder at all the papers.

"Yes, it's tuned?" she asked in reply.

"Of course."

Graces nodded and bent down to adjust the piano bench and that's when Ernie saw her eyes land on Neville. She tightened her jaw as her eyes narrowed on him, but didn't say anything. She simply turned and pretended he wasn't there, stalking off into a back room when she was finished.

"Tell me you didn't pick this spot because of Malfoy," he begged looking over at Neville.

"Well, I think we are finally on good terms, Ernie. I don't want to ruin that with a lie."

The Hufflepuff wrinkled his nose in distaste, but Neville just shrugged, clearly well past caring what people thought of it. Ernie tried not to think too much about Neville's choice in women and comforted himself in the idea that Hannah was just too sweet for him, that he was some kind of masochist. He was deep into this thought when Draco Malfoy suddenly appeared in front of him with Thomas Higgs by his side. Neville breathed out a curse, but looked at the blonde head on.

"You have got to be kidding me," Draco growled, glaring down at Neville.

"I wish he was," Ernie sighed, looking away as Draco's steely eyes turned to him.

"Just here to see the performance, Malfoy," Neville muttered, his hand going close to wand pocket.

"I know what you're doing here, Longbottom. And I believe I warned you about going near my sister."

"He's here with me," Ernie piped up, not wanting Neville to be on the end of an angry Malfoy. "Hannah has a solo, so shove off."

Ernie felt a chill go down his spine and muttered over and over in his head 'unafraid of toil, unafraid of toil,' until Draco's eyes moved away from his. Draco took a step further, but a soft voice seemed to save both him and Neville.

"Draco, take a seat."

Ernie was a bit surprised to see the blonde obey so quickly and turned his eyes to see Narcissa Malfoy standing regally in the aisle. While Draco and Graces had gray eyes, hers were the purest blue. Ernie looked away, not really wanting to be noticed by her and also not wanting to be disrespectful. He may not like the Malfoys, but he was raised proper when it came to respecting his elders. Realizing that where he was seated didn't allow Narcissa, Draco and Thomas a seat he stood and moved to the other side of Neville.

Thomas took the seat he had vacated, but after Draco whispered something in his ear the smaller boy moved and Draco was now seated almost elbow to elbow with Neville. Ernie could tell Draco was murmuring something under his breath to his friend, but he couldn't hear any of what was being muttered, and Neville just continued to stare forward as though he didn't hear a word. This seemed to make Draco even more furious. It wasn't until Narcissa leaned in over Thomas and murmured something that Draco calmed down and switched his seat back.

"What was that about?" Ernie asked, watching Narcissa put a calming hand down on her son's arm.

"Not sure, I tuned him out after he started mentioning my castration."

Ernie flinched at the thought and asked how he could be so calm. Neville let out a small chuckle and smiled wryly before answering "Malfoys just like to talk, trust me."

Ernie was about to ask him how he could be so confident, but before he could the choir students began flowing out of the rooms in the back and were taking their place on the risers. Hannah gave a little hand wave to where he and Neville were sitting and Ernie grinned and mouthed her a good luck. He could tell she was exceptionally nervous, but she seemed to be okay. Hannah didn't have the best reputation for dealing with her nerves, but one of the things he admired about her was that she still tried. She didn't decide not to do things because it made her uncomfortable or scared. She was always trying to improve.

He had always thought she and Neville were a good match because of this. They both tended to get exceptionally nervous, but they also both tried. They didn't scare away from something so easily. Hannah was one of the most hardworking people he knew, as was Neville. He thought the two of them being together was a match made in heaven. Not to mention their personalities were similar. Both soft spoken, but also able to speak up when needed. He wished Neville saw all that, or perhaps he did and just didn't care.

The first few songs sang were all very traditional, one even being in Latin. Graces played the piano accompaniment for all of the tunes and Ernie prayed Hannah didn't notice Neville's eyes drifting over to her every few measures. She didn't seem to, perhaps because the lighting was kept so dim, but then Graces stood from the piano and moved to the center with Blaise and Ernie knew without a doubt she must have noticed the way Neville perked up with interest. Ernie also hoped against hope that Hannah didn't take note of the fact that Graces and Blaise both had absolutely heavenly voices and clearly had each been trained in music.

Everyone seemed to be captivated by Graces and Blaise singing and it didn't help that along with their amazing voices both students apparently had a knack for theatrics. They smiled and made faces to go along with the cheerful holiday song and though they both stayed where they stood they moved in the most natural ways with their arms and faces.

_Hannah has a pretty voice too_ , Ernie reminded himself. She's going to be fine. This isn't going to faze her, because she has practiced like mad. It's going to be fine. Ernie told himself this until Blaise and Graces were done, but as Hannah approached the center he knew it wasn't true.

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_Eb major; c minor; three flats._ Graces looked over at the sheet music one more time before turning to Professor Flitwick and nodding that she was ready. She didn't really get nervous at concerts, if anything she enjoyed the attention, but this one she was definitely thoroughly aware. She was aware that Neville had came and sat so he could see her and she was aware that unfortunately that spot was also the spot her family had decided to take. In short none of this was good.

_And_ to top it all off she knew Neville was mad at her. Sure, he was there and he was seated where he had said he would be, but she could tell he was furious. When their eyes had met earlier when she was setting up she saw exactly how mad he truly was. Not mad enough to not come to miss her performance, but mad enough not to give her a smile. For Neville that was furious. She peeked over to see if he was looking at her and scowled as she saw his eyes were fixed on Hannah, it was only then that Graces realized Hannah was not singing. She had been so lost in thought she hadn't realized the Hufflepuff had froze on stage.

Graces started playing the song more elaborately adding things here and there in the music so it wasn't as dull as an accompaniment. She hoped this would divert the attention enough from Hannah so that the blonde could jump in on her own, but Hannah didn't seem to catching onto how she was trying to help her.

"Hannah," Graces whispered from the corner of her mouth as she banged on the piano keys at the end of a crescendo. "Sit down."

The blonde sat automatically beside her on the piano bench and Graces ignored her harsh intakes of breath and tried to keep time.

"I am going to round back to the beginning after the chorus and you are going to start over," Graces muttered, not bothering to look at the girl beside her.

"I can't," Hannah hiccupped clearly in tears now that her face was hidden behind Graces' side.

"You can and you will," Graces snapped. "If you don't I am just going to stop and it will be much more embarrassing for you. You have four measures."

Four measures came and Hannah's voice did not. Graces gritted her jaw and was about to stop all together and stomp back to her place in the risers next to Pansy, when Hannah softly began rasping the song. She dropped her playing to a soft pianissimo, so the audience could hear and kept track of Hannah's voice should it allow her to be louder.

She had felt odd playing this song to begin with. Not only was it muggle, it was religious. She had almost refused to play it, but refusing to do something when a Professor asks would not look well on her later. So she played, but made sure not to play it with any sort of vibrancy. Now though, she felt like she couldn't go back to the simple playing she had done before, not after she had made the song more elaborate to help distract the audience. Hannah's voice soared over the hall and Graces realized she had caused that. If she would have just stopped when Hannah had been unable to perform she wouldn't have had to play this song at all.

_Why did I do that?_

Graces thought for a moment it was because of Neville, but a great part of her knew that wasn't true. It was something else, something that was nagging at her mind. She stood with Hannah at the end of the solo and both returned to join the rest of the group for the final number.

"Thank you," Hannah whispered shyly as they approached their spots. Graces looked up from her thoughts and gave a curt nod, still unsure of what had happened. She took her space beside Pansy who was showing the same sort of confusion over Graces' actions as Graces was feeling.

"I just reacted," Graces whispered lamely.

Pansy twisted her mouth, but didn't say a word. She just turned her eyes back to Professor Flitwick and waited to begin. Graces mirrored her actions, but couldn't help but look over at her mother during the last song. She didn't seem to have any sort of emotion on her face. She watched the choir performance just as she had every year. Draco though was staring at her silently asking the question of what that was all about.

It was nice to see no real disapproval from him though, just sheer confusion. At the end of the song though all cheered and it wasn't long before Graces was hurrying down the steps and flinging her arms around her mother, not realizing until that moment how much she missed her. But she had. She had missed and wanted her so much more than she had known, so much that the smell of her perfume was making her eyes water with emotion.

Time didn't stand still for her mother's visit. One moment she was holding her the next they were exchanging pleasantries. Draco and Graces were both well aware that their mother was not telling them things and that she was trying fish out their secrets as well. Graces knew that war tore families apart, but she always took it as someone going off to fight or being killed, but now she sensed a deeper meaning.

Her family wasn't the same. They didn't talk like they used to and each of them knew the others held secrets that they wanted told. It was hard being around her mother and not being able to tell her everything, not being able to tell her she almost died or cry to her for comfort about the injustice of it all.

_One day,_ Graces promised herself. _One day I will tell her everything._

She went back to her dorm more homesick than ever and collapsed on her bed in tears. What she wanted more than anything was to go home and sleep in her own bed with the knowledge that her mother was down the hall from her. She wasn't even going home for Christmas. Her mother had cryptically said they were having guests and she felt she and Draco would be safer here at the castle. Graces wondered if she would ever go home. If Draco didn't complete his task then she and her family were going to the safe house for gods know how long. She wished she would have known that before she walked out the doors to come to school.

Not wanting anyone to see her so distressed she hurried into the showers when she heard Pansy and Millicent coming upstairs. After she was sure she was more composed, she showered off the day and got ready for bed. She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn't notice the long stemmed rose on her nightstand. It didn't even need a note. It was from Neville.

She gingerly picked it up and ran a finger through the soft petals thinking about the boy that sent it to her. The boy that despite his anger still made her feel special and appreciated. And suddenly she wasn't homesick anymore.

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Neville stared at himself in the mirror one last time before leaving to go to Slughorn's party. He thought he looked decent, the bags under his eyes were there to stay, but his hair was combed nicely and he was wearing the sweater vest his gran had bought him last Christmas. He left the dorm as Harry was in the midst of fighting his own hair and wished him a good luck which was met with a comb being thrown at his head.

He walked the halls exceptionally aware of how alone he was. He tried to keep his mind away from Graces, but he couldn't stop it from wandering. She hadn't even looked at him today. Even when they passed by one another in the halls, she had been sure to keep her eyes downward. He now wished he had never gone to the concert or bothered to send that rose. He had a feeling that this was Graces' way of breaking it off with him. Yes, she had said they would see one another, but when he had brought up Friday in Herbology she had literally found a way to exit the room. And then there was the classroom. She had said no matter what she wanted them to be friends. Neville should have realized then, friends, that's what girls called it when they didn't want to be with you. Like what he said to Hannah, or what Ginny had said to him. I just want to be _friends_.

It was insane how much being friends with someone you love hurts.

"Neville."

Neville turned around at the familiar voice and his jaw dropped at the sight of Graces leaning against the wall he had just passed. She was stunning. She wore a sheath black metallic laced cocktail dress that made his tongue go dry and his eyes widen. He took a step closer noticing the attention she put into her make up and smiled despite himself.

"You're... you're here," Neville breathed, almost unable to believe it. "You're really here!"

It suddenly all made sense. She needed to think, she was thinking about this. If they could go together, that's what she was thinking about. She wasn't evaluating things between them or thinking of breaking things off, she just wanted to really think about attending with him. She probably wanted space so that she could not be influenced by how happy they were when they were together, not make a promise in the heat of a moment that she didn't intend to fulfill. Plus she would probably need a back up story, which of course she thought about in her spare time because she's the most brilliant woman in the world.

"Neville, I think you have the wrong idea," Graces said nervously. "I—"

"Cara Bella, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting!" Blaise called from around the corner. "I can't believe I forgot the gift. It's because you distracted me. I can't think straight with a pretty woman like you standing in my room."

Blaise stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Neville and Graces standing in the hall. Graces sat up from the wall slowly, her eyes not moving away from his and Neville stayed in his place.

"Serves me right for asking you to just wait," Blaise said slowly, coming over to Graces and weaving his arm around her waist. "I hope you weren't bothered, my darling," he said quietly, tilting her chin towards him so she was meeting his eyes. "I do so hate to think of you being forced into awkward conversation. Come, off to the party we go."

Nevilles legs were glued to the floor as the pair of them passed. He knew he should look away, but the task was impossible. He watched as Graces left, Zabini's arm still wrapped around her waist while he whispered something in her ear. It wasn't until the dark skinned boy looked back and smirked at him that he was able to look down like a fool.

He needed to get out of the hall, out of the castle, hell, out of this world. His chest felt tight and his eyes were stinging and each breath felt like it contained lead. He walked in the opposite direction of where the party was at, desperate to not see Graces and Blaise again. He wanted out. That was the only tangible thing he could get from his mind. He wanted out, but he couldn't even comprehend what that meant. He pushed open the first door he could so that he could be alone and get a grip.

His heart felt like it had been ripped out of his chest and shoved down his throat into his stomach where it was still thumping against his guts. She was there, picture perfect in a dress that made his jaw drop and his tongue twist into knots, with Blaise Zabini's arm around her waist. Neville closed his eyes and tried to rid himself of the image of Zabini's hand trailing along her back possessively as he smirked over at him.

A small creak from the door took away any chance of Neville obliterating the image from his mind as Graces sneaked into the classroom with him.

"Let me explain," she requested, her arms out as though she suspected she was going to have to calm him down.

"There's nothing to explain," Neville declined, his voice cracking from emotion. "It's fine. I get it."

"No you—"

"It's a good match. He's handsome, rich and your family will no doubt approve. I get it. You don't have to say anything about it to me. It's your private life."

"Longbottom, please listen to me for a moment and—"

"I need to get to the party, I don't want to be rude. You should get back to Blaise, he's probably wondering where you're at and-and we were just friends anyway. I hope we can still be friends." Graces opened her mouth to say something, but Neville raised his hand and pushed past her at the door. Not even bothering to turn around when she grabbed his coat.

He wanted to turn left and go back to the Gryffindor tower, pretend to be ill so he could lay down in his bed and put himself back together, but he turned right and headed towards the party.

"Neville, are you okay?"

Luna. Sweet, perfect, breath of pure air, Luna.

"I don't think so," Neville answered honestly, blushing furiously as he realized Harry was standing beside her. "I-I'm just nervous... Dinner parties aren't exactly my thing."

"Not mine either," Harry grumbled. Luna just grinned and offered her other arm for Neville to take.

"I think I shall allow Harry to be the only one to take your arm," Neville chuckled. "Though if it doesn't bother you could I tag along? I don't really want to enter awkwardly alone."

"Yeah, sure," Harry nodded, strolling along with Luna's arm wrapped in his. Neville looked down at Luna silently asking the question of the seriousness of the date, but Luna didn't seem to understand his questioning eyes and just smiled dreamily.

They entered Professor Slughorn's private chambers together, though Neville was doubtful that Slughorn noticed him or Luna. The older man's full focus was on Harry. Clearly Harry was who he truly wanted at the event. He didn't even excuse himself from the conversation he was having with a few other students before he was greeting Harry and offering him a drink.

Neville was suddenly very thankful that he was not the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry pinked as the whole room's attention was brought to him and the Slytherin students that were there sent hateful glares. It was clear from most people's perspective that Harry in no way wanted such attentions, but as always people saw what they wanted to see.

"Luna, can I get you a drink?" Neville as politely, seeing as Harry had been whisked away to look at some old photos.

"Gilly water would be pleasant," Luna smiled, her big eyes taking in the room.

"Gilly water it is then," Neville nodded, quickly moving away from the entrance. He suspected Graces and Blaise would be entering soon and he wanted to be far away from them as possible. Sure enough as he turned the two Slytherins were entering. Blaise grinned cockily as he waved hello to a few other students and Graces seemed to be searching the room. He suspected she was searching for him and hurriedly made to rejoin Luna who had wandered over to Harry's side. He could feel when her eyes were upon him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood and his heart rate escalated, but he refused to look over.

He was going to hold it together. He was. He was going to focus on the party and his friends and hold himself together.

"I think it's quite silly for you not to look at Graces when she is dressed so pretty," Luna commented quietly.

"Self preservation," Neville deadpanned, not bothering to explain when Luna looked up at him questioningly. "It's a long story," Neville murmured, taking a long sip of his own drink. "And not one I want to tell now."

Neville was luckily saved from having to disclose anything as Slughorn had decided then was the moment to have everyone take their seats around the table. Neville took the seat between Luna and Hermione to ensure he wouldn't be sat beside Graces, but unfortunately for him Blaise pulled the seat across from him at the table for Graces to take a seat in. Neville glared at the other boy. He had a suspicion that Zabini was purposefully throwing the fact that Graces was his date in his face. He apparently had not lost the amusement over him being publically turned down by her.

Neville looked away as he leaned into her neck and whispered something in her ear as she took her seat. She had shrugged away from him, but Neville realized that could be for tact. He doubted that Graces wanted to hurt him, but it didn't change the fact that all of this did.

"So, McLaggen?" Neville asked, turning to Hermione for some distractions.

"Oh, umm, just as friends," Hermione said, blushing furiously.

"Does he know that?" Neville asked, as the other boy took his seat beside her and reached for her hand, that Hermione suddenly needed to take a drink of water.

"Don't be cheeky, Neville," Hermione breathed, sending him a glare that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Wouldn't dream," Neville nodded, turning to the door as it opened.

Ginny had now arrived, her eyes red from what he assumed to be tears caused by another one of her and Dean's fights. The table stared at her curiously as she made her apologies and Harry seemed to be the only one to remember any semblance of manners considering he stood, rather awkwardly, when she walked over to the table.

Ginny proceeded to apologize for her tardiness and Neville looked over at her silently asking the question that was on everyone's mind. She nodded her head that she was okay, but Neville didn't feel that she was. Then again he wasn't okay either.

"So, Mr. Zabini, I wasn't aware that you and Miss Malfoy were an item," Slughorn commented, beginning polite dinner conversation.

At the same time Graces said they weren't Blaise had grinned and proclaimed his surprise at Slughorn _not_ knowing.

"Awww, it would seem one of you is a bit hesitant."

"She just likes to play hard to get," Blaise winked. "I'm sure you know how women can be."

"Quite well," Slughorn laughed, jostling Blaise' shoulder like a man congratulating a son, before turning to Graces. "Well, Miss Malfoy, I'm glad you came. It isn't everyday I have dinner with a former model."

"Former?" Blaise scowled.

"Former," Graces confirmed quietly, taking a drink of wine to try and hide the red that had crept to her cheeks. "I lost the contract."

"You never told me you lost the contract," Blaise frowned, turning his body towards Graces and his face actually looking contrite. His usual arrogance was put aside.

"There was nothing to tell," Graces shrugged. "They broke it after my father's incarceration and that was the end of it."

"Well, I wouldn't call it the end of it," Slughorn broke in. "My friend is the CEO for the modeling agency. She told me all about your suit."

"They broke their contract with me with absolutely no grounds," Graces proclaimed unapologetically. "They signed me and I spent months over the summer working for them and then they let me go when I did nothing to break my contract. They said it was over the morality clause in my contract, but I didn't do anything immoral."

"She said that she offered you a very generous severance," Slughorn pointed out, intrigued by Graces' logic.

"Generous," Graces scoffed. "I wouldn't call it that generous at all. She offered to pay out my contract, but her breaking my contract because of a morality clause ruined my career. What company would have hired me after such a scandal? And it wasn't even for my actions. I sued her for what I would have made in my whole modeling career, damages to my reputation and of course the embarrassment I suffered. And apparently the courts seemed to feel that her reneging on our contract was unjustified as well, because I won the settlement just earlier this month."

"And the photos," Slughorn pointed out, a twinkle in his eye. "You sued her for the photos as well."

"They weren't going to use them anyways," Graces shrugged. "She didn't even put up a fight for them. They had sentimental value to me."

"I think I would have been more upset that you turned my friend upside down, but after hearing how you are using that money, I can't say I have the heart to take my friend's side." Graces frowned curiously at Slughorn's statement, but waited for him to explain. "You know, the donation to St. Mungo's Janus Thickey ward."

"Janus Thickey ward?" a Ravenclaw girl questioned, clearly as unfamiliar with that ward as the rest of the table.

"It's the ward for permanent residents," McLaggen informed. "Most of the residents there are mad."

Neville felt as though bugs were crawling on the insides of his skin and a blazing heat was crawling up his collar.

"It was exceptionally generous of you to donate your money to that," Slughorn continued, staring at Graces over his goblet.

Graces took a luxurious sip of wine, leaving Neville to wonder if she was gathering her thoughts on what to say.

"That donation was anonymous," she informed, placing her goblet down and looking pointedly at Slughorn. "I was very specific with the director that no one was to know where the funds came from. I distinctly remember saying absolutely no one."

"Oh, don't blame the witch," Slughorn grinned, completely unaware of Graces' displeasure. "She just was telling me all about the wonderful things her anonymous donor was doing for the ward and my curiosity was piqued, so I enticed her with some sherry and soon your name just slipped out."

"What all is being done?" Neville asked Slughorn, ignoring Graces' glare.

"Oh, well, the whole ward is being expanded and full master bedrooms are being added for each resident. Miss Malfoy here insisted that it look and feel more like a home. She even has had magical windows installed that show the patients a tranquil area like a garden or a field. Then there is to be a wall sized aquarium placed in the sitting room, so that patients can always have something intriguing to look at. There are special visiting rooms to give families privacy, silent alarms set on the beds and doors and, oh yes, funding to fully staff the whole wing with multiple mediwitches twenty-four seven."

Neville was now staring at Graces, along with the rest of the table. The blonde glanced across the table at him for a moment, before looking back down quietly.

"You're a determined woman," Slughorn continued, a proud smile on his face as though Graces were one of his own. "Neeandra told me what you did to get all these people to agree to your deadline. You could run an empire with your business skills, Miss Malfoy."

"And tell me, my dearest," Blaise smiled, taking Graces hand in his own and gaining her eyes. "What is Professor Slughorn referring to? What did you do to get all those people to bend to your will?"

"I don't want to talk about this," Graces hissed, her cheeks turning more and more pink from frustration.

"It's already being discussed," Blaise smiled. "Come, come, Graces, play with us. You wouldn't want to be rude."

Blaise and Graces' eyes were locked together in a challenge. Neville half expected her to say she would behave however she wanted, but it seemed good breeding won and Graces swallowed what seemed to be her pride and offered a forced smile to Slughorn.

"Well, I'm sure Neeandra told you that I had her come to Hogwarts to go over blue prints and such. From there I pit all of the companies—architectural, designers, things of that nature—against one another. I had all of them in the same room and told them what I wanted and when one said it wasn't enough time I raised my offer and asked the next person and so on and so forth until I got the answer I wanted."

"Remarkable," Slughorn breathed. "And—"

"Did you go to the wing?" Neville interrupted distressed. "Did you actually go there?"

"Neville, it's okay," Hermione whispered, placing a hand over his as he trembled from emotion.

Neville shrugged her hand off and met Graces' eyes, hoping to any Gods that would listen that she hadn't. That she wasn't so bold as to think that he would be okay with her invading his privacy like that for whatever reason.

"No, I didn't," Graces answered awkwardly, clearly not comfortable with Neville bringing this up in front of so many people.

"What does it matter to you?" Blaise drawled.

"Neville's parents are patients there," Slughorn answered, causing a few people around to choke on their drink.

"You're parents are _there_?" Blaise drawled, a look of amusement coming over him. "I thought they died during the war. They were Aurors, weren't they?"

"They were," Slughorn said gloomily. "They were tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange and a few others until they were driven mad. I knew them both. Wrote both their letters of recommendation for the Auror department too. I even suggested to Moody that he keep them together as partners. They were a wonderful pair, both complemented the other perfectly." Neville shrunk in his chair as everyone curiously looked over at him.

The whole school was going to know by tomorrow. It wasn't like when Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Harry found out, most of the people at this table would not keep his secret. But the worst part of it all, the part that had Neville holding his breath so he wouldn't say or do something stupid because of his emotions was the way Slughorn talked about his parents. I _knew_ them both, they _were_ a wonderful pair... past tense. He wanted to stop Slughorn's walk down memory lane by rudely reminding him that his parents were not dead.

"When I first heard the news I was devastated, just devastated. I kept thinking of Frank and Alice when they were my pupils. Frank was a remarkable student, exceptionally talented and Alice... Alice was such a gentle soul," Slughorn became quiet for a moment and Neville continued to stare down under the table. "You must be so overjoyed to hear what Miss Malfoy has done," Slughorn beamed, clearly wanting Neville to say something, but Neville couldn't not when a rock had logged in his throat.

"What made you want to donate to that wing?" Hermione asked, successfully taking the attention away from Neville and back onto Graces.

"Oh, well she didn't go in expecting that ward," Slughorn answered, clearly happy to take over the discussion. "According to Neeandra she got a letter from Miss Malfoy with a sizable donation to the Healer program, as she does each year around this time, and then at the end of the letter she explained she wished to totally re-renovate a department and wanted to know which department received the least funding and staff. And there you have it."

"Bribing your way into the healer program, Miss Malfoy?" Blaise teased, leaning in close to Graces with a familiarity that Neville did not particularly appreciate.

"Doesn't hurt."

"Is that what you want? To be a healer?" Slughorn asked. Graces nodded her head and Slughorn immediately began to talk about his connections with the admissions department, but before he became to carried away Graces stopped him.

"I'm afraid I've taken up all of your dinner conversation," she laughed charmingly. "Perhaps you and I could get together another time to discuss my application to the healer program. Maybe you could look over my transcripts?"

Slughorn seemed delighted at this prospect and Neville wondered if Graces was going to be one of his other trophies to showcase. He imagined she would be if it meant she would get into a healer program. Slughorn was beginning to make his way in conversation around the table, but Neville wasn't the least bit interested in how McLaggen's Uncle was doing and he already knew everything about Hermione's parents being dentists. So his attention was completely on Graces.

He knew the blonde was aware of his eyes and a few times she shot him a warning glare, clearly not wanting him to continue with his staring, but he couldn't help it. He kept thinking about what she did. He couldn't even name the things he was feeling. He wanted to say something to her, she was right in front of him and he couldn't say a word. It was frustrating and confusing beyond all measure.

"So what was the settlement, if I may ask," Blaise murmured, clearly unimpressed with Hermione's description of her parent's profession.

"An estimation of what I would have made in my modeling career."

"And what was the estimation?"

"What do you think?" Graces asked with a wicked smile.

Blaise narrowed his eyes for a moment, before taking out a piece of parchment and quill and writing something down. He slid the paper over to Graces who unfolded it and blushed crimson.

"You're flattering me," she scoffed, throwing the paper playfully at his chest.

"Perhaps," Blaise smirked. "Or perhaps I know more of what you are worth."

"I didn't determine it, my solicitor did. They talked to some professionals and all that," Graces said waving her hand.

"And the outcome was?"

Graces took back the paper that had bounced on the table from her throw and plucked the quill away from Blaise and scribbled down something, that Neville leaned forward to try and read, unfortunately he couldn't get a look. Blaise however hummed an agreement at seeing the figure.

"That's a nice bit of coin."

"Isn't it? I think me submitting the memory of the agency telling me that I would be listed as one of the greats was what solidified the settlement I wanted."

"And you donated all that?" Graces nodded through her sip of wine. "You're some witch," Blaise said. "I hope my mother doesn't hear about this or she will be pushing for me to formally court you."

"She shouldn't. It was anonymous."

"Well, we've seen how well that went."

Graces smiled ruefully before returning her attention to the table. Neville knew he shouldn't be staring, that the last thing he should be doing is gawking at Graces, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Not even when Slughorn said his name three times at the table, his attention was completely captivated by the girl in front of him. Though the sharp kick to his shins from her awoke him pretty quickly.

"Right sorry," he blushed. "Uh-what was your question?"

Slughorn bristled, but asked again what Neville's plans were after Hogwarts.

"Oh, I well, I'm taking an apprenticeship with Professor Sprout."

"For Herbology?" Slughorn asked, clearly not that impressed with Neville's passions.

"Yeah."

"Oh," Slughorn breathed, clearly disappointed. "I just thought that after last year and based on who your father was you would be considering the Auror program."

"Nah," Neville smiled humble. "I don't think I'm cut out to be an Auror. I'm scared of my shadow half the time," he added, chuckling at his own humor. "I would much prefer a quieter life. After my apprenticeship I think I would just like to teach here. Professor Sprout said she is hoping to retire a few years after I graduate, so..." Neville let his words trail off as to what he was hoping for.

Neville, realizing that he had truly bored the party with his ambitions, quieted awkwardly and stared down at his plate. He looked up briefly at Graces who was glaring at him over her dinner to continue. The problem was Neville wasn't sure what he was supposed to be continuing about. Slughorn seemed to have grown bored with Neville and was moving onto dismissing everyone for dessert which he had lined on the other side of the room when Neville remembered what Graces had outlined for him to say when they were in the barn dancing.

"Sorry, I, uh, I have a small business currently. I will probably continue with that after graduation."

"A business?" Slughorn grinned. "Well, why didn't you mention that before?"

"I don't really think of it often," Neville shrugged. "It's more of an arrangement then a business, but it's doing well I suppose."

"What is your business?"

"I sell my spelled flowers to a muggle perfume company. My flowers give off more scent than the ones the muggles grow so they buy from me."

"Neville, is the perfume you gave me from the company that buys your flowers?" Hermione asked excitedly. Neville nodded. "It's lovely. You didn't tell me that it was your flowers that made it."

"I knew," Luna smiled dreamily, smelling her wrist. "He gave me a bottle as well."

Luna held out her arm as though offering the table a smell, but everyone, minus Harry and Ginny, declined.

"Where's my bottle?" Ginny asked, playfully giving Neville a glare.

"In my trunk. I have yet to get a moment alone with you, so I planned on giving it to you on the train."

Ginny seemed satisfied with his answer and Professor Slughorn again dismissed the table for dessert and mingling, making sure to grab Neville from the rest of the group and talk to him about some contacts he may be interested in.

Neville nodded along to what Slughorn was saying to him, but he had no desire to have his small arrangement become an empire. He sold the flowers he had to the one perfume company and he was happy with just that. He didn't want anything bigger than what was happening now. The extra coin was nice, but if he made this into anything like what Slughorn was saying he would have to dedicate much more time to it and he would much rather focus on his apprenticeship and a certain blonde. Neville watched as Blaise and Graces talked to two other Slytherin students in the corner. He so desperately wanted a moment alone with her. He wasn't even sure if they were still meeting tonight. He had to talk to her.

What she did for his parents, for him, was just. He didn't know what to say. He was still at a loss, but he knew he wanted to say something. Lucky for him, Slughorn excused himself from conversation just as Graces walked away from her group for another sweet. Neville walked over and looked at the pastries and pretended to be interested in the ones beside Graces.

"Graces, I—"

"Now is not the time," she murmured not even allowing him to finish.

"I know, but I just wanted to say that," Neville paused and tried to swallow some of the emotion building in his voice. "I can never tell you how much this means to me and I also can't believe you did that and I... you really shouldn't have and if I had known you were going to I never would have—"

Neville paused his speech as Graces hand went over his. It was such a simple touch and yet it spoke sonnets. He looked up at her quicksilver eyes and suddenly couldn't breathe.

"We can discuss this tonight," Graces whispered. "I'll see you tonight." She hesitated a moment, looking up at him with a type of fear he hadn't seen in her before. "Happy Christmas, Neville."

And with that she was gone. Neville watched her go, trying to decipher what had just happened if he had heard correctly.

"What was that about?" Harry asked frowning slightly at what he had seen. "Was Malfoy being nice?"

"Yeah," Neville murmured hollowly, his head spinning from Graces words. "I thanked her for the ward and she-she..." _Said my given name..._ Neville became quiet for a moment and turned to look at Harry. "So, uh, you and Luna, huh?" Neville asked, knowing full well nothing was going on, but wanting the attention off him.

Harry suddenly became beet red.

"Yeah, well, I just... we're just here as friends," Harry muttered awkwardly.

"Oh, good."

"Good?" Harry frowned.

"Luna's kind of adopted me as her 'brother'. As her chosen fictive kin I am required to dislike you if you date her and keep an eye on you two."

Both boys shared a small laugh over their drinks before Luna joined them.

"What's so funny?" she asked, her big eyes looking at the two of them.

"Just reminding Harry here to be a gentleman."

"It looks like you should give that talk to McLaggen," Luna pointed out, as Hermione escaped from behind some curtains. Neville scowled and took a step forward, but Harry stopped him.

"I think I can handle this one," he sighed, heading over to where Hermione disappeared. Harry didn't get far, because as soon as he neared the curtain hiding Hermione Filch barged through the doors.

"I caught this one trying to gatecrash!" Filch proclaimed, shaking Draco by the collar.

"Let go of me!" Malfoy barked, slapping the older man's hands away. "I wasn't gatecrashing!"

"I caught him lurking right outside the room, peering in from a crack!" Filch informed Slughorn, ignoring Draco. "I already sent Mrs. Norris to his head of house, he will be coming soon."

Graces moved away from the back of the room to join her brother, a look of shocked concern stamped on her face. Neville saw the brief glimmer of shock on Draco's face at seeing her and frowned as Draco turned his sight to Blaise.

"I wasn't gatecrashing," he proclaimed more confidently, glaring at Blaise in a way that sent a chill down everyone's spine. "I just came for my sister. Graces, we're leaving." Graces frowned and opened her mouth as though to protest, but Draco held up a hand and silenced her. "Now, Graces."

Graces turned and set her drink down before hurrying over to her brother.

"Draco, wait!" Blaise called, hurrying over to the twins. "I—"

"Get away from me!" Draco snarled, pulling Graces behind him. "You didn't even ask! Even Nott had the decency to talk to me before asking her to accompany him to the ball! There are rules! Standards that if you—"

"It wasn't a date! I swear it was just—"

"I don't believe you," Draco growled, turning towards the door.

"You have to have your brother approve your dates?" Ginny mocked, staring at Graces who blushed slightly.

"It's proper."

"It's outdated," Ginny laughed.

"Maybe, but unlike you I didn't arrive to a party late, eyes all puffy, because some boy wronged me. It wouldn't happen in my situation because my brother would ensure I was treated properly."

Ginny flinched at Graces' comments but held her chin up.

"I understand that _you_ in particular clearly do not care for tradition, but I do."

"I don't know what girl would care to have her brother or father decide who she can see," Ginny retorted smugly. "I would rather make my own mistakes. I don't need daddy or big brother to come clean up my messes and I sure don't need them taking care of a bloke for me."

"It's smart," Graces proclaimed. "Who knows and loves you more? Romantic love blinds you, dating without family is like trying to find a diamond in a dark cave. Someone needs to look out for you. Not to mention the rules for courting are so strict any guy that goes through them has to care about you on some level. The three months of separation weeds out who don't like that." Graces snapped her fingers for emphasis, but Ginny didn't seem at all impressed.

"There's a three month span of separation?" Hermione asked distastefully.

"Now-now," Slughorn quieted. "Let's not turn up our noses at such an important part of our culture. When I was younger we still upheld these values, and I for one feel that it's refreshing to see that it's still practiced."

"Thank you, professor," Draco bowed. "I appreciate that."

"Of course," Slughorn smiled, appearing to like the drama that had broken out at his party. "I remember going through the three months of separation, it really isn't so bad. Sure, you don't get to talk or see the girl you're courting, but the family is very involved. I remember I would have dinner with the girl's father every weekend and I must have seen her brothers close to every day. It really is like an interview. I understand Mr. Malfoy being so upset." Draco nodded, but pressed Graces towards the door. "Please, stay. Both of you. I'm sure Mr. Zabini and you could work this out over some wine and your sister was having such a grand time. I insist you both stay."

Draco wasn't sure if he needed to be relieved at this turn of events or wary. He stood calculating what his next move should be. Take Graces and leave, abandoning the idea of placing the poisoned mead with Slughorn's other gifts, or stay and wait for an opportune time.

_Now or never._

Draco nodded that he would stay and pulled Graces closer to him for support.

"Wonderful!" Slughorn proclaimed, handing him a glass of firewhiskey and retreating back to the party and leaving him, Graces and Blaise in awkward silence.

"Draco, let me explain," Blaise started cautiously. "It wasn't a date. Graces asked if I would take her earlier today, I had originally planned on taking another girl, but she was insistent I bring her and—"

"She's my sister. She's my sister and you're supposed to be my friend."

"Draco, I would never touch Graces. I swear on my life. I know I flirt and play with her, but it's all a game."

"Oh, so she's a game to you."

"No!" Blaise pleaded. "No. I mean it's just fun. She knows it and I know it."

"Fun?" Draco questioned, his teeth now bared dangerously.

"No! Not like that! I love Graces. I love her like you love her. She could be my own flesh and blood. I have no intentions of touching her, I swear."

Draco knew all of this to be true, he honestly trusted Blaise around Graces more than most people. He liked Blaise, respected him, and at the end of the day Draco knew him to care about Graces in the sincerest form. His sister had a knack for finding loyal friends. But he had to make this seem real, he needed everyone here to believe that he sincerely was there because he thought Blaise was being inappropriate.

"Draco," Graces whispered. "He's not lying. It's all true, I asked. This isn't a date."

Draco eyed his sister for a moment before demanding that Blaise leave them in private, he turned his back away from any on lookers and tilted Graces chin up so he could look at her square in the eye.

"I know," he revealed sternly. "I'm not here because of you."

"Then-then why are you here?"

"My mission."

Graces had no time to ask questions before Snape came through the doors, an extremely sour look on his face as he saw Draco standing there. Draco had forgotten that Filch had sent for his head of house and inwardly cursed as the older man moved towards him. Luckily, Slughorn seemed all too happy to pull Snape away and explain the situation.

Draco knew that Snape wasn't going to buy the story though and he slunk his way over to where the other gifts were placed and left the bottle. No one should have been able to see, other than Graces who had walked with him and blocked any other person's view. The table where people were leaving gifts was thankfully one of the tables that held pictures of some of Slughorn's more famous pupils. Draco and Graces just had to feign interest in one of the Quidditch players pictures displayed and there laid his excuse in being there.

Draco didn't jump when he felt a firm hand go to his shoulders and dark voice demand they leave. He had been expecting Snape to be furious and he also expected the man to take him from the party. The two of them walked towards the door with Graces following behind. Draco didn't care though, it was done. He was done. This was all going to be over soon and no one would have any idea who was to blame. He and Graces were—

A loud crash broke him away from his thoughts and he turned to see Neville Longbottom standing by the gift table with the bottle of mead Draco had just placed down shattered all around him.


	61. Chapter 61

Neville watched the last few ticks of his watch's hand as it turned the hour to midnight. That was it. He had made the deal with himself that he would wait until midnight then leave. It made little sense to stay in a freezing barn waiting for someone who just wasn't coming. He sat up from the soft bed of hay he had chosen to lie down in for the past hour and picked up the gift he had brought to give Graces.

He was numb to feelings. He had felt way too much throughout the day to feel anything now at this time of night. He had believed that when midnight came and Graces wasn't there he would have been devastated, hating himself for breaking that bottle, but the time came and he wasn't. He just wanted to go to his dorm and sleep.

He had almost reached the door to leave when the wood burst open and Graces came staggering in still dressed in what he had seen her in earlier only now she was clutching her heels in her numb fingers and was soaking wet from the snow she must have stumbled in.

"Bloody hell!" Neville exclaimed, taking off his coat and wrapping it around her. "You're freezing. Why are you not wearing your shoes? Where's your coat?"

"Did you do it on p-purpose?" Graces asked desperately, her teeth chattering against one another. "Did you break the bottle on purpose?"

Neville wasn't even caring to answer that at the moment, he picked up the blonde in one swift movement, making sure to keep her bundled in his coat. He jumped a little as he felt her icy skin come into contact with his neck, but he just pulled her in closer, hoping his body heat could do something, before sitting her down on an old work table.

Her legs and feet were red and raw from the snow outside and Neville bent down and tried to warm the skin with his hands, hoping he could rub the cold off before she became ill.

"A-answer me!" Graces exclaimed, trying to move her feel away but to numb from the cold to succeed. "D-did you d-do it on p-purpose?"

Neville gripped her feet sternly letting them thaw in his hands and looked up at the hysterical girl above him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Why would I break the professor's gift on purpose?"

"Don't play dumb with me," Graces snapped. "Why did you do it? Why?"

"Graces, calm down."

"I am calm!" Graces roared. "I'm calm! Draco however is having a panic attack! Why would you do this to us? You know what we face! We needed that bottle to—"

Neville stood up and covered Graces mouth to keep her silent. Both students were as motionless as statues, aside from Neville's labored breath. He didn't move his hand away, though it wasn't necessary seeing as Graces was too shocked to speak.

"You and your brother had nothing to do with that bottle," Neville snarled. "Absolutely nothing! I was just looking at the photos on the table and I accidently knocked a bottle of mead down. That's it. Draco never put down a bottle of mead and he certainly didn't crash a party just to slip that bottle there."

Neville removed his hand and looked away as Graces began sobbing openly in her palms.

"H-how did you know?" she moaned, her hands still buried.

"I don't know anything," Neville murmured. "Because if I knew something I would have to tell someone. I would have to. I don't know anything. Do you understand?"

Graces didn't answer him, but judging by the growing amount of tears Neville knew she understood. He jumped up on the table with her and held her close as he tried to warm her up. Eventually he realized she needed more than just his coat and he went over to her gift and ripped it open taking out a down comforter that was sheeted with a dark purple duvet. Graces hiccuped her sobs as he wrapped it around her and tucked the bottom in a way that warmed her feet. She looked around at her makeshift wrap and stared up and Neville questioningly.

"You got me bed linen?"

Neville blushed and murmured that he had an idea for how to get her to sleep well. Graces waited for him to continue and Neville sighed before giving her his thoughts.

"You sleep well when we...are together, but I remembered you also slept well when you used my coat and slept in the barn. You sleep well when you spend the night with Draco too, so I thought maybe you just need to feel safe at night. I don't think it's the sex that makes you sleep well, I think it's my scent that lingers on your skin. Just like when you slept in my coat you could smell me. I wasn't there, but subconsciously you may have thought I was."

"So, I, uh, I've been sleeping in those sheets the past month," he said nervously, now realizing how odd that sounded. "So it smells like me." Graces frowned and seemed to be trying to decide if that was odd. She leaned low into the covers to smell them and Neville cringed as he realized how stupid it all was. "Hopefully it's not a bad smell..."

"It's not," Graces whispered. "I like how you smell. Thank you, this is... sweet. Thank you."

Graces seemed to understand that they couldn't talk about the bottle of mead, but it didn't stop silent tears from rolling down her cheeks. Neville knew when he broke the bottle that he was sabotaging Draco, he didn't see the blonde put it down, but he noticed the bottle appeared after Draco went over. And he knew that Draco wasn't at that party because of Graces. He could always tell when Graces lied, and he realized now that he also could tell when Draco was lying. They both were so much a like.

"Graces," Neville murmured gently, going to his knees in front of her and laying his hands on her arms. "I-I can't allow bad things to happen. I can't just stand there and let someone be killed or hurt. I'm sorry, but I have to do what's right. And I swear to you that I will always always remember to keep you and Draco safe, but at the same time I can't just stand by and do nothing. It would be the same as doing it myself. Do you understand?"

Graces' face scrunched up in anguish, but she nodded. Neville could tell she was holding her breath. She tended to do that when she didn't want to cry and he stood up and held her close to his chest. The touch alone seemed to break the dam and she was back to sobbing in his arms, moving her hands out of the sheets to hold him tight.

"You and Draco are safe," Neville murmured. "You can be at that safe house in two minutes if you have to. You are both safe." Neville paused for a moment debating if he should continue. "In fact," he began slowly. "You could go now. Draco doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to. You all could go right now, Graces. I've taken care of everything. It's all ready for you."

"I can't. My f-father. I just can't. Draco would never," Graces just let the explanation drop, seeing no need to go into details. Neville found himself wishing Lucius Malfoy wasn't in Azkaban as Graces sobbed over her situation. He wanted to hold her close, but he was so confused. He was confused about everything.

"Graces, is Draco in danger right now?"

"No, not now," Graces shook tightly. A relief that Neville didn't know he needed swept over him at Graces words.

"Do you need to leave to be with him?"

"He doesn't want me around right now. Besides, I don't even know where he is," she added dejectedly.

A pregnant silence infolded them. Neville felt as though they were at an impasse. This could very well be the end. It seemed that way for certain. He didn't know how to get back on the road they were on, he felt like they had both lost their way somewhere. He had broken that bottle and he knew that that act alone could cost him Graces. He hadn't thought it out when he pushed the bottle over the edge, he hadn't considered that he could in that act be breaking what he had with Graces, but now he realized he may have.

An eery cold gripped Neville from the insides and he felt as though a dementor had entered the barn and was directly behind him. His heart sank to his shoes and he was sure that his last moments of happiness had long passed.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked quietly, the chill of his new isolation seeping into his bones.

Graces looked up at him from her shell of sheets and he saw a brief glimpse of something flash across her face before it was gone.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No, no I don't, but I'm not foolish enough to think that my actions had no consequences."

Graces seemed to be chewing on his words. Clearly she understood the validity of his statement and yet she didn't seem willing to take it.

"I want to be with you," she whispered. "I don't plan on returning to the dungeons tonight. I'm staying here with you."

"Even after—"

"Even after," Graces confirmed, offering him a small smile.

"You don't hate me?"

"No, I don't." Graces sat still for a moment before asking Neville if he was still mad at her.

"I don't know," Neville answered, being honest. "First you want space and refuse to tell me why. Then you very rudely ignore my questions in Herbology—"

"You were asking rather rudely," Graces pointed out, apparently not feeling at all bad for her quick exit.

"Can you blame me?" Neville asked, searching her face for understanding. "You do this a lot Graces. All the time. We get close and you move back. You act as though I'm going to change the arrangement and I'm not. I understand perfectly what we are able to have and I have not asked for more than you can give."

"No, you haven't," Graces contended, holding the sheets closer to her. "You're right, but I did need that time. It couldn't be helped. It won't happen again."

"You said that last time."

"Trust me, Longbottom. It's over. I'm not going to ask again."

"I wish I could believe that," Neville snipped, unable to bring himself to take Graces words.

"I'll prove it to you with time."

Time. She had said time. Neville let that thought roll around in his mind. Apparently Graces had no intent on never seeing him again. She clearly was in the mindset that they would continue seeing one another.

"What were you doing with Blaise?" he asked finally.

Graces sighed, but looked up at him to answer.

"You wanted me there," she shrugged. "And I thought of a way to be there. I hadn't even decided on going until an hour before and-and Blaise hadn't asked me. I just told him I wanted to go and to break off whatever plans he had and take me instead of this week's squeeze. I came for you," Graces stressed desperately. "Nothing is going on between me and Blaise. Nothing. I swear."

She came for him. Neville immediately felt like a fool. He should have realized. He should have at least let her explain when she cornered him in that classroom. If he would have let her explain he wouldn't have spent the party with a broken heart.

"Graces," Neville began slowly, his voice steady but thick. "I-I'm so confused. I don't understand what's going on. You don't talk to me for a week and then you go and donate a whole ward to my parents. I don't know how to even thank you for that, it makes me feel like I'm indebted to you or something and—"

"That is precisely the reason you were never supposed to find out," Graces said bitterly.

"But I do know," Neville pointed out softly. "I know and I don't know how to feel about it. I'm exceptionally grateful, don't get me wrong," Neville inserted quickly, not wanting Graces to feel that what she had done wasn't appreciated. "But it's too much. I mean people don't do that kind of stuff for other people and—"

"You're giving my family a safe house!" Graces broke in, not allowing him to finish thinking out loud. "Do you have any idea the risk you are taking doing that? If anyone finds out that you did that you will be killed. You're saving our lives."

"Yes, but—"

"Longbottom, that is a far greater price than what I paid for that wing. I didn't even have to use much from my own vault" Graces waved, as though the price was nothing "The settlement covered most of it. It's money I won't be missing. What I would be missing is my brother," Graces said willfully. "You have no idea how it would kill me if he was gone from this world. I would die from heartache alone. You've saved us. What I did was hardly anything in comparison."

Neville didn't really agree with Graces' thoughts on the matter, but he also didn't see how he could make someone like her understand how spending that sort of money made him uncomfortable. At the same time he felt like he couldn't say anything. That money was helping his parents and others as well. He thought about what he was going to see on Christmas and for the first time in he didn't know how long he wanted to go see them. The thought created a well of emotions in him that made it difficult not to get teary eyed.

He looked up to say something, a word of gratitude, but nothing seemed to be enough.

"You're welcome," Graces smiled gently, sensing what he wanted to say better than he could have hoped to say it.

Neville nodded and watched as Graces continued to shiver despite the sheets wrapped around her.

"We didn't dry your dress," Neville murmured, thinking of how uncomfortable Graces must be.

"It has to air dry," Graces smiled wryly. "So I couldn't spell it without ruining the dress."

"Oh," Neville mouthed silently, looking down and pushing some straw with his shoes. "You can undress, if you need," Neville pointed out keeping his eyes down, as though to show Graces he wouldn't look.

"I'm so cold, I don't really want to move," Graces laughed, tightening her grip on the sheets.

Neville forced himself to smile at her jest, but it didn't meet his eyes.

"Have you come to a decision about us?" Graces frowned at his question, but didn't answer, just waited for him to continue. "You always want distance when you are thinking of us and I thought you had wanted space because—" Neville shrugged and then realized he didn't quite know."Well, was it about us?" Graces nodded slowly and turned away. "Have you reached a conclusion?"

"I have," Graces admitted cautiously. "But I-I don't want to talk about it now. It-it doesn't feel... right."

"Right," Neville deadpanned.

"I just was thinking that—" Graces stopped and let out a sigh. "Now isn't the time. It's nothing you need to trouble yourself over, honest."

Neville highly doubted that, but he also was in no mood to fight with Graces the night before he left for break, not when she was bearing the freezing cold and offering him a small reassuring smile like that. He nodded and moved closer to her, fighting the urge to hold her close so she didn't freeze to death.

"I, uh, have something else for you," he started awkwardly. "It's in the castle."

"I have something for you too," Graces blushed. "It's in the castle as well, I never went back to my common room, so it's in my nightstand."

"Ah, so that's why you're dressed so."

"Yeah, I just ran over here as soon as I could. I was afraid you would leave. I was so late, so I just ran and then I feel in some snow and... it's all so foolish now."

"It's not, I was about to leave."

"Yes, but I could have owled you to come back," Graces whispered.

"I wouldn't have, though."

Neville didn't say it to be malicious he just said it as the truth, Graces glanced up at him for a moment and quickly looked down trying to hide her hurt.

"I would have cooled down eventually," Neville offered, seeing how sad she had become. "And I probably would have regretted not coming back over the break when I was missing you, but," Neville shrugged. "this hasn't been our best of weeks." Graces nodded and brushed away a small tear. Neville hating how sad she looked took her hand and waited for her to say something, but she didn't. She just held his hand and this small act seemed to stop the tears.

"So, can I take you to the castle?" Neville asked calmly, prepared for Graces to say no.

"Yes, I suppose I'll have to make it back eventually."

"Good," Neville huffed, not allowing Graces to jump off the table. "I'll carry you."

"Oh, you don't have to, I—"

"You're in no state to walk in the snow," Neville cut in firmly gathering her in his arms, making sure to keep her bundled in the sheets. "I'll carry you. It's a bit far."

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," Neville informed, a real smile tugging on his lips. "You ready?"

"My shoes," Graces pointed out, nodding her chin in the direction her heels were placed. Neville carried her over and she reached out and took them, tucking them in the blankets with her.

"Okay, well, I guess we should go," Neville declared, looking down at her in his arms. Surprised at how much he wanted to kiss her, despite everything. Graces nodded and looked away, clearly uncomfortable with him carrying her like this. Neville ignored her discomfort and pulled her closer, though, bracing himself for the icy winds they were about to experience.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The cold air slammed against Graces' face as the barn door opened, causing her to turn and nuzzle closer to Neville's warm chest as he carried her through the snow. She couldn't see him, as they had disillusioned themselves, but the scent of him was heavy all around her causing her to feel a bit intoxicated and warm despite the fact her clothes were still damp and cold.

"Where are we going?" she whispered, not recognizing the area of the castle Neville was walking her in.

"You'll see soon enough."

If anyone else had been carrying her an abandoned end of a castle she would have demanded to know right away where they were going, but since it was Neville she just closed her eyes and rested, trusting him completely.

"Do you remember our second time together?" Neville asked quietly, turning down a hall that had no light.

"Yes, you were a bit rough."

Graces couldn't see Neville, but she knew that his ears must have been burning red from her words. She giggled as he stammered an apology, but quickly informed him it was fine. That she most certainly didn't mind.

"Anyways," Neville continued, clearly wanting to get off the subject. "You being the prat that you are ran away after and as you recall I ran after you. Well, my running after you led to an encounter with Peeves which, unfortunately for me, ended with an encounter with Snape who gave me a Saturday detention with Filch."

"He didn't," Graces groaned, now feeling even more awful for how she had treated Neville at the beginning.

"He sure did."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I wanted to focus more on how your running away was inconsiderate to my feelings. Besides, me running after you and then believing Peeves to be taking me to your common room was pretty foolish on my part. I was pretty embarrassed."

"I'm sorry," Graces whispered, nuzzling closer to his neck.

"You are long forgiven, Miss Malfoy," Neville chuckled, his lips finding the top of her head. It was the first time that night he had kissed her and Graces felt her heart soar from it. She had been wondering if she had truly damaged them beyond repair up until his lips tenderly caressed her. She was going to reach up and kiss him herself, but Neville continued to talk, unable to see. "It was during my detention that I found this place," Neville explained, standing in front an old picture of a garden with a couple sitting against an old tree. The man in the picture looked up at Neville lazily before straightening up and coming forward. He clearly had not seen another person in quite sometime, because he was more enthused than most pictures to get a password.

"Water Iris," Neville said calmly, causing a door to appear and open welcomely to them.

Graces eyes widened as they stepped into what she suspected was a long gone professor's living quarters. Neville placed her down slowly and she moved away without even thinking. There was a small dining area, kitchen, living area and bedroom. It must have been for a professor that was married. She knew that bachelor professors didn't get such accommodations. The rooms were all clean and she smiled as she saw some small decorations were added to make it appear more like a home.

"I thought that, well, maybe a place of your own could help with the night terrors as well. Not to mention I, uh, was sort of hoping you would allow me to stay tonight," Neville added nervously. Graces turned to look at him at the suggestion, the charm had been taken off and she could see Neville's shy nature shining through. "We won't do anything and I plan on sleeping in there," Neville gestured to the living room where a couch was set up so he could sleep. "But I want to see if the sheets work and I don't want you sleeping with your curtains drawn and silencing charms up so you don't disturb people. I want to be here in case they don't work." Graces' mind was so preoccupied with the thought of spending the night in the same place as Neville she didn't say anything. "Is that okay?"

_Was it?_

"Yes, yes it's... fine," Graces finished quietly, turning away so Neville didn't notice how unsettled she had become.

"Good."

Graces was trying to regain her thoughts, grasping at something to say, but before she could put herself together Neville was behind her gently taking the sheets that were acting as her shield.

"I'm going to dry these and set up your bed for the night," Neville informed gently. "There is a loo just over there. Go ahead and draw yourself a hot bath, maybe we can save you yet from a cold. Everything you should need will be in there."

Graces held her elbows close and nodded before hurrying towards the loo without a glance behind. She closed the door—more aggressively than she planned—and leaned against the wood trying to gain some semblance of thought. She never expected this. Not at all. She could hear Neville moving in the bedroom which was attached to the loo and felt a surge of panic. He said nothing was going to happen and she believed him, but it didn't take away the fact that she felt a certain pressure. Like something _should_ happen. And that left her with the question of if she _wanted_ something to happen.

That thought alone sent another wave of panic through her. She had wanted to be sure and she thought she was sure, but now faced with the ultimate test she was back to wondering. A soft knock at the door she was leaning on had her jump about a foot in the air.

"Graces?" Neville murmured against the door. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, of-of course," Graces squeaked. "Why do you ask?"

There was a long pause before Neville answered her.

"I just... well the water isn't running."

"Right," Graces said lamely. "Right, yes, well... everything is fine."

"Okay... well, take your time."

Graces didn't respond back after that and instead began to peel her dress off. Her skin was so cold underneath that she couldn't even feel it. She crossed herself with her arms and looked over to the door to make sure Neville couldn't see. It was silly and ridiculous, but she was so aware of herself in that moment. She tried to shake her self-consciousness and remind herself that it was just her in the loo alone, but she wrapped a towel around her anyways as she made her way over to the large basin.

She stopped as she saw a small gift sitting in the middle of the tub. Hesitantly she plucked it up. Now even more embarrassed, she turned on the taps and sat down on the edge of the bath. Neville was not made for wrapping, she thought affectionately, staring at the parcel. It was easy to see where he became frustrated in the wrapping process and though he tried to cover his mistakes with a ribboned bow, it showed plainly.

She began opening her gift trying to guess as to what it could be considering Neville had left it at the bottom of a tub. She knew it was going to be some sort of bath essential, but it didn't deter her from being mildly excited. She doubted she would use it, her skin was too sensitive for most things, but the thought counted.

She tore off the last remnants of paper and smiled as she saw a lovely bottle of bath oil. She was about to place it down away from the tub when she noticed the label. It was her name printed on the glass. She moved the bottle closer and realised that this wasn't just a generic bottle of bath oil. It was made for her.

Graces

White lilies, white cotton and lavender

Made especially for you.

Hypoallergenic

"Is this for me?" she called, opening the bottle and closing her eyes as the sweet smell overtook her senses.

"Hmmm? Oh... no, that's for another Graces I know. Sorry, for the confusion."

Graces smiled at Neville's humor and poured some of the oil in the tub, allowing the scent take over the room with the rising steam.

"It's lovely," she said, her voice louder so Neville could hear her through the door. "Is it from that perfume company?"

"It is"

"Your flowers?"

"All except the cotton."

"It's lovely."

"So you've said."

Graces could hear Neville's smirk through the door and giggled at the image, before stepping into the tub. She had forgotten how much it hurt when your skin began thawing quickly from the cold. It felt as though her legs were burning from the water and she hissed as she lowered herself the rest of the way in. After a few minutes though the warmth became welcome and she leaned back so that she could lie down.

The bath was much smaller than what she was used to and she had to keep her knees up rather than lay them down to fit, but she still felt completely relaxed. She watched as her hair floated out around her like moonbeams reflecting off a lake.

The realization had not escaped her that she was alone with Neville and naked. Invasive thoughts of him walking in had begun running wild in her mind. His dark eyes, his hungry lips... She submerged her whole head in the water when images of his hand disappearing in bubbles came into play. She didn't even have bubbles in the bath and here she was fantasizing about him touching her beneath them.

She held her breath and clenched her eyes tightly under the water, not caring that her lungs had begun to burn. She didn't want to think about Neville on top of her. She wanted to think clearly. Rational. And being intoxicated by her hormones was not going to help her. She had sworn that she was going to be sure. Not a single strain of doubt. She had to be sure.

He broke the bottle. She understood it and a small part of her admired that Neville was such a righteous man, but another part of her screamed she couldn't be with him. Not after that. This war had placed a canyon between them, a canyon that was too dangerous to cross. And that was without mentioning Draco. Draco who she loved more than anything in this world hated Neville. He had been practically screaming for the Gryffindor's blood after the party. He had been so angry he was punching a stone wall until his knuckles were crimson with his own blood. He wanted to kill Neville. He meant to kill Neville, the only reason Neville was still breathing was because she begged Draco not to harm him.

She bolted up from the water and gasped for precious air, coughing and sputtering as the heavy scent of oil made the air near her too heavy. Neville knocked on the door to check on her and she quickly turned him away too embarrassed for words.

Her feelings were long past those of just innocent friendship and she knew it. She could never think of him as just her friend. She realized it in the classroom with Draco.

_If you kill him I'll never be able to look at you the same._

Her harsh words had silenced Draco's blood thirst, but it had also made her realize how far out of hand everything had gotten. She had quickly covered for herself saying that killing because he had to was one thing, but out of anger was another. She had played the doe-eyed girl well. She had cried and said it would be the final loss of his innocence and Draco had bought it.

She hurt her brother. She hurt him tonight and she hurt him for Neville. She should have been a better sister. Draco probably wasn't even going to kill Neville, he was just letting off steam. He had threatened to kill Potter countless times and still the boy lived. There was no reasons for her words all they did was cut. Draco had left her looking as though he were about to cry. She had truly wounded him.

Unable to bear the thought of Draco she finished washing. It was as she was wrapping the soft towel around her though that she realized she didn't have any dry clothes. She couldn't wear her dress, for one it was still damp and two she had no desire to sleep in it for the night. Her underwear was fine, thank the gods, but she really did need something to put over her body. Awkwardly she knocked on the bathroom door. There was a ringing silence as she waited for a response, but after a moment or two she heard Neville just outside the wood.

"Uh, yes?"

Graces blushed realizing how odd it was for her to knock and not just call out, but quickly got over it when she realized how much more awkward it would be for both her and Neville if she went out in a towel.

"I have no dry clothes," she said quietly, closing her eyes and willing herself to disappear. "Do you—"

"I'll put my shirt on the door. I was planning on just wearing an undershirt to bed anyways. When you finish dressing let me know."

Graces waited until she heard the sounds of the bedroom door shutting before opening the bathroom door and buttoning Neville's shirt up to cover her. It covered everything important. Her legs were completely exposed, but nothing else was. She shivered as a cold draft swept the room and moved over to the fireplace that Neville must have prepared while she was bathing. She still was thinking about everything that had occurred when a tentative voiced called to her from outside.

"Oh, sorry," Graces apologized, feeling very badly for making Neville wait so long. "Come in."

Neville opened the door and took maybe two steps in before he froze. She watched his eyes drop to her bare legs and a thirsty look passed over his face before he shook it away and and moved to the bed.

"You should get some sleep," he began, the back of his neck a fierce red from their encounter. "I'm going to be just in the next room, so don't hesitate to call me."

Graces nodded and slipped between the sheets staring up at Neville's diverted eyes. He fiddled with the sheets around her, tucking her in as though she were a child needing to be taken care of, but she didn't mind. If anything she prayed he would continue, she felt better with him so near. She fought the urge to wrap her arms around him and tell him about what she said to Draco and ask him if he thought they could make it work.

"So... oil instead of perfume," Graces thought aloud, reaching for about anything to say.

"You're too sensitive to perfume," Neville pointed out looking up at her and smiling. "Besides I very much like how you smell. I don't want any artificial smell covering you up. Bath oil is perfect for you."

"But then don't I smell like the bath oil?"

"No," Neville breathed, a small laugh escaping his lips. "No, not at all. I-I asked them to make that bath oil because that's how you smell to me. Like white cotton, lilies, lavender and-and then there is something just so uniquely you. So you see it's made to smell like you, so there is no issue of it masking you."

"I must smell very good," Graces said sheepishly.

"Intoxicating," Neville whispered, more to himself than her. Neville flushed when he realized he had thought out loud and cleared his throat to regain himself.

"Well, I better leave you to sleep," Neville murmured, removing his hands that were placed on both sides of her and sitting up. "Good night."

"Good night," Graces whispered hollowly, laying down as Neville shut the door behind him. She didn't know what she expected. She had hurt him all week, it wasn't surprising that he was so guarded around her now, not after all that had happened. She was in the middle of scolding herself further when Neville bolted through the door, strode up to the bed, kissed her soundly, bid her a good night (again) and disappeared back to the living room.

It was so fast she would have believed it didn't happen if it weren't for her swollen lips and the door now being open a crack. She smiled to herself as she rolled over and nestled into the sheets. Breathing in Neville's musty scent that clung all around her caused her to become pleasantly drowsy. Her last thought as she slipped into sleep was of how warm Neville's arms were when he carried her to the room.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Neville woke to a soft voice whispering his name. He rolled over thinking it a dream, but at the third "Neville" he turned around and saw Graces was seated beside him on the couch. He jolted up from where he was laying and looked around and the dark room trying to remember where he was.

"Shit," Neville cursed, pressing his hands into his face and groaning lowly in frustration. "I really thought it would work." He let out one more sound of frustration before removing his hands and turning towards Graces. "We'll figure something out, I promise, Graces. We'll figure something out."

"Oh, no," Graces pinked, wrapping her arms around herself awkwardly. "I, uh, I didn't have bad dreams. It worked."

"It worked," Neville repeated. Graces bit her lip and nodded. "Then-then why are you awake? Why aren't you in bed?"

Neville watched as Graces swallowed some sort of emotion building inside of her and he sat up straighter his skin prickling with anticipation. Graces took a deep breath before her silver eyes looked up at him and she gathered up some essence of courage.

"Neville, I—"

"You're saying my name," Neville realized, frowning at the blonde in confusion and waiting for an answer.

"Yes, I am," Graces affirmed slowly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ears.

"Why?"

Neville watched as the simple word seemed to make Graces more nervous and she bit her lip again and looked down at her feet before taking in another deep breath.

"This couch can't be comfy," she went on, pretending he had not asked any question.

"It's fine."

"Right, but it's not as comfy as a bed is it?" Graces asked, looking over at him again nervously. "I mean a bed would be better."

"It would," Neville nodded slowly. "But it's fine."

"Well, umm," Graces took another deep breath and looked over at him with a determined look. "Well, if you would like you could come to bed with me." Neville couldn't even breathe let alone answer Graces question. He stared up at her as though he was terrified and tried to decipher if this was a dream.

"Neville," Graces whispered, moving closer to his chest and gaining his attention as she leaned in and gently brought her lips to his, leaving little doubt as to what was happening. "I would like it very much if you came to bed with me."


	62. Chapter 62

The longer Neville sat there in silence the more Graces felt frightened. He didn't seem shocked like she had thought he would be. He seemed more contemplative, as though he were thinking and trying to decipher her thoughts and actions. She imagined at this point she was a very difficult riddle to the boy in front of her and did her best to look open, but her best was surely falling short because of her nerves. Neville silently stood from the couch and wordlessly waited for her to lead him to the bedroom. Graces let out a small nervous laugh, before standing with him and slowly shuffling to the room.

Her mouth had gone dry and her heart felt as though it had dropped to her knees. She knew this was what she wanted, but she couldn't believe she was actually doing this. This was going to change everything and-and Neville was about to _see_ everything. She moved her hands closer to her stomach as she twisted them nervously. What would he think?

_I can't think of that now._

She stopped in the doorway to the room and stared at the bed. It was so odd to think that once Neville entered with her they would leave it so very different. She wondered if she was ready for this. It was one thing to decide you want something, but to be ready...

"I don't have to be here," Neville reminded, his brown eyes reading her hesitation. There was no disappointment or anticipation to Neville's face. Actually, it looked as if there was no emotion at all. He just stood slightly behind her watching her as though she were a creature to be studied.

"It's not about need," Graces informed softly. "It's want. I want you here."

This seemed to send a spark of emotion through the Gryffindor, but as soon as it had shown it was gone. Graces moved to the bed first and only paused for a moment to decide if she wanted to be in the covers or out. She decided in. Neville followed her decision and soon they were nestled in the warm bed sitting and both feeling exceptionally awkward. Graces knew Neville was not going to make the first move, not after the week that they had just had, so she moved closer to him and took a deep breath as the proximity made the hairs on her skin stick up.

Her leg was now touching his and he stared down at the blankets curiously before turning to her. He was like a man waiting for instructions. Either she would begin this, or he was going to leave. The unspoken knowledge of that made her sick with nerves. She had just finally mustered up enough bravery to move to kiss him when Neville spoke.

"What's going on?"

Graces dropped her hands which she was about to use to pull Neville closer and instead buried them in the sheets nervously.

"Well," she began slowly, now feeling like she really would be sick. "I—well, what do you think is going on?"

"I have no idea," Neville spilled out honestly. "I have absolutely no clue as to what is going on." Graces looked down at Neville's words, he didn't seem mad, but there was a definite edge to his voice.

"Neville, I—"

"And that's another thing. You're saying my name. You realize that don't you?" Neville asked, clearly not believing she was doing this on purpose. "You said _my name_. My _given name_. Neville. You said Neville. You said it at the party and you said it here, you said my name. I don't know if that was a slip of the tongue on your part or—"

"I knew I was saying it," Graces interjected gently.

"You knew you were saying my name?" Neville asked, staring her hard in the eyes. "You knew. And you still believe all that stuff about given names?"

"Yes," Graces reaffirmed, doing her best not to look away.

"I don't understand," Neville blew out, leaning back against the headboard of the bed and rubbing the bridge of his nose as though a headache was coming on. First you want space and do everything in your power to avoid me. Then you show up for me to the party with Blaise but for me apparently, and then you go saying my name and inviting me into your bed." Graces remained silent, seeing as how Neville seemed to be talking to himself more than to her. Neville took a deep breath and dropped his hand, so he could look over at Graces. "Why are you saying my name and inviting me into your bed?"

Graces looked down and tried to swallow some of the fear that was taking hold of her. Now she felt as though she really were going to be sick. Saying all of this was much more terrifying, especially now. What if Neville didn't feel the same.

"Well," Graces started deciding to take this step by step. "I started saying your name because it's your name," she said lamely, her whole body beginning to tremble. "And I'm done lying to myself about who you are and—" Graces wiped away the tears that were spilling out of her eyes. "And what you mean to me," she croaked. "You're Neville. In-in my heart you're Neville and and you're not just this boy that gets me through the day or-or my friend. We're not friends. We-we are more," Graces stated more firmly looking up into Neville's eyes. She wanted to reach for his hand, but was to scared. "I think we've been more for a long time. At least I-I want us to be more. I feel like we are more. You're more to me." Neville still wasn't saying anything, but he seemed to have gone into a state of shock.

"You want us to be more?" Neville asked cautiously, as though he suspected she was playing a malicious joke. "You want us to be together. Like really together?"

"We still couldn't tell anyone," Graces nodded. "But yes, I want us to be togeth—"

Graces didn't get the opportunity to finish her statement before Neville collided into her and dipped her down to the pillow kissing her heatedly on the mouth. Nor did she care that she didn't get to finish. She pulled him down so that he was more on top of her, blanketing her with his body as she kissed him with the same want and need. She had missed him so much. She gasped as she felt his hands taking her in, going beneath the shirt so that he could feel her skin against his palms.

She was now entangled between the sheets, his shirt she was wearing and his arms. Neville seemed to have no desire to slow down, his lips had moved to to the base of her throat and she could feel his blood boiling with desire through his skin. She knew it was only a matter of time before he would be tearing away the cloth around her and taking his own clothes off and she knew she needed him to stop now, before she wouldn't be able to stop herself. She didn't want it to be this. Passion was great, but she wanted something... more. Something special.

"Wait, wait," she gasped, pulling the shirt down so she was covered and pressing a hand against his chest. "Slowly," she requested, her chest still rising from what had just occurred. "Slowly."

"Slowly," Neville panted, glancing away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "Slowly because you're not ready? Or..." Neville let his words trail off and looked down at her hopefully.

"Would 'or' be okay?" she asked timidly looking down, hoping Neville and her were on the same page as to what 'or' was.

She felt Neville's warm hand come to her face and pull her to look up into deep brown eyes. The first kiss was permission. That was the only way to describe it. Neville brushed his lips against hers and hovered near them waiting for her return. They kissed like that a few times before he slowly began to deepen the kisses, breathing in deeply as though he were taking in her scent. By the time he pulled away and began exploring the sensitive skin below her ear Graces' breathing had become erratic.

" _Or,"_ Neville began from deep in his throat, "is more than fine with me."

Graces felt herself relax at Neville's words and soon they were both entangled in one another so much so that the outside world seemed to disappear. All she knew about the world was Neville's arms, his lips and the way his skin tasted. Nothing else mattered. It all just faded away. She explored him like she never had before. She wondered if he thought it odd how often she let her fingers trace along his face, as though she were trying to memorize every inch. He didn't seem to though he just pulled her close and watched her as her eyes took everything in before chuckling and kissing her tenderly.

Her hands began to move to other places as the kissing ignited a fire through her veins and she reveled in the way Neville's breath hitched as she moved to touch him below where his belt would be. Not needing anymore prompts Neville undressed, causing her to become even more feverish and hungry with need. She wondered for only a moment if she should do the same before she was once again gathered in his arms and being kissed. Neville seemed to be in no great hurry for her to undress, and Graces was relieved considering how unready she was for that part.

He was harder in his chest than before and even his legs seemed to have more bulk to them. In the back of her mind she remembered that he had hurt his ankle playing some sort of sports game with his friends and decided that must be the explanation. Neville's skin was hot to the touch and the more they continued to kiss the less soft they both became.

Neville eventually decided that her clothing had to go and rolled on top of her during a kiss and slowly started to kiss down. Graces tried to quiet her fears as he slowly began to unbutton her top. She stared up at the ceiling, knowing she didn't want to see Neville's face when he saw her abdomen. She knew it wouldn't deter him from her, no she just didn't want to see. He had just undone the button that would allow him access to her breasts and she did her best not to shake as he softly planted open mouthed kisses on her humble mounds, teasing her rising nipples with his lips and tongue. She wished that he would just get it over with. Move on and open the next button that would reveal the beginning of her scars.

She was starting to lose her nerve. Thoughts of asking him to let the shirt stay kept floating through her mind. He would allow it if she asked, she knew he would, but she didn't. She wanted them to be as open and honest as possible and he deserved to know. Neville kissed her right above the button as he undid it and she felt him pause and move away. She took a shaky breath and looked down at him hovering over her torso, unbuttoning the rest of the shirt slowly and taking in the display.

It was a small relief to not see disgust on his face, like she had seen on Draco's and Snape's, but his silence began to bore into her. Hesitantly he reached out and traced the scars that were the testimony of how a muggle saved her life. Red, angry and raised, they spoke volumes. She would have never believed that these scars were not from torture had she not known the situation.

"If they bother you I can just button up the shirt," Graces rasped, more ashamed than ever. "I know they're—"

"They don't bother me," Neville promised, leaning down and kissing her torso. "Not one bit."

Graces made some sound of protest and was about to tell Neville that there was no need to lie, but before she could continue he pressed her hand against him, making her fall silent. He was hard as iron and she could feel the tension welling up in him.

"Like I said," he whispered huskily. "It doesn't bother me one bit."

And once again she was reminded of why she wanted to be with Neville. She couldn't imagine that there was another man in the world that could be like him. She leaned up and kissed him longingly, hoping that he knew exactly how she felt in that kiss. Neville returned her affections and she lifted her hips up as he slid her underwear off.

"You know this means something to me, right?" she asked, stopping him from continuing. "You know that right? This-this means something to me. It's not like before," she pleaded, looking up at his eyes. "It's not just sex for me. After this it's going to be different between us. You're going to have the ability to hurt me. I mean really destroy me from the inside out," Graces stressed, becoming increasingly frightened. "I'm scared, Neville. Really scared. If you don't—" Graces took a breath and swallowed some of the fear building inside her "—want something with me or are unsure then we shouldn't do this. I know we're kids and-and that this shouldn't be such a big deal, but I couldn't bear it if—"

"Graces," Neville interrupted, placing her hand on his chest so she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Graces hadn't noticed the trembling that was taking over his chest until that moment and stared up at him in anticipating. "I'm scared too," Neville admitted, leaning down so that he was closer to her. "And it's never been just sex for me. Never. You've meant something to me for a very long time and you've had the ability to destroy me since the day you dangled from your broom during that Quidditch game."

Neville kissed her softly and moved to lay beside her so he could pull her close and hold her. "I've wanted this for a very long time, Graces. A very long time. I'm not going to hurt you. I will never hurt you."

"You can't promise me that." Graces hiccuped. "We're young and stupid."

Neville laughed vibrantly at the truth of that statement and Graces felt a bit better feeling the vibrations of his laugh against her chest.

"We are, but I know that I won't ever purposely hurt you. You make me so happy, Graces. I'm not going to hurt my source of happiness. We'll fight and I'm sure you will hex me a few times, because as you said I'm young and stupid, but I think we are worth that risk."

Graces laughed out a sob and buried her face in Neville's warm skin. Taking deep breath after deep breath to calm herself down.

"I don't know how this happened," she breathed, thinking of the months that passed. "How did this happen, you and me?"

"I don't know," Neville said giving her a small half smile. "But are you happy it did?"

"Yes."

"Then I suppose it doesn't matter."

"I'm so scared."

"Me too," Neville murmured, playing with her hair against her bare back. "We don't have to right now. We can wait or we can just fool around tonight, we have time. There's no need to rush."

"No, I-I want this," Graces breathed, placing her hand on his face and kissing him. "I want this with you," she added, thinking of the night in the greenhouse and smiling. "I'm ready now."

Neville seemed to be drawn back into the memories of that night as well, he smiled quietly and kissed her again as she allowed his hands to roam her body. He seemed to not be able to decide what he wanted to touch more and Graces found her skin raising as he explored it all. She could tell he wanted more, but he seemed to want to take his time in getting there. By the time he had positioned himself back on top of her they were both winded and glistening with sweat from the fever threatening to consume them.

She let out a small gasp as he entered her and Neville stopped and groaned from somewhere deep in his throat. "I forgot how good you felt," he murmured, kissing her right under the ear and lingering there so she could hear his heavy breath. She held him close to her as he began gently move inside her. Even connected she didn't feel close enough to him she wanted him to hold her as tight as she was holding him and she also didn't want to suffocate from the full force of his weight on her should he grant her that wish.

Neville seemed to want the same thing too and soon he had repositioned them so she was on top with her legs wrapped around him as he held her close and thrusted up into her. She moved with him groaning his name, his given name, over and over and wrapping her hands in his damp hair as he kissed any part of her his lips could find. It didn't matter how deep she moved him in her, he found a way to move deeper and a few times she had to push him back, so he didn't hurt her. He seemed a bit proud of this, but did as she requested. She didn't know what she enjoyed more: his hands on her body, or entangled in her hair and brushing against her face.

She had been right to be afraid of this. Making love was much different than what they had done before. This was completely about them, how they felt for one another, showing a sort of devotion and promise, while sleeping with someone was more about lust and desire. She didn't believe she loved Neville, not by her definition. She wouldn't sacrifice everything for him, but if she was falling for him the possibility of reaching that point was there. She had no idea if they would reach it, but she could see it like looking over at a mountainside and awaiting a sunrise. She could very well grow to love him.

She felt herself tensing around him from the thought and moaned as he responded to her body's needs, pushing himself more into her, so that she became increasingly flushed and lightheaded. She dragged her fingers down his back and bit her lip as her senses overloaded from his thrusts. If Neville minded the new scratches he didn't show it. He was relentless in his movements, ardent with his lips and firm with his hands. She cried out as her body finally gave in and Neville was quick to roll her over onto the bed where he fervently met each wave of her euphoria with his own fury.

Graces laid panting on the bed, one hand over her heart so she could feel it's fast paced beat while Neville pushed away to the side trembling himself. She moved in closer to him, placing her head in the crook of his arm. She wasn't there long before Neville pulled her closer to his chest and held her, his breath still irregular from their exertions. They both seemed to be pleasantly drowsy, but neither of them were willing to sleep. Despite the soft, warm bed around them they just laid there holding one another.

"You're being really rude," Graces breathed after a while, nuzzling her nose to his chest and breathing in his musky aroma.

"Rude?" Neville asked startled.

"Yes, rude," Graces confirmed. There was a long silence before Neville asked how he was being rude. "You haven't thanked me," Graces grinned, fully expecting it when Neville pinned her to the bed and began tickling her mercilessly.

"When will you ever let me live that down?" he asked, his fingers still causing her to giggle loudly.

"When it stops being funny!" Graces howled, refusing to give up on the hilarity of it all.

"I-didn't-know-what-to-say!" Neville stomped out finding a new place to tease her skin with each word.

"Not my fault you chose to say something stupid!"

"You're a wicked witch, Malfoy," Neville teased, finally releasing her and laying back down beside her and propping himself up on his elbow so he could look down at her.

Graces felt a bit caught off guard with how much she wanted to kiss Neville in that moment. He stared down at her in that way that used to make her feel uncomfortable and she just felt an odd sort of peace come to her. She moved closer to his body heat and idly played with the hair on his chest, wondering about the situation she was in now with him, but not fearing it.

"Are you still lonely?" Graces asked, remembering what Neville said so long ago.

"No," Neville smiled, cupping her face and caressing her lips with his. "No, not at all."

"Good."

She laid there a little longer before going to the loo and cleaning herself up a bit. It was really surreal, she wondered if this was going to become a regular thing. She hoped so, it would be a dream come true to be able to see Neville every night again. She splashed some water on her face and used one of the cloths by the sink to wipe away any lingering sweat before going back to the bedroom.

She folded back into Neville's arms like they had done this a million times. He still was propped up on his arm looking down at her, satisfied with taking in every feature of her skin and every strand of her long hair. He glanced down at her abdomen for a moment and the old feelings of insecurities began to come upon her.

"Do the scars really not bother you?" Neville raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise, as though he couldn't even phantom a reason for her question before a smile tugged his lips and he simply replied no.

He was everything she never knew she wanted and in that moment she could have cried from the pure joy of it all, but instead she leaned up and kissed him gently, sighing happily as he deepened the action and moved to be on top of her once again.


	63. Chapter 63

Neville had never in his life been a morning person. Sure, he woke up early in the mornings to tend to his plants on occasion, but usually the first part of the morning spent was willing himself to get up and start his day. And while his body would awaken, his mind refused until the second cup of tea. But on this morning he was wide awake staring down at the sleeping body against him.

There was a halo of moon beamed hair spread out on his chest with a soft cheek taking rest. He smiled contentedly and wrapped his arms more firmly around her, grinning as she nestled closer to him and further pushed him towards the edge of the bed. He tried to be still and not fidget so he could watch her sleep longer. It was all still so surreal: everything about last night and everything about this morning. He trailed his fingers lightly up and down her back more just so he could feel her skin and know she was truly there.

She was definitely there. She was there fast asleep and she was his. He never believed that she would want this with him, a real relationship. He didn't care that they still couldn't tell anyone. It didn't make it any less real or meaningful. She was his. He wondered what that all was going to entail. He had never had a real girlfriend. He had never been someone's real boyfriend. He began making a list of all the things he wanted to do with her and then stopped, realizing that half she would laugh at and call him a sap for, and the others she wouldn't allow because people could find out.

Neville's thoughts went silent as Graces' slow breathing paused. He could tell Graces was now awake. Despite the fact he had never once slept with her in this manner and wasn't able to see her face, he knew the blonde was awake. He knew because she was perfectly still and that was something he had recently found out was not typical of Graces when she slept. He didn't say anything, though. He just let his finger continue to trace her bare back and waited for her to show obvious signs that she was now fully conscious. He imagined she would need some time to adjust to everything that had happened, being Graces and all.

Sure enough he was right. Her muscles tightened and he could feel her eyes opening as she continued to lay as still as possible. Neville remained patient though and after a few minutes she shyly turned her head and was looking over at him.

"You snore," she said quietly, pulling the covers closer to her chest.

"And you hog the bed."

Graces smirked at his retort and Neville was relieved that she seemed happy to stay where she was and not move away from him. He could tell she was uncomfortable, the way she fidgeted in the sheets and kept glancing away told him as much.

"Everything still okay?" he asked, eyeing her seriously.

"Yeah," Graces whispered. "Everything's still okay. Better than okay," she added, offering him a small smile. Graces seemed to find no reason for her to say more and just continued to laze about, her head resting on him as her fingers played against his chest. "You've been working out."

"A little," Neville commented shyly.

"I hadn't realized how different you looked. You're always so layered," she added quietly, more to herself than Neville.

"It has been a while," Neville smiled ruefully.

"Yes, I suppose it has," Graces breathed, biting her lip and trying to remember when the last time they had been together was. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. This was worth the wait."

Graces nodded awkwardly before excusing herself to the loo. Neville was starting to wonder if maybe she was having second thoughts. She didn't seem as blissfully happy as he was about all this. If anything she seemed sad, maybe even regretful. She had said everything was okay, but her demeanor didn't relay that. He stood up from the bed and put his trousers on before going over to the bathroom door. He could hear the water running from the sink and knocked gently before opening.

It was clear Graces was very far from okay. She looked as though she was on the brink of having a panic attack. She was hovering over the sink wearing his shirt and splashing cool water on her face and neck, and when she looked up at him it was clear she had been crying. Neville held in his initial reaction and quietly got a wash cloth for her face. The blonde nodded her thanks and then slowly started to come unraveled. Neville just stood still unsure of what he could possibly say. He had believed her when she said she was sure and now here she was crying. They were together, weren't they? Sure, it was just words, but they had both agreed that they were together, so for him to say that they didn't have to be together was more of a break up. He didn't want them to break up, he wasn't sure if they could recover from that.

"You're leaving in two hours," Graces hiccupped. "I-I didn't think of all that till this morning. I mean... we just and now you're leaving."

"What?" Neville frowned, looking up from his shoes as Graces continued to weep.

"Not to mention things between Draco and I are just all messed up," Graces continued. "I did not expect this to be a wonderful holiday or anything, but not having you here is just going to make it so much worse. We're finally together and you're leaving."

"You're upset because I'm leaving," Neville clarified, gesturing from one point to the other as though making a diagram of the reasoning. "That's what this is about, me leaving." Graces nodded pitifully, and Neville couldn't even stop himself from laughing. "You're upset because you're going to miss me."

"Glad you find this so funny," Graces huffed, throwing the washcloth in his face and storming out of the small bathroom.

"Graces, I'm sorry," Neville pleaded, still unable to stop grinning.

"Yeah, you look sorry."

"I am," Neville promised, reaching out and taking Graces' hand over the bed. "Come here."

"No."

"Stop being mad at me and come here," Neville laughed, causing the blonde to try and move away. Neville snorted out a laugh and yanked her to him causing her to flop on the bed where he quickly moved an arm over her, blocking her from escape. Neville weathered a few good hits as Graces tried to get up, but he didn't relent, he kept her pinned and did his best not to laugh anymore. "Graces, come on listen to me, stop being all indignant."

"You're being offensive. I'm allowed to be indignant."

"I didn't mean to be," Neville pointed out, ducking as a smack almost landed on his ear. "Honest, I wasn't. I was just so relieved."

"Relieved," Graces deadpanned skeptically. "How does my crying give you relief?"

"Well, you were crying cause you were going to miss me," Neville murmured. "Not because you thought last night, being with me, was a mistake. When I saw you over the sink I thought maybe..." Neville let his words trail off and just shrugged. "I'm very happy you don't seem to feel that way."

"You thought I changed my mind?"

"I did," Neville nodded. "It wouldn't exactly be the first time." Graces blushed, but didn't argue his point. "So as you can imagine it was a bit comical for me to find that you're upset because you're going to miss me, something I am extremely happy about," Neville whispered, moving closer to her and gently kissing the base of her throat. "Something that's actually normal in a relationship."

Graces felt herself relax under Neville's soft kisses and warm caress. She was scared, scared for a million different reasons, but Neville seemed to have a spell for making her calm. She never dreamed she would have something like this, that anyone other than Draco could make her forget her trepidations, but Neville could and he did. She kissed him back with the same kind of affection he had kissed her with and wondered if he had an idea as to how much she had given him and how scared she was that she had given him so much right before he left her for weeks.

She held onto his promise that he would never hurt her and pulled him closer to her as she felt his strong hands moving under the shirt to her bare skin. Neville had a skill for making love. He moved slowly and affectionately, his lips always seemed to find something new to caress and he was filled with so much wonder at each tiny portion of her that she felt as though she were being discovered. His fingers moved through her hair and his teeth nibbled at the base of her collar as he whispered her name again and again like a man in wonder of a god. And when he entered her the whole world became still.

She closed her eyes and stopped trying to match his adorations. She just held him close and whispered his name between kisses and her soft moans and gasps. It didn't matter that he was leaving. She saw as well as felt that now. Neville was hers and she was his and the space between them meant nothing because in many ways he was going to be here with her. Maybe that's what her mother had meant when she said that being with someone like this means giving them a piece of you that you have no hope of gaining back.

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Neville knew he had to get up from the bed. If he didn't leave this room in ten minutes then he would miss the train completely. Still he couldn't find the motivation. Graces' body fit perfectly with his as they laid together in the aftermath of their morning. He was sure she had been close to falling back into sleep, but he kept her from it with soft kisses on the back of her neck and tight squeezes that pulled her closer to him.

"I know you have to go," Graces murmured quietly, turning around so that she was facing him on the bed. "It's okay," she promised, offering him a sad smile. "I'll be fine. Don't feel bad."

Neville let out a breath and tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ears.

"I don't want to go," he swore, thinking of how happy he would be to spend his whole Christmas just lazing in bed with Graces. "I just... it's just me, gran and my great uncle Algie now, and if I didn't—"

Neville's explanations were silenced by Graces' soft lips. He let the words die on his tongue and chose to kiss her more firmly, his blood beginning to boil from the contact. When Graces pulled away he had half a mind to miss the train all together, but she pushed him farther from her on the bed.

"You have to go," she maintained. "You should enjoy being with your family. Merlin knows I wish I could be with all of mine," she added sadly. "You need to go."

Neville knew she was right and kissed her apologetically before he got up from the bed and started getting dressed. He decided to take a quick shower, not wanting to greet his gran off the train smelling like perfume and sex. Graces stayed in bed. When he emerged from the shower he could feel her eyes watching him as he scrambled around the room for clothes. He knew he had put his clothes for the train somewhere, he just couldn't remember what drawer he placed them in.

_Merlin, I hope I didn't forget._

It was just as Graces moved out of the bed that he found the drawer.

"No-no-no," he grinned, picking her up from the floor and placing her back in the bed. "You stay right here," he ordered huskily. "I want to leave with the image of you in my shirt all tousled in the bed."

Graces giggled at his proclamation and Neville found himself quickly forgetting he needed to go. He moved up on the bed with her and discarded the towel that had been wrapped around his hips.

"You are not being wise," Graces murmured against his lips.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"You'll miss the train," the blonde insisted, pushing him away.

Neville groaned at the truth and moved off the bed so he could go back to getting dressed.

"I don't think you saw last night, but that book case is part of your gift as well," he informed tying his tie for the second time.

"You got me all those books?"

"Yeah." Neville looked up and watched as Graces read the titles on the spine. "They're used," he admitted. "But they're all supposedly great muggle books. I ordered them from this tiny used book shop. I didn't think you would mind that they were used." Only then did it occur to Neville that Graces probably had never once been given something that was used. He pinked a little at the realization and for the first time felt a bit odd about how different their financial situations were.

"You're spoiling me," Graces grinned, moving to the edge of the bed and leaning over to grab one of the smaller books.

"You're already spoiled," Neville teased, feeling better as he saw her excitedly turn a page.

"This is way too much," Graces insisted. "The perfume, the sheets, the room and now the books. It's far too much. I just got you one gift and it's just a boring book."

"I highly doubt it's a boring book."

"No, it really is," Graces insisted with a groan. "It's a book with spells to set a certain climate for specific plants."

"That is not dull at all," Neville exclaimed, his mind already thinking about the types of plants he could grow. "That's actually a very perfect gift for me."

"It's not nearly as thoughtful as all this."

"You gifted me a whole hospital ward," Neville snorted.

"I really hate that you know about that," Graces sighed, shutting the book. "You were never supposed to know about that."

"I'm very glad I do know about it though," Neville smiled, taking a seat next to the blonde and wishing he didn't have to go.

"Will you write to me?" Graces asked pitifully, clutching the book to her chest and waiting for his reply.

"Every chance I get," Neville swore, wrapping his arms around her tiny frame. "I plan on writing you even when I have nothing to say."

"I'm sure you'll have plenty to say," Graces smirked, leaning her head against his chest and taking a deep breath to calm herself. "It's so silly. I've gone weeks without talking to you, but I-I don't know—I still saw you in the halls, in class, at meals. It's an odd comfort to me now."

"Comfort," Neville scoffed. "You don't have to lie to me, Miss Malfoy. I know you just like seeing my handsome face." Graces giggled at Neville's proclamation and Neville could feel his chest warm at the sound. "And my bod. You're going to miss looking at my incredibly sexy, built, strong physique." The giggles had now turned into full out laughter and Neville didn't waste any time in kissing the blonde into silence. He was determined to kiss a happy, joyful Graces before he left and he grinned as a few more giggles blew against his lips as he pulled away.

"I have to go now," he whispered sorrowfully.

"I know."

"Have a happy Christmas, Graces."

"Merry Yule," Graces smiled.

Neville raised a brow to Graces' words before asking if she danced naked for that as well.

"Don't be daft," Graces scoffed, kissing him soundly one last time. "I celebrate the same way Christmas is celebrated. You realize that all of the Christmas traditions are ours, don't you? The tree, the holly, mistletoe," Graces smirked leaning up and kissing him. "All ours. Christmas is basically Yule."

"I suppose you're right," Neville chuckled. "Still, most say Christmas now anyways."

"I know... It's very intertwined with our culture," an obvious note of distaste in her words. "I mean their Christ wasn't even born in December. It was in August, but they moved the celebrations to December to turn people from paganism. I think it's worked. You clearly don't hold to the old ways."

"I wouldn't say I hold to much of anything. I like all though, I suppose."

Graces brows creased for a moment pensively.

"You like all," she repeated. "You like their religion?"

"It has some very nice qualities," Neville pointed out, not at all frightened to say what he thought.

"You shall not permit a sorceress to live. Exodus 22:18. That's me Neville. They would kill me. Would you let someone stone me? Or burn me into ash?"

"Graces," Neville whispered taking a seat next to her.

"Shall not permit, Neville. Shall not permit. Meaning their God commands them to kill us. They think—"

"That was a very long time ago, Graces," Neville shushed, holding her face in his palms. "Very, very long ago. It's not like that. Come here, you're getting all upset over nothing."

"It's our history," Graces murmured quietly, laying her head against his chest.

"And they—I have heard—are very ashamed of it."

"Because they don't think we are real."

"Because they know they took innocent lives," Neville corrected. He knew Graces didn't believe him, but he was glad she didn't argue. "Dr. Harris didn't want to kill you," he reminded. "He could have let you die."

"Maybe he isn't a Christian."

"That white coat he wore said St. John," Neville informed gently. "That's religious. Saint is religious. Things have changed, Graces. He didn't care that you were a witch. He just thought of you as a person, as a girl that needed help."

"I'm not saying I believe in anything, because honestly I don't think there is really much to believe in other than belief itself and holding yourself to your own moral standards, but I think it's important to find beauty in all beliefs."

"Everyone has a dark past in their history. We certainly have our share to be ashamed of. There are spells that we won't even mention because they are so...horrid, but we have come a long way and have done our best to put any malicious practices away and so have they," Neville ended gently. He could tell Graces was taking in what he said and he wondered how far away from her original beliefs she was. He always knew it wouldn't change over night and he saw this as one of the things she held on to, but he had hope that there would be a day where she didn't see things the way her father did.

"I need to go," he whispered, placing his head on hers. "I'm so sorry. I hope we can talk about this more when I get back. I think it would be a good discussion, but I really have to go."

"I know you do," Graces sighed. "Don't forget to write."

"I'm already dictating my first letter," Neville grinned, standing up and grabbing his coat. "Do me a favor though and use a school owl. I really don't think I can handle weeks of seeing Loki."

Neville dodged a pillow before bidding his final goodbyes and walking out the door. He stood outside the room for a few moments, the realization that he wouldn't be seeing Graces for a while truly sinking in. The urge to go back in with her was almost unbearable. He wanted to be with her, especially now, but he walked away. He was all his gran had really and he was sure she was lonely. Missing holidays with her just wasn't an option.

An hour later he leaned against the window of the train thinking of blonde hair spread around a soft pillow. If he closed his eyes he could faintly smell her around him and hear her soft slow breaths as she slept. He smiled quietly to himself as he thought about it all. Of all the things he could be replaying over and over in his mind from last night he thought about her sleeping.

"Hey, Ginny, have you seen Colin anywhere?" Neville asked an idea coming to his head.

"Yeah, I saw him and Dennis in the 5th compartment."

"Thanks."

"Where are you going?" Ginny frowned, halting in her attempts to feed her pygmy puff some Bertie Bott's beans.

"Just wanted to tell him Happy Christmas. Hey, if you open my bag you'll find your bottle of perfume," Neville grinned, before ducking out to find Colin. Sure enough he found the Creevy boys just where Ginny had told him, sitting in the 5th compartment and playing a game of exploding snaps with a few other younger years.

"Neville! Hi!" Colin greeted, getting up and opening the door. "Do you want to join? We can start a new game."

"Oh, no-no, thanks, but I-uh- I was hoping I could have a word with you actually."

"Me?" Colin laughed, as though the idea that Neville would need a word with him was absurd. "Yeah, okay." Colin stepped out of the cart and shut the door behind him.

"Do you remember when you asked me to take you to the greenhouses so you could take all those pictures of plants to show your parents?"

"Yeah, thanks again for doing that. I know I wasn't supposed to be in those last two greenhouses, but I'm really excited with the pictures I got."

"Yeah, well umm I was wondering if maybe you caught a few pictures of me displaying the plants where I look, well... dashing?"

"Dashing..."

"Yeah, dashing," Neville repeated awkwardly. "It's for my gran... she likes to put up pictures on the mantle and show her friends all these pictures of me and well, I thought it would be nice to have a, uh, good one for once."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure I have one."

"Yeah? Grand. I'll just give you my address and you can owl me it when you-"

"Oh, I have the pictures in my satchel," Colin interrupted, pointing over to the cart. "I didn't pack them away so I could show my mum on the drive home."

Neville spent the next few minutes shuffling through the countless photos that Colin had taken that day and other days. Neville was so used to seeing the younger boy with a camera that he didn't even notice half of the pictures he had taken of him in the pile. There were loads more than just the greenhouse. In the end he found two he liked, and Colin was generous enough to insist he take both, telling him he could easily make other copies.

By the time Neville got back to his cart he had already wrote Graces a letter, all he needed to do now was put it on paper and get home to owl it.

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"You really don't have to stay here for winter break, Thomas," Graces stressed, placing Octavian down for his nap. "I mean, I'm thrilled you're here and even more so that you have decided to keep Octavian here as well, but you do not have to."

"I know," Thomas shrugged, offering her a small smile as he bent back over the desk and looked over a book.

It had been a surprise to find that Thomas had stayed at the school. Graces had completely forgotten to ask Thomas about his plans in light of everything else, but when she had finally returned to the dorms she had been pleasantly surprised to see Thomas was there. Though she was glad she had been surprised by his presence after she had gone to her room, showered and changed. She didn't really want to answer any questions about why she was in the clothes she had worn the night before.

She had yet to see her brother, though. His absence was beginning to weigh heavily on her. Thomas had said he had seen him briefly at breakfast, but it didn't stifle her worry. There was far too much unknown between her and Draco. She felt like a canyon of secrets was separating them from one another. She couldn't tell Draco her secrets, though, despite how much she longed to talk to him about Neville she knew she had to keep him to herself. Not only did she have to keep it to herself for Draco's safety, but now she had crossed this point of no return.

Telling Draco now would ruin them. There was a deep betrayal in what she had done. And betrayal was like a well sharpened sword, it cut deep and quick. Even if the skin was repaired and the organs saved and the blood stopped she knew the scar would be too deep from the one slice. Neville was always going to be significant to her, a part of her would always hold on to him even after they were forced to go separate ways, but she couldn't allow her relationship with Neville to destroy her relationship with Draco.

"Maybe on Yule we could use the portkeys and go to your home," Graces suggested, thinking of how nice it could be to get away from the castle even if it was only for a few hours. She knew her mum wanted them to stay at Hogwarts, but she had left before to be there with Octavian, no one would think to find her and Draco there probably. And if someone showed they could portkey back.

"Oh, uh, I d-don't kn-know."

Graces frowned at Thomas' response. She looked over at where the younger boy sat and watched as he diverted his eyes from her. She cautiously stepped forward and caught his eye.

"Why not?" She was sure her suspicion was showing clearly on her face, but she didn't feel a need to hide that from Thomas. "Thomas, answer me."

"I d-don't s-stop y-you f-from g-going there," he answered belligerently. "Y-you h-have a portkey. I j-just d-don't th-think sp-spend-ding Y-Yule th-there is w-wise."

Graces raised an eyebrow and looked down her nose. It made sense, but it was a lie. There was something there.

"What are you hiding, Thomas?" she asked casually circling his desk.

"N-nothing!" Thomas exclaimed. "N-nothing. Y-you h-have a p-portkey. P-pretty s-stupid t-to g-give y-you a p-portkey if I have s-somth-thing to h-hide."

"And yet you're hiding something," Graces clipped, turning on her heels so he was forced to meet her eyes for a brief second. "Clearly it's not a danger or you wouldn't allow Octavian to be going home, correct?" Thomas remained stubbornly silent for a moment. "Correct?" Graces growled warningly, causing Thomas to look up briefly and nod. "So what is it?"

Thomas opened his mouth for a brief moment before closing it shut again.

"I'm h-handling it," he informed slowly.

"What is ' _it_ ' exactly?" Graces demanded slowly.

For the first time since the discussion started Graces could see the color in Thomas' eyes, he looked up at her with the same determination she had seen in Draco's eyes.

"It's p-patriarch b-busin-ness and I'm h-handling it."

"Patriarch business," Graces echoed. For a moment she was torn on what she wanted to do. She could get this out of him, but she felt as though doing that would demean him. She did want Thomas to be more of an adult, she wanted him to learn to be a man and a father, but she also knew he was so young. "Okay," she relented. "Whatever it is you're free to deal with. Just remember, Thomas, part of being a patriarch is knowing when you are in way over your head," Graces warned walking over to the door to leave.

"Unders-stood," Thomas vowed, a look of relief coming to his face.

Graces paused before she left and turned back to the boy sitting at the desk.

"Thomas," she started hesitantly. "If you needed... advice," she settled, "on patriarch matters, who would you go to?"

"You," Thomas answered simply.

"Really?" Thomas nodded. "You wouldn't go to Draco? Or Graham?"

"No," Thomas frowned.

"Good night, Thomas," Graces smiled contently, closing the door softly behind her. She slowly descended her way from Thomas' new private room when she saw familiar chestnut hair peeking out from a sofa.

"Graham?" Sure enough it was. Graham stood from where he was seated and turned around to face her. Graces had never remembered seeing the athletic boy looking so... small. "What are you doing here?"

"I overthrew my father as patriarch," Graham said hollowly, reclaiming his seat and facing the fire. "I'm not exactly welcome home for holidays."

"Oh, Graham," Graces whispered at a loss for what to say. She wasn't sure if Graham wanted her company, but he didn't protest when she took the seat beside him. "I'm so sorry."

"He made me do it," Graham said bitterly. "I begged him to reconsider. I even got out the pensive so he could watch the memory of those-those crows bringing in those pictures. I thought if he saw those he would declare his loyalty to the Dark Lord, but he didn't. It did the opposite of what I hoped and he just became more resolved to stay neutral. He said he would die before he bowed to the man that killed his daughter and grandchildren."

"It was like he didn't care that-that he still had living children left," Graham whispered, more to himself than to Graces.

"He loves you, Graham," Graces promised, taking his hand in hers and trying to give him comfort. "He loves all of you. You even said yourself he-he wasn't right after... She was his daughter."

"Yeah," Graham nodded. "He wasn't right, so I took over. I took the deal the Dark Lord had offered me and did what needed to be done, what he should have done. There's blood on my hands, Graces," Graham declared turning to her. His dark eyes piercing into her's. "I have blood on my hands. I've done... I've done things I never thought I would ever do."

"You had to," Graces hiccuped, gently placing a hand on his face. "It's okay, Graham. It is. You had to. You were protecting your family."

Graham moved her hand away and took a deep breath.

"Graces, we need to talk."

"About what?" Graces asked, her heart rate suddenly increasing.

"About Draco." Graces moved her hands away and didn't even try to conceal the terror that had just sprang into her. "The Dark Lord is not happy, Gray... not happy at all. Draco's failure with the mead—"

"That was beyond his control," Graces implored. "Graham, there was nothing he could do. He did all—"

"I know," Graham quieted, his strong hands taking her by the shoulders. "I know. It doesn't change the situation though. There's to be a meeting tonight." Graces let out a small whimper and the other boy looked away while she had a moment of weakness. "I'm going to do whatever I can," Graham vowed, still looking at the rug. "I will, Graces. Everything I can do, I will do. He's not going to kill him, don't worry yourself with that."

"What will he do?" Graces rasped, her throat becoming so tight she could barely say anything.

"Punish him... well, have Nott punish him." Graces let out another sob and buried her eyes in the palms of her hands. "I need you to be aware of the situation, Graces," Graham said quietly. "Really be aware."

"I am aware!" Graces snapped, wiping her eyes angrily. "Why do people treat me like I'm not?"

"Probably because you are not," Graham declared unapologetically. "It's not your fault. Draco has chosen to not disclose everything to you, so how could you be aware?"

"I don't need to know everything to understand the gravity!" Graces retorted angrily. "I know the situation I am in!"

"Then you understand that we are very much on the way to being joined." Graces felt like the air had been kicked out of her. "Your brother is failing, Graces. He failed in his last attempt. Failed," Graham stressed. "And we both know if he is not successful what will happen and we have all agreed that should the circumstances continue like this, with Draco unable to carry out his task, that you and I will marry."

_No. I'll be at the safe house,_ Graces reminded herself, closing her eyes from the chill that had set in her bones. _I will not be here. I will be at the safe house. No one is going to kill Draco and I will not be married to Montague._

"I'm not saying this to scare you, Graces," Graham apologized. "I'm saying this because I don't believe anyone else is truly telling you what is happening. And considering the circumstances I want to be as open and honest with you as possible."

"Open and honest," Graces repeated, opening her eyes and looking into Grahams. "What does that entail?"

"Me telling you what happens during this meeting."

"But I'm not supposed to know. Draco doesn't want me to—"

"It will be our secret."

Graces considered the boy sitting beside her for a moment. She knew why Graham was doing this. He was already resigned to the idea that he would be marrying her before the school year ended. His posture and pale complexion told her as much. He wanted them to be on good terms, to have a good amount of trust, because he wanted them to have a chance at a good marriage. He really had no idea that she had absolutely no intentions of ever marrying him.

"What should I know now?" she asked tightly, doing her best not to cry or feel guilty for using Graham's kindness under falsehoods. "Is Draco in danger now?"

"No, he's not. He's working on his task. I went up and checked on him earlier and brought him some food."

"Is he well?"

"No, he's a wreck."

"Is there anything I could do?"

"No," Graham answered simply, watching her closely for her reactions.

"I want to help him, Graham," Graces pleaded. "Maybe you could convince him to let me help, to—"

"I won't do that," Graham interrupted calmly. "You cannot help Draco."

"He needs me," Graces stressed.

"He does," Graham agreed. "And tonight after the meeting I will insist that he spend time with you tomorrow. Take a break and breathe, but you cannot help him with his task."

Graces made some sound of frustration, before getting to her feet and pacing the room. Graham had not told her anything she didn't already know. She thought that talking to him would give her more information so that she could actually do something to help her brother, but he wasn't giving her anything she could use.

"You can't help him with this task."

"YOU'VE ALREADY MADE THAT CLEAR!" Graces screamed, clenching her fist so she didn't smack the boy in front of him.

"But I can," Graham finished quietly. "And I will."

Graces halted her pacing and stared dumbfounded at Graham.

"He's repairing a vanishing cabinet," Graham began. "It's actually a set of cabinets. If he repairs the one here it will open up to another at Borgin and Burke's. When the cabinets are repaired a whole crew of Death Eaters will be able to come into Hogwarts and the task will be carried out."

"A vanishing cabinet," Graces repeated.

"I told him about it," Graham admitted gruffly. "You see a few years ago the Weasley twins shoved me in one. They revolted against me when I tried to take away house points from them, and, well, Draco found me after an embarrassing ordeal that I don't wish to talk about, and yeah... I reminded him about it a while ago, and he's been trying to repair it."

"I'll help him repair it," Graham swore, leaning back against the sofa and closing his eyes as his hand rubbed his head. "I'm going to do what I can, Gray, but you need to prepare for the worst and stop all this nonsense about a safe house."

"How do you know about the safe house?" Graces demanded, her tongue becoming heavy.

"Your brother told me."

"He told you?" Graces moaned, her voice cracking with emotion. "He told you?"

Graham opened his eyes and sat back up. Graces hated the way he looked at her. He pitied her, he obviously saw her as someone so stupid and naive she couldn't see the real world.

"I have to go," Graham sighed, standing up and straightening out his robes. "Pull yourself together and make sure that you are prepared to make the situation you are in as good as possible. Don't go screaming at your brother when he walks through those doors. Be there for him and don't pester him with questions. While you're at it apologize to him for whatever argument you two had. I don't care whose fault it was, and maybe go play some Quidditch tomorrow morning after he gets a good night's rest."

Graces opened her mouth to protest, but Graham raised a hand to silence her.

"You're not going to the safe house, Graces. You're not. Your brother will not go and I know you won't go without him."

"Draco isn't thinking. He just doesn't understand or—"

"You're the one that is lacking in understanding, Graces," Graham laughed bitterly. "I'm trying to help you two. If you don't want to listen to me, fine, but don't expect me to be bending over backwards for you either."

"Graham!" Graces called, hurrying after the other boy before he left the common room.

"I'm being summoned," Graham dismissed, not slowing his steps. "It's all going to be okay. I'm going to defend your brother as best I can tonight and save him any physical harm and you are going to save him from himself. It's all going to be okay, because you're smart enough to listen to me."

Graces stood there for a few moments torn between screaming and crying. She didn't know how the day had taken such a drastic turn, but it had. She folded her arms around her for a few moments before tearing out of the common room and sprinting to the owlery.


	64. Chapter 64

"I believe the best way to hurry Malfoy along is through his sister." Graham did his best to continue looking forward at the Dark Lord and not at the sadistic boy sitting beside him. "We could take her and hold her prisoner until the task was complete."

"It's not like he isn't working," Graham drawled. "He's working night and day. He barely eats and I think the only time he sleeps is when he passes out from exhaustion. I doubt taking Graces would improve anything. I think that would actually make things worse."

Remain calm, just talk through your thoughts, Graham told himself as the red eyes now turned their attention to him.

"Draco would lose his mind if Graces was taken. A good amount of fear is one thing, but taking her would break him. He would become... erratic—" Graham settled, "—in his work. He would be so consumed with fear that he would make stupid mistakes, maybe even get himself killed," Graham murmured quietly. "No, I believe taking the girl would be a grave mistake. Not to mention it would turn Dumbledore's eyes to Snape," Graham nodded towards the Potions professor sitting across from him. "Dumbledore would realize that the only way someone could get on Hogwarts ground and take the girl from the castle would have to be through Snape."

"Excellent point, Mr. Montague." the Dark Lord hissed, a small smile creeping onto his face.

"We could take his mother than," Nott insisted, clearly thirsty for blood.

"As of now we basically have," Graham pointed out, rolling his eyes at Nott as though this was obvious. "We've made it very clear that Narcissa Malfoy is our ward. I think it's best to keep things the way they are with Mrs. Malfoy, so long as the twins are on good behavior they have nothing to fear for their mother."

"Nott, while I realize you crave Malfoy blood, I think it unwise for you to forget the bigger picture here. Our goals should align only with our Lord." Years of proper breeding was on Graham's side at the moment. He knew this dance like the back of his hand. Be calm, be polite and bury your enemy under sugar-coated words. "If our Lord were to do as you wish then he would not only place the wrong kind of fear in Draco, but the wrong kind of fear in his followers. It's one thing if someone disloyal to our cause has families taken prisoner, but to take a loyal follower's family..." Graham let his voice trail off with his disapproval.

"If we take the girl or if we make Narcissa Malfoy a prisoner it will lead other members of the circle to begin fearing for their families when they are assigned a task. We already fear disappointing you my Lord, but add in this and you will see more mistakes happen when a task is being carried out. Some tasks require a certain amount of patience. Having a ticking clock by the ear will not allow the subtlety needed for grand endeavors... like infiltrating the Ministry."

"What is your proposal then?" Nott snapped, his anger showing.

Graham smiled at the outburst. It just made him look more sensible and Nott look too emotionally involved.

"Nothing," Graham shrugged, offering all a charming smile. Arella used to tell him he should smile like that more often. She used to coax it out of him, she insisted that if he smiled like this more often he could rule the world. Graham buried the memory of his sister somewhere deep inside him and continued on. "Malfoy has not succeeded, true, but it's not because of lack of effort or brilliance. He's been working on this cabinet like a house elf and even while so busy he has done his best to try different ways to complete the task. The necklace and the mead. He's actually being very proactive. He's not being foolish and only relying on one plan, he's concocted multiple."

"All which have failed," Nott grumbled.

"Not for lack of innovation and effort. Outside parties have gotten in the way."

"Failure has always been met with painful repercussions," Nott growled.

"Draco has not truly failed. He still has time and he still has a plan that has not been implemented." Graham realized he was coming off too pro-Malfoy and with a heavy heart continued. "Of course, I realize that an example needs to be made and consistency is always important. If there does need to be a punishment it should be on Draco. There is no need to touch his sister or his mother again."

Graham held his breath as his Lord studied him pensively. He couldn't suppress the shiver that came down his spine at the attention, but he did make sure to not look away.

"You have interest in the girl as well," the Dark Lord grinned. "It appears that you are just as biased as Nott when it comes to the Malfoys."

"I am hoping to be joined with Graces, yes," Graham admitted, a part of him enjoying the look of shock on Nott's face.

"She has not accepted though?" the Dark Lord asked, knowing the answer.

"No. Graces is... old fashioned in many ways. She wishes to get to know me before she seals herself to me. I'm spending the holiday at the castle with her, I thought it would aid us in getting some privacy to get to know one another."

"Is that why you're at the castle," the Dark Lord mused. "I believed you were there because your father no longer welcomes you in his home."

"Welcomed or not, as patriarch, I am free to be there regardless of his feelings," Graham stated coldly. "I will not deny that I am affected by Graces. I don't want her hurt or maimed, and I certainly don't want Nott anywhere near her," Graham continued, looking by his side and glaring at the other boy. "He's wanted Graces for a long time now, and he no longer cares how he gets her. He wants to hurt her because she refuses him. It's also the reason he enjoys punishing her brother. He thinks he can bend her to his will by using those she cares for. Smart, but also in many ways pathetic."

Nott rose to his feet and pulled out his wand at Graham's last retort.

"SIT. DOWN!" Graham demanded, as though he were scolding a child. "We are in the middle of a meeting. One does not pull out their wand in a meeting with their Lord. If you want to duel me use your wit and words. If you do not have the means to duel me properly with those keep silent."

The Dark Lord laughed and Nott's face turned a deeper shade of pink. Graham smirked as the other boy took his seat, but knew that he was far from his goal. He felt as though he were being toyed with. Yes, Voldemort was listening to him, but he had a feeling he was merely humoring him so that he would continue and he could enjoy it that much more when he agreed with Nott.

"I probably am biased, my Lord," Graham continued, praying that his next move was as well calculated as he thought. "Perhaps it would be best if Snape gave his opinion."

A flash of rage flashed in the older man's eyes as he glared at him from across the table.

"I'm her godfather," the older man pointed out icily.

"Please," Graham snorted. "You don't even believe that lie."

If his retort stung Snape it didn't show. The older man remained stoic. Snape took his time in gathering his thoughts on the Malfoy twins. Graham held his breath as Snape's jaw tightened and he looked up at the ceiling for a moment pensively.

"I agree with Mr. Montague, for the time being," he stipulated, thoughtfully twisting his wand in hand. "Nott hurt Draco Malfoy in October and you, my Lord, punished his sister yourself for Draco's failure. This is not an example of a follower not working diligently, the boy is working faithfully to the cause. Mr. Montague has pointed out that instilling more fear in him will only cause mistakes and I couldn't agree more."

"Not to mention I don't think Bellatrix would be happy for her sister or her sister's daughter to be held prisoner in the way Nott is suggesting. She is loyal to you, My Lord. It would be generous of you to allow her sister and her sister's children a bit of mercy in reward for her devotion."

Snape's opinion had saved both twins from any pain. Graham silently thanked the gods and counted each second until the dismissal. He knew that he had strengthened his ties with the Malfoys, but he also knew he had made an enemy out of Nott. He could feel the hatred rising off the boy beside him. It didn't matter too much at the moment. Graham was held higher than Nott for the time. Unlike Nott he had a job in the Ministry secured for next year, a job that was going to aid the Dark Lord in taking it over. He would have access to everything and everyone needed to get into the Ministry. The job his mother had been so proud of him for getting was the very thing that set the Dark Lord's sights on him for recruitment.

"My Lord, if I could have a private word," Graham requested, bowing slightly and taking a deep breath so as not to lose his nerve. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or terrified that his presence was still welcome and felt a chill as the last person left the room.

"Speak."

_Now or never._

"Graces does not wish to marry me," Graham began, maintaining his eye contact with the marble floor.

"And you wish me to order her to?"

"Wha—no!" Graham exclaimed, looking up in shock. "No, of course not. I... I wanted to point out that she does not wish to marry me because she truly believes her brother will succeed." Voldemort sat back in amusement and snapped his fingers for Nagini to join him by his throne as he continued listening. "Graces knows if she marries me her safety would be insured. She knows her arm would remain bare with her brother's success or failure and she also knows that our union would put her family's thoughts at ease and yet she has refused. She truly believes her brother will be successful and that means she also believes she will be taking the mark for you."

Voldemort paused in stroking Nagini's long body and waited for Graham to continue.

"Daughters are often overlooked if there is a son," Graham breathed, doing his best to not shake so much. "Draco as the patriarch of course has outshined Graces, but I implore you to take a look at her as something more than leverage."

"And tell me, Graham, how should I look at Miss Malfoy?"

"As an asset," Graham stated, moving closer to the table. "She's bright, talented and has an unusual skill for gaining people's loyalty. I have no idea how she does it, but she attracts people to her. People want to _help_ her. They want to _listen_ to her. Graces Malfoy can walk into a room and look through people's facades and find a loyal army."

"She's pretty," the Dark Lord snorted. "Enchanting women are always able to charm people into helping them."

"It's more than that," Graham insisted. "Much more. I am not standing here asking this because I find her attractive. I'm standing here because she would truly be an asset to you. She's gained multiple alliances for her family without ever using her womanly charms. She does it with her convictions. She always has."

"She's made it clear she does not wish to marry me and yet I want to help her. Her loss would weigh on our society. She could do so much, my Lord. People would follow you because she is there beside you. Have you not heard her name whispered in conversations? Taking the fall for Thomas Higgs has made her thought highly of and then living through what she did... She's strong, my Lord." Graham slowly took out a vial from his pocket at set it down in the middle of the table. "I don't expect you to trust my word," he rasped, losing his nerve as those red eyes glared up at him. "So I offer you my memories. I hope after you see these you will come to think of Graces as I do."

"Some use power to gain alliances. Others use gold, force, knowledge or fear, some like you, my Lord, use many tactics. Graces uses her presence."

Graham bowed lowly before hurrying to leave. He was shaking all over and could barely manage to hold himself straight when he left the room. He was terrified of the... creature he served, terrified beyond all measure. After seeing all he had seen since taking the mark he wondered how so many of the Lord's followers managed to look so calm. Severus Snape he was convinced had no soul. He hurried down the stairs of Malfoy manor and did his best to not look at Narcissa as he passed her and Bellatrix in the foyer.

No word had reached the woman's ears about her children. Everyone had made sure to not speak about what had been done to Graces or about Draco receiving punishments as well. Bellatrix rarely left her sister's side and when she was not there Narcissa lived in her home in isolation. It was for the best. If she ever gained the knowledge she would get herself killed. Still, Graham couldn't look at her knowing all he did.

He had thought he had succeeded in his escape when a firm hand gripped him by the elbow. He stared at the fingers dained with assortments of jewels before turning around and smiling weakly at the lady of the house.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Graham bowed, swallowing as much of his feelings as he could.

"Mr. Montague," the older woman replied coldly, her ice blue eyes alive with determination. "I wish to have a word."

Graham understood that this was not a request and followed the older woman. Narcissa Malfoy, even when being held, acted dignified. This was her home and she certainly presented herself as comfortable in it. She didn't step aside as other members of the Dark Lord's following came down the halls and she snapped her fingers impatiently for a house elf, pointing to whatever rug, picture or room needed attending. Her heels echoed off the walls with a piercing sound. She may not verbally make her unhappiness known, but the clicks gave testimony to her anger.

"Sit," she demanded, gesturing to an light pink armchair in the middle of the library. "Bella, leave us."

"Cissy—"

"LEAVE!" Narcissa bellowed, snapping her fingers and gaining two house elves in the room. "Leave or I will make you leave."

Bellatrix's jaw dropped slightly and she took out her wand as the two house elves loomed nearer to her.

"Narcissa, what do you think—"

"Don't," Narcissa hissed. "Don't you dare act like you don't understand where this is coming from. My daughter and my son are away from me and I don't believe you or any other person in this mansion is telling me the truth about them. I have lived with the Dark Lord for months and I don't believe for a second that my children have been untouched."

"What exactly do you think is happening?" Bellatrix asked, doing a great job of playing naïve. "They are at Hogwarts what could possibly—"

"Get out," Narcissa repeated, a threat lacing her words. "I know who you are loyal to, Bella. Get out of my sight."

Narcissa turned towards him, but Bellatrix grabbed her arm and twirled her attention back to her.

"You're my sister," Bellatrix pleaded.

Narcissa angrily jerked her arm away and took two steps forward causing the other woman to lean back uncomfortably as the blonde bared her teeth.

"The only thing I am is a mother," Narcissa whispered. "Now, get out."

Graham made a mental note that Bellatrix cowered from her younger sister. He wondered if she did this out of fear of losing her only remaining family member or if Narcissa Malfoy was an exceptionally powerful witch. Neither would be surprising. Lucius after all was drawn to power and he had clearly wanted Narcissa.

"Would you like a drink?" Narcissa offered politely, moving over to a small beverage cart and already pouring him and her a glass of what he could tell was fine mead. Graham held his glass cautiously and only took a drink once Narcissa herself took a seat and sat down in an armchair across from him. "Did you think I would poison you?" the older woman smiled, taking another long sip of her drink and exposing her fine neck.

"Forgive me," Graham begged. "I just—I don't really know you. It's wise to always be cautious these days."

"It is," Narcissa agreed, moving her glass about so the liquid ran from side to side. "Draco told me you offered your hand to my daughter." Graham took another sip of the mead and nodded. "He also mentioned you wanted a fair bit of coin should you marry her."

"Yes, I did," Graham chuckled. Graham quickly lost his smile when he saw the way Narcissa was glaring at him though. "That doesn't mean I don't care for Graces. I care a great deal for her and if we are joined I will live and die to keep her and my family safe." Graham frowned at his last few statements and put down his drink.

"Do you love her?"

"No. I care for her, admire her, respect her, wouldn't mind sharing a bed with her, but love is not the word I would use." Graham answered, his mind just beginning to click with what was happening to him.

"You have a lot of good feeling towards her," Narcissa commented, placing her own drink down. "What prevents you from loving her?"

"I'm—" Graham bit his tongue and glared at the woman in front of him. "I'm—"

"Don't fight it," Narcissa smiled gently. "Three drops of veritaserum is not something you can beat."

"I'm in love with someone else," Graham burst, damning himself as the words came out. Narcissa opened her mouth to continue with the interrogation, but Graham hurried to beat her. "Please don't ask me who," he rasped, tensing his jaw as though gritting his teeth would keep his secrets from spilling out. "I beg you. Please don't ask me who." He thought of Wamil. Sweet kind Wamil and what would happen to her if this woman saw her as a threat to her daughter, what would happen to him if someone knew about his feelings for her. A pureblooded death eater harboring feelings for a half breed, he didn't even allow himself to talk to her out of fear of what would happen. He barely admitted his feelings to himself. Only Graces knew his deepest secret. "Please. I swear I never would betray your daughter and that I would never rescind my offer to marry her, but do not ask me who. She doesn't matter It would never come to be. Please."

It had been a long time since Graham had cried in front of another person and he feared that he was on the brink of losing that streak now. Narcissa stared at him curiously before nodding her head. A sputter of relief came out of his mouth at the declaration and the situation he was in soon came more into focus.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I want to know how my children are," Narcissa stated, not looking at all like the weak woman he had seen seated at the table meetings. Graham tightened his jaw and looked down at the library floor. he wondered if she had laced his glass earlier with the serum or if she had taken the antidote.

"I took the antidote," Narcissa replied cooly, reading his mind. "Incase you asked for the other glass."

"Smart," Graham contended, trying to bury his anger. There was a moment of silence between them, it seemed Narcissa had no qualms with taking her time.

"How are my children?"

"They are fine."

"What makes you refer to them as fine?"

"They are both alive and unharmed."

"And yet you don't refer to them as good," Narcissa pointed out, clearly knowing how to drag out answers.

"Draco barely sleeps. He's malnourished and working himself to the bone and Graces is frazzled most of the time. She's different, but she seems to have a way to cope with everything. She isn't as bad off as Draco, but I fear she is living under delusion of escape."

"Escape?"

"Draco told me she has acquired a safe house," Graham continued, allowing the serum to take his knowledge and put them out into the open air. There was no point in fighting. "Should Draco fail she is convinced your family will be safe there."

"Where is this house?"

"All I know is she has one. I don't know anything else about it and I doubt she would tell me anything about it. I wasn't supposed to know she had it."

Narcissa stood up from her seat and paced about the room deep in thought. He watched as she passed the mantle filled with photos of her family. She didn't pause and stare at them, it seemed she was content to be in her own head.

"Are my children safe?"

"For now."

"How do you know?"

Graham prayed that this would be the end of Narcissa's questioning as he told her about what had just occurred in the meeting. She seemed to be slightly relieved and stopped her pacing and sat, as he told her about what had occurred between him and the Dark Lord in private. When he finished she had retreated again into her head.

"You put her in his sights," she whispered, her hand trembling as she touched her lips.

"To save her, should Draco succeed and she not marry me. He will be less likely to send her into a situation to die, if he sees use in her."

Narcissa took a deep breath and regained her composure. Graham felt a chill go down his spine as the older woman focused her eyes back on him determinedly.

"Have my children been hurt?"

And there it was. The question that would open the dam that had kept Narcissa's fury behind. He knew his answer would cause her death and he knew that him trying not to answer would speak just as much volume as his words.

"Yes."

"Tell me how."

"Draco has been cruciated by Nott on a few occasions and I, uh, broke his nose."

Graham found himself moving back in his seat as Narcissa looked up at him. She resembled a lioness calculating an attack.

"It wasn't malicious," he informed slowly, hoping to defuse the situation. "I was upset, Thomas Higgs had received the black letters from the ministry and I was desperate to know if my sister was alive. Draco wouldn't let me have the letters and we ended up dueling," Graham trailed off. "There is no bad blood between us."

"And what of my daughter?" Narcissa continued icily. "What harm has she come to?"

"Much," Graham answered, doing his best to not say all that had happened. "Mrs. Malfoy, I beg you to let this go. She's fine now. Safe and well, if you continue like this you will get yourself killed and then no one will be there to help your children."

"I'm not there now to help them," Narcissa quipped bitterly. "It doesn't matter if I am alive or not at this point. If I can't protect my children I may as well be dead."

Graham stood to leave the room, thinking he could run out of the manor and away from the next question, but he only made one leap for the door before Narcissa had him subdued by elves.

"How was my daughter harmed?"

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"It was my grandmother's," Narcissa smiled gently, placing a soft hand on his shoulder as he continued to examine the emerald ring she had given him. "I know Graces doesn't feel warm to you now, but should warmth come I think she would be happy if this were offered to her."

Graham nodded and did his best to smile at the woman sitting beside him. His head felt so funny from the drinks he had taken. He supposed it must have been nerves that made him down the mead so quickly. He hadn't expected to be pulled into Narcissa's private library to discuss marrying her daughter and what Narcissa Malfoy thought were important topics of such matters. He blushed as he recalled her discussing wedding nights and children. Now he really did wish she had asked about how her children were faring.

"You're a man of very few words," Narcissa noted, moving her hand away and allowing him the space he was desperately craving.

"You just caught me a bit off guard," Graham smiled, doing his best to not appear as uncomfortable as he was."

"I am sorry for that," Narcissa insisted, looking very much like her daughter in that moment. "I just wanted to talk to you about this. After Draco told me you offered your hand I realized I didn't know you very well."

"I understand," Graham contended, nervously fingering his glass. "I really should be on my way back to the castle though."

"Of course," Narcissa smiled, her charm and breeding shining through. "Give my children my love, Graham."

"I shall." Graham could practically taste the freedom that was on the other side of that door, but before he made it into the hall Narcissa stopped him. The older woman surveyed him for a few moments before placing the smallest of pecks on his cheek.

"I want you to know that I appreciate what you have done for my children," she whispered softly, offering him a sincere embrace that Graham stood very still receiving. "And I hope you can forgive me for all of this."

Graham frowned at the older woman's words.

"Forgive you?"

"For putting you in such a position. I realize you were quite uncomfortable, but I appreciate your honesty. I needed it."

"I just hope I've alleviated some of your worries," Graham smiled, using what was left of his charm for the evening.

"A mother always worries," Narcissa reminded, taking a step back from him. "Safe travels, Graham."

Graham nodded at the dismissal and quickly left the manor. He could feel the ring burning a hole in his pocket and decided it was probably best to give the piece to Draco. He didn't really want to be responsible for such an heirloom. He had the oddest feeling as he returned to Hogwarts. He couldn't shake the fog that had overcome his thoughts. He wondered if the day had worn on him more than he realized or if he was coming down with something.

When he entered the Room of Requirement Draco was already passed out on a desk, his fingers still tight around a quill. He really did feel sorry for him. For years he had found Draco to be annoying at times, but he had never truly disliked him. Most of Slytherin was filled with pompous, arrogant boys that leaned on their fathers. Graham was sure he was the same way at times. When you had a good life given to you it was hard not to feel entitled. It was all so different now though.

"Draco," Graham nudged gently. "Draco, wake up."

Draco made a few sounds of protests, but it didn't take much to stir him awake. The blonde groaned, but sat up as he had requested. Graham sat patiently while Draco's mind caught up with his body.

"Graham," Draco whispered, fear coming up into his silver eyes as he moved slightly back. "What—" Draco didn't finish his sentence and instead closed his mouth and waited.

_He thinks I'm here to punish him instead of Nott._

"I'm not going to hurt you," Graham sighed, taking a seat in the spare chair beside him. "You're not to be punished for what has happened."

"But... how, why?"

"Don't question a good thing, Malfoy," Graham smiled wearily. "Just thank the gods for it." Draco didn't seem to think that he should just let the subject drop, but he nodded quietly.

"Draco, I'm going to help you fix this damn thing," Graham informed, looking at the cabinet looming over them. "We are going to start working together."

"It's my task," Draco gritted stubbornly. "I can complete it."

"I'm not offering to help you; I'm telling you I am helping you."

There was a pregnant silence at his statement and he could tell Draco was fuming.

"Why? Does our Lord—"

"I have not been ordered to help you, I just am going to."

"Why would you want to help me?" Draco rasped, his face squinting up as he tried to hide his emotions. Graham looked away from the display already growing more uncomfortable.

"You don't deserve to die," he murmured. "I want to help and I figured if we still don't succeed things between Graces and I will not be too poor. It will give us a good start if I help you."

"You've always been blunt," Draco chuckled tightly.

"I think honesty is always best. No need to paint a picture that isn't true."

Draco nodded in agreement, but no other words were said for some time. Each of them were lost in their own thoughts. Graham looked at all the papers scattered around the desk and he felt like he was looking at Draco's descent into madness. Older papers had elegant penmanship while he couldn't even make out the words in the more recent ones. The sentences slanted and there were odd ink splotches here and there.

"You need to get better rest," Graham insisted. "You will begin taking a potion to sleep. I don't care if you sleep here, but I will make you sleep. If you're tired and worn out you will only make more mistakes."

"I'm fine."

"No. You're not. But you will be." Both boys tensed as Graham put an arm around Draco's shoulders. It wasn't natural for Graham to display this kind of comradery and Draco clearly wasn't expecting the touch. Graham was slightly shocked by how he felt about it as well. But Draco was one of the few people in the world that understood what he was going through. Neither of them wanted to do terrible deeds and both were being forced. Each of them had their sister's lives dangling in front of them and both were losing their souls in the process of saving them.

"You know Arella always met me off the train," Graham said, a large lump over taking his throat as he thought about his sister and how if she had been alive he would have seen her today.

"I remember."

"She-she insisted on being there when I or any of us were coming home." The feeling was taking over now, he could feel the hot liquid pooling out of his eyes and the pressure in his chest taking over. He could see his sister at the train station like she was alive. She was there right there outside the window of his compartment laughing and tapping her fingers on the glass and telling him to hurry up as he rolled his eyes at her. His nephew was in her arms waving at him wildly and looking in awe at the large train. "But she never came when I was leaving. She couldn't stand goodbyes," Graham sputtered, succumbing to his torture.

He was glad that Draco didn't move away or shift uncomfortably, that he was allowing him to drown in his sorrows and memories. He thought about all he had done since his sister's death and wondered if she would have still loved him the way she had when she was living or if she would be ashamed of the man he had become and from there he cried even harder and didn't move away when Draco moved closer and gave him support. He held to Draco to prevent himself from drowning in his emotions. There was no end for him. This was now his life and he didn't have the luxury to end it even, not with his family still in need.

"You're going to make it through this," Draco promised, his arms gripping him tightly. Graham could feel the other boy's bones through his clothes and wondered if making it through was the same as living. He refused to voice his thoughts though, determined to not make the situation he was currently in anymore awkward than it was. He would have his cry tonight and even allow himself some form of comfort and tomorrow he would carry on exorcising his demons.


	65. Chapter 65

Neville closed his eyes and blew out some of his nerves before reading the letter Graces had sent him again. The nice thing about this letter was that Graces felt she could go to him at once with her fears. The awful thing about the letter was he was miles away from her when she was this upset. He re-read the lines explaining what Graham had said to her and was torn between hating the boy and greatly appreciating him.

It was nice to know that Montague was genuinely a good bloke. He wanted to help both the twins and didn't mind putting his own neck out for them, but at the same time he didn't appreciate him putting Graces into a panic. There were other reasons Neville disliked Graham, but he knew those reasons weren't worth exploring. They were founded on jealousy and not what was best for Graces.

Neville fingered the letter he had originally meant to send the blonde, the letter that was full of words telling her how happy he was and how much he missed her already. It seemed so stupid now. He doubted she would welcome such cheer when she seemed to be so miserable. With a heavy heart he placed the envelope in his desk drawer and began writing another letter to the blonde. He was almost finished with his response to Graces' letter when a sharp knock disturbed him.

"Come in," he called off hand, folding the letter and stuffing it into an envelope as his grandmother entered the study. Neville stilled as she surveyed the room. Despite her telling him to use the room he still felt as though he were invading when he sat behind his grandfather's old desk. He wished his gran didn't insist he use the study. He had a perfectly fine desk in his bedroom, but she seemed to feel that sitting in a room with posters of Quidditch teams and clothes scattered everywhere was not a fitting place for a patriarch to conduct family business.

"Did you look over the forms that I told you about yesterday?"

"Um, no," Neville admitted slowly as he hid the old letter he had wrote to Graces in his pocket. "Sorry, I will look at them in a moment."

Augusta didn't say a word, but Neville still heard her disapproval. He sat awaiting her to say more, but the older woman just nodded and left him. Neville's uneasiness heightened at his grandmother's cold demeanor. It had been this way since he had stepped off the train. He racked his brain for what reason his grandmother would have for being upset with him and couldn't seem to think of anything. Was she still upset about him pushing her decision for the Higgs? He wasn't sure. He really hadn't been paying much attention to his gran in the past few months. He was only now realizing that she barely responded to his weekly letters.

Not wanting to upset her more in other matters he quickly sent his letter to Graces and moved on to the papers she wanted him to have a look at. It was really nothing of great urgency. She wanted him to sign a complaint to the hospital about moving his parents from their ward and refusing to discuss what renovations would cause such an awful uproar. Neville threw the complaint in a trash bin, knowing that once his gran saw the renovations come Christmas day this would not be a problem and the next set of papers all had to do with various estates.

Three cups of tea and two hours later all the papers were in order. Neville stood up from the desk and stretched his back. He had been exceptionally productive this morning. He had woken very early, unable to sleep because of Graces' letter, done some gardening to think and afterwards had stayed in the study. Now that he had finished responding to Graces and all of his patriarchal duties he had a completely open morning.

Neville decided that he should try to talk with his gran about whatever it was that was upsetting her and began to make his way over to the kitchen where he could hear her bustling around.

"Augusta, I think you're over reacting."

Neville paused as he heard his Uncle Algie. He wasn't aware his great uncle had arrived. He was surprised that the older man hadn't barged through the study and bear hugged him until his gran started shrieking at him 'leave the boy alone'.

"I am not overreacting, Algie," Gran snapped, banging down what sounded like a pot. "I never had these kinds of problems with Frank. Frank was always—"

"Neville is not Frank," Algie broke in warily.

"No, he most certainly is not, because Frank would nev—"

"I don't think you can finish that statement," Neville's uncle broke in angrily. "I highly doubt that Frank told you much about this portion of his life growing up! Frank very well could have harbored feelings for—"

"No! My son would never have been interested in women of such low calibre!" Augusta roared. "He loved Alice. He didn't even care that she was plain that he could have—"

"Alice was not plain," Algie growled.

"Well, no one would proclaim her gorgeous, that's for sure."

"Frank did. Frank thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He was absolutely smitten."

"Because he was in love with her heart," Augusta choked. "That's my point. He cared about the person and not the body."

"I'm sure he cared about the body," Algie sighed, clearly tiring over the argument. "Neville is a good lad. A good lad that's starting to... well, starting to become a man and it's normal and natural for him to have interests in girls. I don't think that this is something we—"

"I am well aware it is natural for him to have interest in girls! I did raise a son. What I disapprove of his which girls he is interested in. First there was that odd Ravenclaw girl that visited this summer. She was babbling constantly about wutsputs and other insane oddities, not to mention she had no sense of etiquette or personal space, and now I have to hear my grandson is interested in Graces Malfoy!" Neville cursed at his Gran's declarations. This was much worse than he thought. "Do you have any idea how humiliated I was to hear that my grandson asked out Graces _Bellatrix_ Malfoy?"

"I'm sure not nearly as humiliated as your grandson who was turned down so callously in front of all his peers," the older man answered angrily.

"Serves him right! If he had been looking at something more than looks then he wouldn't have asked out such a cruel girl and he would have been spared the humiliation."

There was a noise that sounded as though someone kicked a chair over and judging by the heavy breathing Neville assumed it was his uncle that was beginning to lose his temper.

"Why can't you just leave the boy alone?" the older man demanded, another kick to the chair sounding in the kitchen.

"Oh, that's your solution? Leave him alone. Leave him alone so he can destroy this family? In case you haven't noticed, dear brother, Neville is going to be the last surviving member of the Longbottoms. Neither you nor I will live forever, and he needs to have an heir. And I for one do not want an heir born from Graces Malfoy!"

"Augusta, I'm warning you to leave that boy alone. He is far too young to be considering such things. I don't want Neville even thinking of siring a child until he has completed his apprenticeship. Even then I would feel more comfortable if he waited."

"I can't believe you," the older woman bit out. "How can you say that? We have no heir for this family. There is no future for us at present. None. If something were to happen to Neville—"

"I think that we can both agree that should something happen to Neville neither of us would care any longer what happened to this family," Algie murmured hollowly. There was a pregnant silence that filled the whole house at his uncle's words and Neville crossed his arms around himself firmly and leaned against the hall wall as he waited for them to continue. "I don't know about you, but if anything happens to Neville I could care less if the whole world burned down to the ground."

Neville moved forward from the wall a bit to peek at his gran's reaction to his uncle's view and he saw her face for only a moment before realizing she felt the same. He stood staring at his shoes for a long time after that. He knew his gran loved him and he knew his uncle loved him, but he didn't like thinking of how they would feel if he died and seeing their face at the thought of his death was even more heartbreaking.

Despite his determination to forget the things Lucius Malfoy had said to him at the Ministry he found himself hearing the older Malfoy's words playing again and again in his head. " _Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause... Your death will not come as a great shock..._ "

"It's going to be okay, Augusta," Uncle Algie whispered gently. "Neville's going to be fine. He—"

"Just sit down and drink your tea," the older woman ordered, her voice much tighter than Neville was used to. "I don't need to be coddled; I'm just tired."

Neville heard the sounds of his grandmother cooking and knew from experience she was trying to distract herself from becoming upset. He bit the inside of his cheek and wondered if he should wait longer before entering the kitchen, his gran didn't allow anyone to see her upset and he felt badly that even now she wasn't allowed a moment of privacy because his uncle was there.

"I'll have a talk with the boy," Algie promised. "We'll have a good chat now if you like."

"No. Leave him be," Augusta ordered.

"You sure?" Algie asked unsurely. "I don't think it would hurt to have a man to man about well, women and things of that nature. I was never disagreeing with you about talking to him about that."

"Just never mind it," the older woman snapped. "I want this to be a nice holiday. I don't want anyone upset."

"We'll have a little talk," Algie chuckled. "Nothing that will get him upset. May make him red around the ears, but..." the older man let the sentence trail off and Neville felt a little better to hear both his gran and him share a small laugh, even if it was at his expense. Neville waited until plenty of time had passed since their discussions on him before he entered the kitchen.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite nephew!" the older man proclaimed standing up from his chair and greeting the sandy haired boy warmly. Neville grinned as his uncle poked his stomach and pinched his cheeks as he good naturedly jested about his loss of baby fat. "Always knew you would lose it," he laughed. "Didn't I always say he would be a dashing boy once he grew into his looks, Augusta?"

Augusta Longbottom rolled her eyes and herded his uncle back to his seat so they could eat. Neville cautiously took his chair, unsure if his gran was still upset with him. Neville thanked her when she put his plate in front of him and stilled as she ran her hand down the back of his head to the base of his neck, before she took her own seat. It was one of the very few signs of affection his gran gave and he couldn't help but smile softly at the warmth the touch gave to him even now.

"Do you have any plans for today?" his gran asked, putting an extra helping of bacon on his plate.

"No, not really," Neville smiled, glad to see she was no longer upset with him. "I was going to check on a few estates, see if maybe I could grow some plants there instead of taking up more of your garden while I was there, but that's about it."

"Why are you checking on our estates?" Uncle Algie asked, frowning curiously. "Everything should be well managed."

"I just want to make sure things are going well," Neville shrugged. "Some of the homes have older house elves and they aren't able to work the way they used to. I may switch younger ones to bigger homes and have the older ones go to cottages or places that we really don't mind becoming too dusty."

"Just be sure you don't upset them," his gran reminded. "I don't want them all upset thinking we're unhappy with the work they've done. I really can't deal with crying house elves for the next week. Even if the place looks awful pretend they're doing a fine job."

"I will," Neville promised, taking a bite of some eggs and wondering what Hermione would say if she knew how many house elves his family had. _She probably would insist I set them free,_ Neville thought looking over at Mable sitting on the kitchen counter removing string from the snow peas and humming some made up song.

"Does master Neville wish Mable to get him some more juice?" the house elf squeaked noticing his eyes on her.

"No, no, Mable," Neville blushed looking down at his plate. "I'm fine thanks."

"Some water?"

"No, I have some."

"More tea?"

Neville lifted his cup to show he had some tea and was fine.

"Does master Neville want to play outside with Mable after breakfast? Is that why he is looking at Mable?" the elf asked hopefully, making Neville turn even more red. He hadn't played outside with the house elf since before he went to Hogwarts.

"I'm sure Neville would just love that," Uncle Algie snickered, clearly finding this whole mess humourous. Neville glared at his uncle and was resigning himself to a half hour of play time with the elf, when thankfully his gran saved him from the task.

"I think Neville is a bit too big to be playing outside like a child, Mable," she said gently. "Perhaps you could help him with some gardening later though, I know you both enjoy that."

"Not as much as playing," Mable grumbled, going back to the snap peas. "Mistress is right. Master Neville needs to make the children. Then Mable would have someone to play with."

Neville looked over at his gran and uncle at Mable's statement and both older Longbottoms were glaring at the house elf, who shrugged her shoulders and continued on with her task, not seeming to care that her outburst had put the whole table into awkward silence.

Neville decided to ignore the comment and go back to what he was originally thinking as he looked at the small elf.

"Mable," Neville began slowly, trying to decide the best way to ask his question without upsetting the house elf. "I know there aren't children here for you to play with currently, but are you happy?"

"Neville, what kind of quest—"

Neville raised his hand to quiet his gran and kept his eyes on Mable who had paused in her work and seemed to be thinking.

"Is master Neville happy?"

"That doesn't matter," Neville continued shaking his head. "I want to know if you are happy."

"I'm happy if Master Neville is happy."

"No. No, Mable, I—"

"No you're not happy?" Mable asked, now looking distressed. "Why? What has Mable done?"

"Mable," Neville broke in, trying hard to grasp at some patience. "I'm fine. Look I'm happy. See." Neville smiled very big and put on a good show trying to display his own happiness. "Very happy, Mable. I just want to know if you feel happy."

"Neville, you're upsetting her," Gran scolded, standing up to go over to the elf. "Mable, it's okay. Neville is being odd, don't cry. He's very happy."

Neville made some sound of frustration that he instantly regretted seeing as how it put Mable in another fit of tears. His gran pursed her lips and shot him a dirty glare before holding her hand out to the elf and asking her to help her polish some silver.

"B-b-but Mistress doesn't like Mable p-polishing the s-silver," Mable stammered, taking the woman's hand and following her out into the hall anyways. "Sh-she s-says sh-she's p-perf-fectly c-capable."

"I know, but you do such a fine job and I am very tired today," Augusta explained, leading the elf to the dining room so that Neville and his Uncle were the only ones in the kitchen.

"What the bloody hell was all that about, Neville?" Uncle Algie demanded. "Now you've gone and got her all upset. Mable's sensitive, you know that. The whole lot of them are. She was so happy to have you home, why would you go making her upset like that?"

"I just wanted to know if she's happy," Neville defended, putting his hands up in surrender.

"Of course she's happy!" Uncle Algie exclaimed. "You're home. She had a ton to do this week getting things ready for you. I'm here for the holiday as well, so she gets to help make big meals and your gran is getting older so that's even more for her to do. She's happy as a clam!"

"Yeah, but what if that stuff doesn't make her happy?" Neville continued. "I mean. She's like our slave and—"

"Slave?" the older man repeated. "Mable isn't a slave. She's a house elf. She likes doing all this."

"What if she only likes it because she's brainwashed into liking it. My friend told me about this syndrome that makes you love your captors. It's called Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe if Mable was set free—"

Before Neville could say more his uncle was dragging him outside by the arm with his hand firmly over his mouth. Neville was a little shocked by the older man's force. His uncle had never even really scolded him, but right now he looked as though he were ready to bend him over his knee. Neville suddenly felt like he was two years old again.

"What's the matter with you!" Uncle Algie asked, his eyes wide with astoundment. "What if Mable heard you say that? She would have died from a broken heart if she heard you wanted to set her free. Damn it, Neville, she changed your nappies. You can't go disrespecting her like that."

Neville blushed and tried to burry his guilt. "I just—"

"No, you listen to me, Neville Longbottom. You may be the patriarch of this family, but that doesn't mean you can go treating Mable and any of the other house elves like that. We raised you better than that. We respect the beings living in this home. We never put any kind of Stockholm spell on Mable or any of the other elves. For you to even suggest that we did is disgraceful."

"I didn't mean anything like that," Neville begged, now really regretting his curiosity. "I just have this friend and she's really adamant that house elves are mistreated." Neville continued on about what Hermione believed. He told his Uncle about S.P.E.W, about how Hermione was hiding clothes in the dorms and then he even told him what he knew about Dobby. His uncle listened intently, frowning here and there, but his anger over the situation had clearly diminished. "So, I don't know, I thought maybe she was right. I mean I never asked Mable if she was happy."

Uncle Algie scratched his chin as he contemplated what to say next. He eyed Neville a few times as he went through all that he told him before telling him to take a seat on one of the garden benches. Neville sat and his uncle let out a long breath as he looked him over one last time before beginning.

"I'm very happy that you listen to the opinions of others," his uncle started out. "And I'm even more happy to hear that you consider the opinions of a muggleborn worth examining. A lot of other purebloods would have dismissed what this girl said without a thought. I mean, it would be easy to just tell her she doesn't understand because she hasn't lived in this world. So I'm very proud you are not like the majority of witches and wizards." Neville nodded, but had a feeling his uncle still wasn't too happy. "But it's important that you factor in your own experiences with this world, Neville. This Hermione girl, you say she's the smartest witch at Hogwarts, but she has not lived in this world. She may very well be smarter than Albus Dumbledore, but she's still a muggleborn. She doesn't understand this world the way you do. When it comes to living here with magical creatures, you know more."

"But-but Dobby is happy to be free," Neville pointed out. "What if—"

"Dobby was a house elf for the Malfoys. His situation is very different from Mable's. We've never let any harm come to Mable and we never will. Of course Dobby was happy to be free. Mable would certainly not be."

"You don't find it odd that her whole purpose is to serve us?"

"I think she likes to feel like she is needed. You've heard her, she thinks we can't survive without her taking care of us. She feels important and it makes her happy. Every year when you get back from Hogwarts she says that you got skinnier. She swears up and down that the house elves there don't take care of you. They don't hide his peas in his mashed potatoes, they don't use the right tea leaves for his morning tea, she goes on and on. Now, aside from this year you've looked the exact same, but your gran and I know she says it cause she likes to believe she's the only one that knows how to take care of you. She likes feeling needed. It makes her happy."

"I just wanted to make sure," Neville whispered, feeling smaller than he ever had before. His uncle never had gotten upset at him, all the older man did was joke around, so hearing him this upset by something he said was disheartening. Neville chewed the inside of his lip as his uncle sighed and sat down next to him.

"You're a sweet boy, Neville," his uncle comforted, putting an arm around him. "You were always good natured, not like other boys that like to upset little creatures. You've always been kind. I know now your heart's in the right place, but I really think it's best you not talk to Mable about this. If you want to do something nice for her get her a kitten. Lord knows she wants something to play with. She's the youngest of the house elves and the older ones don't want to do such things anymore. They prefer the quiet."

Neville nodded, but still didn't feel all that great about what had occurred at breakfast. He knew he was going to have to apologize to his gran and possibly to Mable, if she would let him and he found himself just feeling awful about it all.

"So... a muggleborn, huh?"

Neville frowned and looked up at his uncle who was staring off at the garden nodding his head and looking extremely uncomfortable.

"So, this Granger girl, you, uh, you fancy her?"

"Hermione?" Neville squeaked. "No. No. I don't. Well, I did back a few years ago, but not anymore. She's great, but she's yeah, just a friend."

"I see," Uncle Algie breathed, still deep in thought. "You know we never really have talked man to man about girls and things of that nature."

Neville did his best to not look as uncomfortable as he felt, but he still found himself fidgeting with his wand as his uncle cleared his throat to talk.

"I know we come from a long line of witches and wizards, I mean no one has ever married anyone that wasn't pureblood, but I don't want you to think that your gran and I would disapprove if you brought home someone who wasn't." Neville nodded in understanding and prayed that this would be the extent to the discussion. "I mean, it would be easier if she was a pureblood. She would know our customs and you two wouldn't have to argue about what world you wanted to live in and there wouldn't be this great cultural gap, but if she's not we wouldn't care so much."

"We want you to be happy, Neville. We really do. But now that you're at the age where, well, you are interested in ... romantic relations," his uncle decided diplomatically. "You need to start thinking about what you value in the girls you choose to date. Do you want someone who shares your culture? It's not something to dislike, but you have to remember if you marry let's say a muggleborn, they will want their children raised with certain ideals from their world. Nothing wrong with that, but you must be okay with it. Same for if you marry some girls from this world. There are still a lot of very strict pureblood families."

"I just want you to realize that dating is not something you can just play around with. There is a lot of feelings that come into play. So if you did get involved with someone, I want you to be involved with them for the right reasons. I don't want you being one of those boys that dates a girl because you want to snog her senseless."

"Right. Okay," Neville nodded, hoping that this would now be the end.

"Not saying you shouldn't want to snog them senseless," Uncle Algie continued. "I mean, if you don't want to kiss the girl until you suffocate then she's probably not the one for you." Neville groaned, but his uncle ignored him and continued on. "It's a big deal, Neville. Your gran and I have never approved of teenagers dating just for the hell of it. When you are putting feelings into a relationship and someone is giving you their feelings it's not a casual matter. It's a big deal. I can't tell you how much a broken heart hurts. It's awful. It's like something ripped your heart out of your chest and took the color from the world. Food doesn't taste right and you always feel like you're on the brink of tears. It's awful. You need to take care in your choices when it comes to dating. I would be very ashamed to hear you dated a witch casually and then broke her heart when you got bored."

"I wouldn't do that," Neville proclaimed, heat rising to his cheeks.

"Good," the older man clipped, shaking his shoulders good naturedly. "But I still need to talk to you about some things."

"Uncle Al, I really don't need this talk. I don't. I understand. Really I do."

"Then you can just sit here and nod along," his uncle shrugged, his hand gripping Neville's shoulder even more firmly. "I know right now you and the other boys like to talk a lot about girls and, well, I know some of those talks aren't very... appropriate."

"Oh, gods," Neville groaned, putting his face in his hands.

"You, uh, know how it all works right? The parts and, well, what you do with a woman, right?"

"Yes," Neville groaned.

"I know we talked about it some when you were younger, but there's a lot more to it then the mechanics of it all. I know that they also talked with you boys about it at Hogwarts, but I highly doubt they covered the emotional part of it all and—"

"Uncle Algie, this really isn't necessary. Really it's not."

"It is, trust me," the older man sighed. "I know at your age you get curious about it and you think about all the time, and there's nothing wrong with that. I know you've probably looked at a fair share of some dirty magazines too, but I want you to understand that you shouldn't rush things like sex. For you right now the main thing is you want to because your hormones are going wild and it feels good and all those reasons are the very wrong reasons to do it. Because for girls how it feels is part of it but the bigger part for them is the emotional aspect."

"Just because I'm a boy doesn't mean the emotional aspect isn't important for me too," Neville pointed out, a bit peeved that his uncle would think differently. "I care just as much about that as a girl does. Maybe even more than some girls."

"I didn't mean to offend you," his Uncle apologized. "I just know that boys talk a lot and they all start to make you feel pressured to do things. Like if you're not doing something with a girl there is something wrong or—"

"That doesn't mean I would do it."

"I know," his Uncle sighed. "But it's everywhere and I know at your age it's all you boys can think of sometimes." Neville thought about the book Ron was reading "Twelve Fail-Safe ways to Charm Witches" and blushed as he remembered Ron's comment that it wasn't all about wand work. He had glimpsed at a few of the pages and it was pretty obvious that the subject his uncle was talking about was definitely a topic in that book.

"We just talk," Neville muttered his ears beginning to heat up. "I'm sure girls talk about it as well."

"I'm sure they do," his Uncle agreed. "But I want you to realize it's supposed to be special and that when you do decide you want that you need to make sure the person you're with wants it too and doesn't feel pressured to do it because she wants to please you. I don't want you feeling pressured either," his uncle added. "I also don't want you forgetting to use a charm."

"I won't," Neville reassured.

"We don't need an heir anytime soon," his Uncle chuckled. "Your gran and Mable need reminding of that, but really you wait and do the thing properly. Marriage is a very, very big deal, Neville. You're bonded by a lot more than a piece of paper. Your magic and her magic are going to be locked to one another. It's very serious. You are going to live a very very long time, son. A long time and you will have a miserable life if you choose the wrong witch."

"How do you know which is the right one?" Neville asked, now actually interested in what his Uncle had to say.

"You just know," his Uncle nodded. "I mean after a while the passion starts to change. It doesn't go away, it just changes. It doesn't threaten to burn you alive anymore, it's different. Things that are silly start to mean more to you than anything else." His Uncle grew silent for a moment and Neville suddenly felt like he was invading something. "And your magic... It feels different. Maybe it feels different because you're happy and it's a kind of happiness you only know when you're in love, or maybe it's something else. Maybe our magic knows before us that it's around the one, but my point is you feel it."

"What if... what if you can't be with that person?" Neville asked curiously. "Like you just can't."

"Because they've passed?"

"No," Neville said slowly. "I mean what if you just can't be with them. Like you both love one another, but you can't be together."

"Why would you not be able to be together if you loved one another?"

Neville shrugged and murmured that he didn't know, not wanting to give anything away.

"If she's the one you will be together," his Uncle promised, tightening his grip on him. "Trust me. Nothing would keep you or her apart. Love is very powerful, Neville."

Neville doubted that love would be enough for Graces and himself. Even if it was a matter of love and Graces somehow did love him as much as he loved her, she also loved her family and he doubted that romantic love could tear her away from those bonds.

"Your gran and I won't be around forever, Neville," Uncle Algie continued softly. "I'm sure you've noticed that we are getting older."

"Yeah, but you two are in good health," Neville dismissed, not at all liking this turn.

"We are," his uncle nodded pulling him closer as though to hug him with one arm. "But the thing is when we pass that will be it. We won't be here anymore and, well, we both don't want you to be alone."

Neville suddenly felt sick. He had never thought about the fact that when his gran and uncle passed he would be all alone.

"Now, don't go making yourself worried," his Uncle laughed sensing his fears. "You have plenty of time. We both are in good health, but I just want you to be thinking of these things. You want a partner in life, someone that takes away all your loneliness. Don't marry someone just because you like them enough and they're a pretty face. You marry someone as sweet and genuine as you, Neville. Someone that you consider to be your best friend. Now, I know your gran doesn't approve of that Luna girl, but if you like her I'll tell her to keep her thoughts to herself."

"Luna? No, she's just a friend. I don't think we're a very good match. She's a bit off in her own world too often for my taste."

"I see," Algie nodded, pursing his lips a bit. "And, uh, what about this Malfoy girl then? What was that about?"

"You heard about that, huh?" Neville asked, hoping to stall for time.

"Your gran was mighty upset about it. Someone decided to shove it in her face when she was out in Diagon Alley." Neville groaned at the image of some pureblood high society witch bringing up such gossip to his gran. "Not exactly who we think of you being with, Neville. Pretty girl for sure, but she doesn't seem very kind."

Neville was glad that his Uncle had chosen to not mention Graces' family and instead was going off what he heard of her personality. Neville really couldn't argue that Graces was a kind individual if his uncle had heard what she had said to him when he asked her out, so instead he nodded in agreement.

"You're young," his uncle grinned. "Don't be too hard on yourself about it. Just remember lust is very different than love. When you think of asking a girl out pretend that you have to talk to her through a closed door for a week, then decide if you want to date her."

Neville was relieved when his uncle stood up from the bench.

"Well, I think that's enough talk don't you?" Neville nodded enthusiastically causing both of them to share a laugh. "I know. Not so fun to talk about. I remember when my dad gave me a talk. I remember when my mother did too, be thankful your gran doesn't want to sit you down and discuss those matters with you."

"I am," Neville laughed. "I'm very, very glad."

"As you should be," the older man winked. "Are you coming back in?"

"Oh, no I think I'll go check on those estates now," Neville reminded, heading back towards the house so he could grab the portkeys, since he couldn't apparate. "I'll be back sometime after lunch."

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Graces was beginning to grow incredibly anxious. She felt like she had been waiting in the open field for Neville for hours. Granted she knew it had only been ten minutes, but she was tired of waiting. She shouldn't be there at all anyways. She should be at Hogwarts. If Draco knew she left the castle he would lock her in the dungeons until summer probably. She had used the portkey that Thomas gave her to get to the Higgs mansion and then from there apperated to the spot Neville told her to meet him, all things she should not be doing. She just thanked the gods her father had connections in the ministry and had the trace taken off her and Draco, or she would surely be facing some serious consequences. Harry Potter may be able to get away with underaged magic, but she couldn't when her father was locked away.

After a few more moments of waiting she decided that she should leave. Neville must have not been able to get away, or he forgot about their meeting. She had just put her hand in her pocket to touch the portkey to return to the Higgs mansion and then to Hogwarts when she felt Neville's hand on her shoulder.

"Going somewhere?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"I-I—" Graces frowned, it seemed so silly now. "I was going to go back to the castle."

"Were you," Neville smirked. "Whatever possessed you to want to do that? I mean, you haven't even seen the safe house."

"I don't know," Graces whispered, letting go of the portkey. "I just—"

"Had an overwhelming urge to leave?"

"What's going on?" Graces accused, stepping away and looking around the field.

"You know how there are charms to ward off muggles?" Graces nodded. "This safe house has a charm to ward off witches and wizards. You get here and suddenly have a million excuses to leave."

"Smart."

"My father apparently thought so," Neville smirked, taking out a piece of paper and handing it over to her.

Graces read the address on the old piece of parchment and looked up to see the safe house standing just a few hundred yards in front of her. It was no mansion, just a simple home. It was in dire need of paint and the windows looked like they could use a good wash, but it wasn't as bad as she had thought it may be.

"Come on, I'll give you the tour," Neville grinned, walking in front of her to the door. "It's not grand or anything in there, but I think you'll be satisfied. You will definitely be safe," Neville stressed, opening the door for her.

Graces looked up at him hesitantly before walking into the home.

"The bedrooms are upstairs and, well, you can see where the kitchen and other rooms are."

It was definitely different than what she was used to. She had grown up in a home where the library was in the west wing, the kitchens in the east, the dining room being in the east by the kitchen and the formal dining room being northeast. She wasn't used to stepping into a home and seeing where the living room and dining room was. She took a step forward and turned into the hall that lead to the dining room, halting as she realized the kitchen was connected to it. It was as though the big room was just divided: the first half was the dining room the second half was the kitchen. There was no walls separating the two.

"Pretty standard kitchen," Neville shrugged, leaving Graces to believe that this home wasn't as shabby as she believed. "There's a walk-in pantry over here," Neville informed, moving over and opening the door. "I stocked it just in case. I don't really know what kind of food you all like, but I figured I couldn't go wrong with all these. We have multiple gardens around the estates so you will always be in good supply of fruits and vegetables so long as they are in season."

Graces nodded and picked up a can of formula that she assumed was for Octavian.

"He's starting solids now," Graces informed quietly, smiling at the thought of how big he was getting.

"Oh, so what does he need?"

"I'll take care of it," Graces offered. "I'll stock this myself for Octavian if you give me a portkey."

"Sounds like a plan," Neville smiled, reaching in his pocket and handing Graces two old iron keys. Graces raised an eyebrow at the second one, before realizing it was for Draco. "I just want to make sure you both are safe," Neville explained, his hands resting on her shoulders. "I know what Graham said made you scared, but Graces you are safe here. Alastor Moody himself helped set this place up. You all would be safe."

"I think Draco just needs to see it," Neville continued slowly.

"You want me to bring him here?" Graces asked, a bit surprised that Neville thought that would be a good idea.

"I do," Neville confirmed. "I think if he saw this place, got to stand in the rooms, see the fields he would start thinking of it as real. Right now it's just some fairy tale, but once he sees it that will change."

Graces looked around the pantry and bit her lip unsurely.

"Either way he needs that portkey," Neville stressed. "Just in case."

"I know," Graces conceded. "I just don't know if it will work. Draco really doesn't think hiding is an option and-and if I bring him here he will have loads of questions that I can't answer."

"Just refuse to answer them."

"I can't just refuse to answer them, Neville," Graces groaned, stepping out of the pantry. "Draco and I don't operate like that. Well, at least we never used to before all this." She waved her hand around instead of listing all the things that had torn her and her brother apart. She could feel Neville's arms wrapping around her to give her support and she leaned back into his chest, not too proud to take it.

"You do what you think is best," he whispered, gently kissing the back of her head. "But let me put away some of your fears and show you the best part of this house."

Graces followed Neville outside the kitchen and into an old shed, where he lifted a part of the floor up and beckoned her to jump down. Graces at first refused, not liking the idea of jumping into basically dirt. It wasn't a cellar in there; it was just a giant hole, but Neville insisted and she eventually hopped in with him.

"There's probably spiders in here."

"Probably, but look at the wall."

Graces looked to where Neville was pointing, but didn't quite understand what it was she was looking at. Mable, Ipsy, Fennel, Prod and a whole list of odd names were written along an old sign against the dirt wall.

"I don't understand," she admitted impatiently.

"If for some reason someone finds you here—it won't happen, but if it does—you all need to get out here. Hide out in this cellar and just call out one of those names and one of our house elves will be here to take you somewhere safe. You will know the moment someone comes near the property, it will feel like your whole body is vibrating. If you feel that bring everyone down here, and if the vibrations begin to hurt—it will feel like needles pricking your skin—call out one of the names immediately. If the vibrations turn painful it means they are in the house."

"What if the elves don't come?"

"They will come," Neville promised, wrapping his arms around her. "They will come and they will know that there is danger because of where you are calling from. They all have been given strict orders to come here if called."

Graces racked her brain for a reason this couldn't work and couldn't find any. This place was better than she had even dreamed. An escape plan, there was an escape if they were discovered. She leaned against Neville and realized she didn't need an escape plan. Neville was her secret keeper and she knew he would die before he let harm come to her. She looked up at him behind her and kissed him softly, unable to find words to express her gratitude.

"Shall we look at the rest of the house now?"

"Okay."

Neville helped her out of the hole and the two of them left the shed in awkward silence. She knew exactly what the tour of the bedrooms were going to lead to and while her and Neville had been together many times, it was still new for her to be with him and not cling to some delusion that it was casual. Neville seemed to be aware as to what was going to happen as well and while he took her in each room and took extra time to show her Octavian's room she knew he just wanted to get her into what would be her room.

"And this is your room," Neville announced, opening the door and allowing her to go in.

"You painted it purple," Graces noted, smiling as she walked around the small room.

"Well, yeah, it's your favorite color."

Graces smiled at Neville as he lingered in the doorway. She turned away so she could hide the fact she was trying not to laugh. Purple was her favorite color, but that didn't mean you should paint a room vibrant purple. She felt like the room was more for a little girl than for a woman. A pastel purple would have been better, but she found it just so... so wonderfully Neville that he would paint it the most purple purple he could find.

"You're adorable," she declared, shooting him a big smile from where she stood.

"So you like it?" Neville asked, seeming to be quite pleased with himself.

"I love it," Graces corrected, doing her best not to laugh as she noticed the sheets matching the paint.

"Good," Neville grinned, staying in the doorway and smiling proudly. "I was hoping you would."

They both just stood there for a few moments both unsure of what to do next. Graces gave Neville an awkward smile and he let out a nervous laugh and folded his arms. Graces smirked as Neville opened his mouth to say something and then quickly shut it. The nice thing about being with a Gryffindor was Graces knew she didn't have to wait long for him to just come out and say whatever he was thinking. She stayed silent as Neville fidgeted in the doorway mustering up his courage.

"I know I invited you here to put your mind at ease, but now I'm just dying to kiss you," Neville admitted, tightening his arms in front of the chest.

"Just kiss or more?"

"More," Neville answered striding across the room and taking her up in his arms and kissing her heatedly until she fell back onto the bed. Neville wasted no time in pulling her blouse up and over her head and discarding his own shirt as well. Graces didn't even have a moment to be self conscious about her scars, Neville was blanketing her with his body and devouring every inch of her he could find. It was pretty impossible to feel undesirable when the man you wanted most was on top of you crazed with need.

"I swear it feels like I'm burning alive with want," Neville gritted, his hands holding her firmly against his hot chest.

"I know the feeling," Graces smiled against his lips.

That familiar need was now pulsing between her legs and she bit her lip in anticipation as she felt Neville remove her bra and press his lips against her sensitive peaks. Graces closed her eyes and tipped her head back as Neville made his way down her body.

"Gods, I love your legs," Neville moaned, taking the last bit of her clothing off and kissing the inside of her ankle as he ran his hand down the smooth skin.

"Imagining them wrapped around your waist?" Graces teased, remembering Nevile's comment from so long ago.

Neville let out a deep throated chuckle and began trailing kisses up her legs causing the blonde's breath to hitch.

"No," he whispered growing closer to her sex. "Currently, I'm imagining them wrapped around my head."

Graces flushed at the image, but Neville seemed to have no embarrassment. He moved slowly up, dragging his tongue along the curve of her legs, enjoying the length. People had always joked that she was all legs and it wasn't until Neville that she realized exactly how long they were. She could feel her heart pounding faster with each passing second as the sandy haired boy moved closer and closer.

Graces groaned as Neville plundered her with his tongue. She had nearly forgotten how good it felt to have Neville's mouth on her like this. She grabbed his hair and pulled him closer, her legs quaking around him with pleasure as her body became more taut from the strength of what was building.

Neville seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the sounds she was making, as well as her fingers wrapped in his hair. She was dissolved with pleasure and he was playing her like a fine tuned instrument. It was almost too much and she found herself pushing away from him as the feeling became more intense. Neville chuckled at her antics and stood up from the bed to unbuckle his belt and remove what was left of his clothes.

She stood up with him and ran her hands down his body, kissing his chest while she ran his length in her hand.

"Not so hard," Neville chuckled, moving his hand to hers and showing her how he wanted to be touched. Graces flushed, but felt more at ease as she stared up at Neville's kind smile.

"Sorry."

Neville made some noise of amusement and shook his head dismissively.

"Lie back down," he ordered hungrily, pushing her back down onto the bed. "I'm not done with you, Miss Malfoy."

"Oh, you're not?" Graces grinned, letting out a small gasp as Neville moved back between her legs and slowly dragged his tongue along her.

"Definitely not," Neville grinned. "I'm going to make sure you are perfectly satisfied and then I am going to have you like I expect to die tomorrow."

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Neville gently kissed Graces' shoulder blade for what must have been the thousandth time. She laid beside him completely worn out and he never felt more alive. He ran his hands along her side, unable to keep himself from the porcelain skin gleaming before him. He loved seeing her like this. He loved knowing he could wear her out to the point of exhaustion.

"So if you died tomorrow would you be happy?" Graces asked, her voice still breathy.

"No," Neville laughed softly. "No, not at all. I think I would need to do that a few more times before I crossed over."

Graces hummed a satisfied response as he moved her hair and kissed the back of her neck.

"I would die happy," she revealed, stretching luxuriously and turning around to face him.

Neville smirked proudly and gathered her in his arms, too content for words.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?" Graces asked, closing her eyes and laying against his chest.

"Would this be okay with you? Now that you've seen this place and know what it looks like, where you'll be, would you still rather be here than married to Montague?"

Graces opened her eyes and adjusted where she was lying so that she was on the pillow with Neville. She stared at him curiously for a few moments.

"What kind of silly question is that?"

"It's not that silly," Neville whispered, brushing his fingers against her cheek. "One plan means you are stuck, like a prisoner. And the other plan—" he continued taking a deep breath "—the other plan means you and the ones you love are free to go about your lives."

"Except Draco would be dead," Graces reminded.

"Not necessarily," Neville pointed out. "He could succeed at whatever task he has been given and you could marry Montague so you wouldn't have to take the mark."

"Where's this coming from?"

"I just want to know," Neville whispered, kissing her lips and reveling in the taste. "Is this still enough for you?"

"More than enough," Graces promised, leaning in and kissing him slowly.

"Good," Neville sighed, gathering her in so that she was tucked under his chin. He wanted to hold her close and beg her not to marry Montague, no matter what came, but he kept his mouth shut. Montague was the best safety net she had and also, if she decided she didn't want to take the mark he wanted her to have that option. He reminded himself that right now she was his and he held her tightly and vowed he would do everything and anything in his power to ensure he would never have to let her go.

"I'm not going to see you for the rest of the holiday, am I?" Graces asked quietly, her voice already becoming thick.

"No, you're not," Neville admitted, kissing her forehead. "I don't want to draw attention to this place. I don't want my uncle and gran coming here. Not to mention I don't want you leaving the castle. I just wanted you to have those portkeys and for you to feel safe again."

"I understand."

"I, uh, do have something for you though," Neville continued, taking his wand and summoning the picture Colin had given him. "I just thought maybe you would feel better if you had a way of seeing me."

Now that he was handing her the photograph he felt very silly. It was kind of an odd thing giving someone a picture of yourself, as though you think they want to stare at your face randomly through the day.

"You look so... dashing," Graces said, a small surprised smile forming on her lips.

"I don't know if I like how surprised you are by that." Neville laughed, moving her hands to look at the photo.

"I'm sorry," Graces laughed. "That's not what I meant. I mean... it is, but I don't know. You're always handsome, but something about this picture makes you look... sexy." Neville shot her a glance from the corner of his eyes, but didn't say a word. She did have a point, he just didn't know what it was about the picture that made him look that way. "What are you doing here?" Graces asked.

"Explaining what the roots of a mandrake plant do."

"Maybe that's it. You're teaching, you look so serious and... poised. Confident. You'll be one sexy professor one day, Mr. Longbottom. The girls in your class will be swooning when they catch their first glimpse of you teaching."

"Stop it," Neville scoffed, pushing the picture down. "You're such a prat."

"I'm adorable," Graces corrected, leaning up and kissing him. "Can I convince you to stay here with me for twenty more minutes," Graces asked, her hand disappearing underneath the sheets to meet with his already throbbing length.

"I think that can be arranged."


	66. Chapter 66

"Oh good, you're home," the older woman proclaimed from the table. Neville looked at the vulture hat seated on his gran's head and knew exactly what it meant. They were going out, which means they were probably going to visit his parents.

"Are we visiting them today?" Neville asked, moving into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water. "I didn't realize."

"Your mother isn't doing well with the relocation," Augusta sniped, clearly upset with the ordeal. "Those healers don't seem to care at all either. They just say it's temporary and that while she is upset now it will only be for a week and they just expect me not to worry."

"You know, the last time I was in there she was clawing at her arms like beast and screaming under a table."

"What was the mediwitch doing?" Neville asked taking a sip of water and waiting for his gran to tell him what he already knew. "Was she handling it?"

"She was being exceptionally forceful with her, Neville. There was no need for her to use her wand like that on your mother. She's a meek woman. There's no need to use a wand."

Neville knew better than to argue with his gran about this subject. To him the staff at St. Mungo's did nothing wrong when they were forceful with his mother. She was a danger to herself and to other people when she became distressed. He had seen that first hand. Normal people didn't claw their arms till they were bloody.

"It's too much stimulation," his gran continued. "I mean putting her in a new place like that with all those other new patients. It's too much for her. I told them when they moved her that she needed her own room at the very least, but they won't listen to me."

"Do they have another room to give?"

"They have a whole hospital, Neville!" gran snapped. "I'm sure they could fine one measly room."

"It's just temporary," Neville reminded. "It's going to be so grand when they have a whole new ward for them. Mum is having a hard time now, but it's going to be all better come Christmas."

"They're probably just painting the room and adding new beds," his gran stated bitterly. "All this trouble for some paint."

"That's not what I heard," Neville murmured quietly staring into his glass. "I, uh, heard that they are totally rebuilding the ward. New rooms, staffing it adequately. It's supposed to be really grand. They got an anonymous donation and all the funds are going to the ward."

"If that's true why be so secretive about it?"

"Nice surprise for the families," Neville shrugged, knowing that it was meant to be a nice surprise for him before Slughorn had ruined it.

"That's idiotic," Augusta scoffed. "I hope it's true though. It would be nice to have the ward staffed. Maybe there would even be someone competent."

Neville drained his water and grabbed his coat to leave with his gran. He just wanted to get this all over with. He knew that this would not be a quiet visit, not because his mother was apparently not doing well, but because his grandmother looked to be on the verge of war. He really hated these kinds of visits. He just prayed she didn't make any staff members cry.

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"THIS IS ABSOLUTELY OUTRAGEOUS! I DEMAND TO SPEAK WITH SOMEONE! NOW!"

"Mrs. Longbottom, I understand you are upset, but this is what's best for Alice."

"This is what's best. This is what's best?" the older woman challenged, gesturing to Alice Longbottom angrily.

"Mrs. Longbottom—" the mediwitch began with forced patience, "—you have to understand. We did this to prevent Alice from injuring herself and others. I know this seems harsh, but it—"

"Harsh. Harsh is not the word I would use," Augusta bit out icily, her rage causing her to tremble. "Inhumane is what this is and if you think I will stand for this you have another thing coming."

Augusta Longbottom moved towards the bed that Alice was bound to, but the mediwitch manoeuvred in front of her preventing the older woman from undoing the straps.

"Please understand, Mrs. Longbottom, please. We are just trying to do what's best for Alice. Isn't it better to have her subdued then to allow her to injure herself? Now, her new healer is coming today," the young women stressed. " _Today_. And I am sure that she will have a better plan of action. Please, please don't make this any worse then it has to be. Alice is calm now. She's—"

"She's strapped to a bed crying! Get out of my way!"

"Gran," Neville broke in, taking his grandmother's arm and steering her away for a moment. "Gran, they know what they are doing. Mum, is fine. She's upset, but she's not hurt or—"

"You think that is fine?" Augusta demanded, gesturing to his mother who was turned away crying against the pillow her arms and legs fighting to move into a fetal position. "That's your mother, Neville, your mother. You think that her being treated like this is fine?"

"They are trying to help her," Neville implored. "They don't want her to get hurt. You know how she gets when she gets scared."

Neville inwardly groaned as his gran just shook her head and with a flick of her wand released his mother. The mediwitch took a few step backs and had her wand at the ready, but his mother didn't make any movement other than to roll in a ball and cry louder. Neville quietly took his own wand out too. He knew from experience how fast this could change. Augusta was the only one not at all worried about Alice's actions. Then again she was the only one that didn't get injured from his mother's episodes. The older woman sat on the bed and gently ran her hand down his mother's back whispering a stream of comforting words. The crying died down and eventually Alice's head was in the older woman's lap as she rocked herself back and forth and babbled to herself.

"Until the ward is complete we will take Alice home with us," Augusta proclaimed, rubbing her fingers along the bondage lines of the frail woman's wrists.

"No, we won't."

Neville startled himself even by how forceful his words were. He almost immediately lost his nerve when his gran's eyes shot back at him, but the mediwitch's look of relief fueled him to maintain his stance.

"We are not equipped to take care of her," Neville stated evenly. "Not at all equipped. She's here for a reason. We can't just take her from the people that know how to take care of her."

"You consider this care?" Augusta asked in disgust. "We wouldn't even treat an animal like this."

"We would if it posed a danger to itself or others!" Neville exclaimed a little too loudly. Alice had now jumped off the bed and was covering her ears as she screamed loudly to drown out his voice. "Bloody hell, how can you think of taking her to our home? Look at her! She's a mess. She can't function!"

"Don't you dare take that tone with me! You may have the title, but don't you dare think you are old enough to talk to me in this manner."

The mediwitch was now on the ground with his mother, trying to get a calming draught into her.

"We cannot take her," Neville repeated. "No. She stays here. I'm sorry, but it isn't going to happen."

"Well, it's not your choice," Augusta bit out, moving over to Alice. "It's my home and she is going to stay with me until the new ward is finished."

"It may be your home, but it is his choice," the younger woman broke in, bracing Alice under her arm and putting her back in the bed where she was immediately strapped back in. "He's her next of kin, isn't he?"

"I'm her next of kin," Augusta corrected.

"No, he is," the woman corrected nervously. "You're her son?" Neville nodded. "And recently you were made the patriarch?" Again Neville nodded. "In the eyes of the law that makes him her next of kin. I'm sorry Mrs. Longbottom, but you are not tied to this woman by blood. Mr. Longbottom here is, so when he was given the position of patriarch that means he was made her next of kin."

Neville shrank under his grandmother's harsh glare. He knew she was going to more than disapprove of his decision and he also knew that in her eyes he was not the son his parents deserved, but at the same time he didn't see taking his mother home as an option.

"I think it's best she stay here," Neville murmured, stepping away from the scene to leave the curtained room. "Please owl me what her new healer says."

Neville spent the rest of the visit sitting on an old armchair by his incapacitated father. He wished he could just leave, but he didn't want to deal with the hellfire his grandmother would bring upon him if he went that far. Saying he refused to allow his mother to come stay with them was one thing, leaving the hospital all together was another.

"You're a lot easier than mum," Neville declared under his breath to the man lying in front of him. "Much easier. If it was you, I would take you home. I don't mind changing you and all of that for a time. I don't know how gran doesn't see that Mum is dangerous."

Frank just laid there glass-eyed as he always did, but it didn't stop Neville from continuing.

"I wonder what you would have done. Gran will probably tell me in a little bit here. She will probably tell me all the way home that if you would never have left your wife to be kept that way, that you would have dealt with her on your own. Maybe you would have," Neville shrugged. "I think if it were Graces I would have. Maybe I am a bad son. I mean if I would have taken the risk for Graces why not take it for my own mother."

"Maybe it's because I actually know Graces," Neville wondered aloud. "I could still look at her and see who she was. I think that's what it is with Gran. She looks at you two and remembers who you were, so in her mind you're somewhere in there. I mean, this is all I've known about you. I love you, but I don't want to put myself or gran at risk. I know mum has never hurt gran, but she's really lost it lately it seems. I just don't want to take a risk."

"I love Graces, but if she were like mum I wouldn't let her near other people. I know Gran can handle herself, but—" Neville let his words trail off. "I'm just doing what I think is best. A mediwitch knows more than we would. She seems to think that this is what needs to be done for mum and I don't want to argue. Maybe this new healer will have better ideas."

"We're leaving."

Neville jumped as the curtains opened and his grandmother's looming figure came over him. Neville did his best not to look guilty and squeezed his father's hand silently in goodbye. He waited outside the curtains as his grandmother said her goodbyes and promises of a visit the next day. Neville knew his father didn't know or care, but his gran always seemed to feel that somewhere in him he did.

"Did you say goodbye to your mother?" she asked, walking out from the curtains and heading to the door.

"No. I don't want to upset her."

"It won't upset her. Go see her. She likes seeing you."

"She likes seeing me when I've sat quietly long enough for her to know I'm not going to hurt her," Neville sighed. "If I go in now she's just going to get upset. I don't want her more upset than she already is."

"She's your mother. You have not seen her in months and you aren't willing to go in there and just say goodbye?" Neville didn't answer, feeling as though he had already made his decision not to see his mother obvious. "I don't understand you." Augusta whispered. "I just don't understand you. She's your mother. Do you have any idea what she has been through? How much she has suffered in her life?"

"I know."

"No, I don't think you do," the older woman hissed. "If you truly had an idea of the amount of suffering that woman has been through you would do anything from saving her from even a moment's discomfort."

"Now, I realize you're not going to save her from ill treatment." Neville gritted his teeth to keep from lashing out at his gran's words, knowing it wouldn't do either of them any good. "But you can at least go in there and tell the woman who gave birth to you goodbye."

Neville blushed as the few people in the makeshift ward looked over at him and decided to put away his protests and went over to where his mother was, slamming the curtains behind him angrily as his gran watched him head over there with a great amount of satisfaction.

He could hear his mother breathing behind him in the bed. Her slow relaxed breaths were interrupted often with odd little whimpers of sounds, like she was trying to speak but her tongue was too heavy for her words. He hated seeing her potioned beyond consciousness. It made her seem even more weak and helpless then she already was, not to mention it made her unable to do anything.

After a few moments he forced himself to turn around and look at the helpless figure in the bed.

"Goodbye mum," Neville whispered, coming near and gently touching her cheek. "I promise things are going to be better in just a little bit. They really are. You're going to have your own room and a nicer bed, all kinds of things. There will be fish and windows for you to look out of. It's going to be so grand for you, mum. Just a few days of this, I promise, and-and after this I'll even tell them they are never to restrain you like this again. They'll have to just put you in your room or something." Neville knew his words were falling on deaf ears. His mother clearly had no idea what he was saying to her, he even doubted that she was awake. He was about to turn and leave when he noticed her hand thumping against the bit of her pocket she could reach in her robe. He moved his hand over hers until she stopped the movement, but as soon as he released her hand she grabbed hold of his and began knocking his fingers against the opening.

"Something in here?" he asked, reaching his fingers into her robe pocket and pausing as he felt the familiar ends of gum wrappers. His mother immediately released his hand once he had the small piece of paper and she drifted away into complete sleep. It was so stupid. Neville knew she probably didn't even realize what she was doing. She was so doped that she was in a dreamlike state, but the fact that she had remembered that this was the ending motions for them touched somewhere deep inside him and before he was able to stop himself he was sobbing against his mother's leg, letting her bed sheets soak up his tears.

He knew she didn't know him. She had no idea that he was her son, but a small part of her surely knew something about him. Somewhere in there she remembered she was fond of him. He really did love her. It was more than just that she was his mother, he loved her because she was what he had. When it was all too overwhelming he could at least see his mother, touch her if he waited long enough. It was something and maybe when it came down to it something was better than nothing.

Neville felt a gentle touch on the back of his head, before familiar fingers made their way down to his neck and he didn't even bother opening his eyes as he turned and buried his face in his grandmother's arms.

"I'm sorry," the older woman whispered. "You're a good boy, Neville. You are. I know you're doing what you think is right. I know that. It's okay that we disagree. I think we are going to have many more disagreements in the years to come." Neville held his breath to keep himself from making any kind of sobbing sounds. His throat felt so tight he could hardly breathe anyways. "It's just hard for me to think of her here like this," Augusta continued. "She was such an amazing woman and my Frank loved her so... He never would have wanted this for her. He always told me that if something happened to him I was to take care of his girl." Neville could hear his grandmother's faint smile at the memory. "I don't think he ever thought something like this could happen, that tying her to a bed would be the way to help her."

"Why didn't they go to the safe house?" Neville rasped, the old question escaping from his lips again.

"They were aurors. They were brave."

"No, it doesn't make sense," Neville sniffed. "Bravery like that is reckless and stupid. Why didn't they go? Even James Potter went to a safe house and he was an auror. Why didn't they go? Or at least have one of them stay with me?"

"They just didn't," his gran sighed. "They thought they were needed as aurors. So many of their colleagues had passed. The ministry was desperate for help. Not to mention they were already targets. They didn't want to put you in danger. If they were out in the field it meant they were keeping you away from harm. Frank and Alice were both convinced that they needed to stay away from you until the danger was gone. Harry was the target that's why the Potters stayed together. Neville, they were the targets. They wanted to keep you out of it all."

Neville hid his face in the palm of his hand as he continued to cry out his frustration. He now didn't know what was the right decision. In the end he went with the only thing that stopped him from feeling like he was going to vomit.

"I-I want to t-take her home."

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Neville now understood why family members were not always the best suited to make decisions in care. His mother huddled close to his gran under the older woman's coat, looking out every once in a while like she expected to be attacked at any moment. The healers and mediwitches had all tried to tell him he was making a mistake, but he had convinced himself that two wizards and a witch could handle the care of one woman for a few days. It wasn't like his mother had a wand. Yes, she may be able to harm herself and maybe get in a good scratch or kick here and there, but in the end they could easily overpower her.

"It's going to be okay," Augusta smiled, helping Alice with the small steps to the front door. "We can handle her for a few days."

Neville nodded, but still wasn't convinced. He made sure to open the door cautiously and not make any big movements or gestures like the healers had advised. His uncle stood from an armchair at seeing Neville walk in and Neville held out a hand so he wouldn't move any further. At first the older man just frowned curiously, but then at seeing Alice his eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

"Dear Gods, Augusta. What have you done?"

Before either Neville or his gran could answer a loud eep came from the kitchen.

"Alice!" Mable proclaimed, jumping up in the air excitedly and dropping dishes. Neville darted across the room as the house elf ran towards his mother and snatched the small creature up in his arms before any damage was done.

"Mable, no! You keep away from her!" Neville gritted, frightened of losing his hold on the tiny elf. "She's dangerous, Mable. You stay away."

"Alice isn't dangerous!" Mable protested, trying to push Neville away. "No, Master Neville is wrong. Alice would never hurt Mable."

"She's not right, Mable," Neville tried to explain. "She doesn't know who you are. She's not able to understand. Mable, I order you to keep away from her!"

Mable stopped her struggle and immediately burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry Mable," Neville comforted, standing up with the tiny elf. "It's for your own good though. You're not even able to defend yourself from her. I can't let you get hurt."

"A-alice w-would never hurt Mable!" the tiny elf wailed, spilling a river of tears on Neville's sweater.

"I just can't take that risk," Neville insisted, hugging her tightly. "Who would take care of all of us if something happened to you? We would be so lost without you Mable. We can't risk you getting hurt."

"Alice needs me too!"

Neville shut the door to the kitchen so the elf didn't see any more of his mother and sat down tiredly at the kitchen table still attempting to sooth the poor creature's tears as his gran herded his mother upstairs to the spare bedroom.

"I know she does," Neville sighed. "But she will hurt you Mable. She sometimes tries to hurt me and I'm her son. She even hurts herself." More unruly tears began coming as Neville did his best to explain what was happening. "If you want to help my mum maybe you could make her favorite dessert for tonight," Neville suggested. "I'm sure you remember it."

"If she doesn't I do," Uncle Algie proclaimed, coming into the kitchen and offering Neville and Mable a small smile. "I think we could all use something hot to drink," the older man suggested, putting the kettle on and giving Neville a meaningful look.

Neville let out a long deep breath and prepared himself for a very very long talk with his uncle.

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Neville collapsed into his bed at the end of the day and made a mental note to thank all the mediwitches and healers working with his mother profusely. Alice Longbottom was a difficult patient. Not one thing was done with ease. Even dinner was a battle.

Alice didn't want to allow one morsel of food in her mouth. His gran had to coax her into each bite and even then sometimes his mother would just let the food ooze out of her lips. Neville wondered if his gran got her patience for feeding someone in such a manner from him or if she was just naturally able to not get frustrated over such a task. He wished he could have helped her, but when he got up just to help wipe her mouth his mother had tried to hide under the table. Neville found it was best to just sit quietly and allow his gran to be in control.

It wasn't all too bad. Neville and his Uncle stayed on the farthest end of the table from his mother and that seemed to make Alice more at ease. At the end of dinner while they had some dessert that Mable made in honor of Alice's visit, they fell into their usual dinner conversations. Though it was made unusual by Alice's constant touching of his gran's lips as she talked, Neville ended up in a fit of laughter as she put her finger in his gran's mouth and then started silently mimicking the older woman's reactions.

It wasn't usual for him to laugh in front of his mother and for some reason the action resonated with her. Neville had sat up from his chair where he had been bent over with glee to find that his mother had made her way over next to him. At first it had scared him to have her so close, but once he realized no harm was coming he had just laughed nervously and let her go through her usual routine of examining him.

He was starting to feel better about his decision. No big episodes had happened. His mother was a lot of work, but they were careful not to let any major surprises happen and that kept her from getting too upset. The new environment didn't seem to be affecting her too much. She was definitely over stimulated, that was made pretty obvious by how skittish she was, but without other patients around and in a quieter environment she wasn't too bad off.

Neville could hear his gran setting his mother up to sleep in the other room and listened intently to make sure nothing was going wrong. Gran was a pretty powerful witch, he was sure she could handle herself, but he still felt the need to make sure. It was during this that he realized there was a letter on his nightstand. He instantly grabbed it knowing exactly who it was from.

_Neville,_

_Thank you again for today. I rather enjoyed myself. It seemed you enjoyed yourself as well. Or would it be more appropriate for me to say I enjoyed you and I hope you enjoyed me the same?_

Neville let out a small laugh at Graces' humor and was glad no one was around to see him reading it because he was sure he was bright red.

_Anyways, I miss you already. I hope your holiday is going well, and I also hope you're thinking of me. I'm thinking of you._

Neville smiled at the ending sentence. Graces was thinking of him. He wondered what her thoughts were, if she was thinking of him right now. He looked over at the time and imagined what kind of things she would be thinking about this late at night concerning him and grinned. His grin was quickly wiped off though when his gran knocked on his bedroom door.

"Come in," Neville called, sitting up and tucking Graces' letter under his pillow.

"Just wanted to say good night," his gran smiled, cautiously closing the door behind her so not to disturb Alice in the next room. Neville smiled tightly and nodded his head. Knowing she wanted to say more than just good night. "Are you doing okay? With all of this?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You know if you need to talk to me about your parents you can," his gran informed, her eyes watching him intensely.

Neville nodded, but never planned on saying a word about his thoughts on his parents. As far as he was concerned that subject was closed. He could tell his gran wanted to talk with him about them, that the bitterness she had heard earlier had been shocking, but he also knew that if he talked to her about them she would just dismiss his feelings and end up informing him that he didn't feel that way at all, that he was just confused and upset.

"So...I take it you accepting this apprenticeship means you won't be becoming an auror," Augusta continued changing the subject.

"Uh, yeah," Neville muttered. "I never really wanted to be an auror. I really like the idea of teaching herbology."

"And you think you will be a good teacher?"

Neville shrugged and mentioned he was fairly decent at tutoring, so he assumed he would be be good.

"Are you disappointed?" Neville asked shyly, suddenly feeling very small.

"Just surprised."

Neville raised an eyebrow at that. He didn't think his choice was surprising at all, but then again his gran did have these odd ideas about him.

"Well, I'll let you get some sleep then," his gran dismissed, rising from the bed slowly. "You sleep well, Nev."

"Night, gran."

Neville moved to lay down and was caught off guard when his gran kissed his forehead like she used to do when he was little. He stilled as the older woman moved away and found himself less awkward then he thought he would to be having his gran tuck him in.

"Try not to wake your Uncle in the morning," the older woman reminded, walking away. Neville nodded and laid down in bed. He drifted to sleep thinking about how odd it was to be sleeping under the same roof with his mother and with Graces Malfoy's letter under his pillow.

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_Thunk, thunk, thunk._

_Thunk, thunk, thunk._

Neville woke blurry eyed from the soft thudding sound coming from against his wall. He closed his eyes again and tried to will himself back to sleep, but the sound continued on.

_Thunk, thunk, thunk._

_Thunk, thunk, thunk._

"Mum," Neville whispered, opening his eyes again and realizing what was happening. He stood up from the bed and walked over to the wall where his mother was making the rhythmic sounds. It wasn't violent, he doubted anyone else heard her, but considering they were sharing a wall he was unable to escape the noise. He cautiously picked up his wand and walked out into the hall.

He reached out to open the door and found that it had been locked. Neville cursed at the discovery, but took out his wand anyways. He knew his gran wouldn't approve, she didn't like him using magic outside of Hogwarts because he was still technically underage, but he knew how the trace worked. Since there was a witch and wizard in the house already the Ministry wouldn't be able to decipher that it was he who did the spell. He undid the lock and moved into the dark room.

He at first didn't see where his mother was. The only thing that gave him any indication of where she was was the thumping he heard against the wall. He tip toed over to where he heard the sound and found his mother sitting with her legs crossed on the floor, holding her arms around her as she rocked back and forth till her forehead hit the wall. Neville cautiously sat down beside her as she continued on like he wasn't there.

She looked as though she were falling asleep. Her mouth was open and her eyes were barely visible under her lids.

"Mum," he whispered, gently placing a hand on her forehead so that the blow of the hard wall was cushioned. His mother didn't respond to his touch and just continued in her rocking. Neville could feel his hand beginning to bruise from the hits to the wall and wondered what the best way of moving her was going to be. "Come on, mum, let's get you to bed."

Alice didn't struggle when he quietly pulled her up from the ground. Neville wondered if his gran had potioned her before putting her to bed, she seemed exceptionally absent from her movements. Like she was sleep walking.

"There we go," Neville encouraged, a bit surprised by how easy this was. Neville had just gotten her to the side of her bed and was holding her close to his chest as he leaned her down onto her pillow when he realized that this was the first time he could remember holding his mother. He stilled at the realization. He had wanted this for as long as he could remember. It was silly, but he felt like he was four years old sitting on his hands at the other end of the room waiting for his mother to come up to him. He always imagined one day that she would let him hold her close and he could smell her hair and she would be his mother and here he was holding her close and he could smell her hair and she was -even if she didn't know it- his mother. She may not act like it or fit the description of a mother, but she had given him life and he was currently cradling her against his chest and not fearing her causing him physical harm.

He felt stupid for enjoying the moment and not being able to put her down to sleep. He felt even more idiotic when he pulled her in closer and hugged her tightly. In the back of his mind Neville wondered why it was he still wanted this. Even knowing that his mother wasn't hugging him back and she didn't really know what was happening he still felt himself wanting to continue holding her.

Eventually he let her go and tucked her into bed. Nothing was different. She was still the same, there was no miracle that occurred, but he at least got to hold her for once in his life. He knew it wasn't going to happen again, but it had happened. He turned to leave, but no sooner had he turned his back he heard her sit up in the bed to go back to the wall.

"No," he said softly, pushing her gently back down. "No. Just stay."

Neville soon realized that his mother wasn't going to stay in the bed if he left and let out a long breath as he decided to take a seat by the bed and sleep there for the night. It seemed to work, he watched his mother lay in bed for an hour before he himself allowed his eyes to close.

Neville woke in a cold sweat, his heart slamming wildly in his chest. He thought a dark figure passed over him. Some... creature from the shadows.

_It was a dream,_ Neville thought. _Just a dream._

He quickly looked over to make sure he didn't wake his mother and his blood went cold when he realized she wasn't there.

"Nononono. No!" His wand was gone. He patted his chest and the pockets of his robes looking for it, but he knew it was gone. That it was taken. He stared at the open door to the hall and swallowed the fear that was coming up from his stomach. He could hear her now. Hear her muttering, her pacing, her hands slamming against her head.

He cautiously drifted out into the hall, adrenaline pumping through his veins like he was back at the ministry. What ever his gran had given her had worn off. Alice was breathing heavily, her eyes shifted wildly as though she expected someone to leap out and attack her at any moment and the worst part of all this was she was wielding his wand out in front of her.

Neville didn't know how much damage she was capable of, but the sparks flying out of his wand told him she was capable of some. He inched closer to her, just wanting to get his wand out of her hands before she realized he was there. He was now right behind her and was about to reach for her elbow when she whipped around behind him. It all happened so fast, Neville didn't even know what his mother did, but his arm stung and blood was dripping down his hand.

Neville stumbled a few steps back in shock and stared at the woman before him. Alice still held his wand out to him and there was something even more crazed behind her eyes. He held up his hands in surrender, hoping that she would at least be able to see he was unarmed. He wondered if she could even contemplate what was happening.

He could see the lights turning on behind the door beside him and knew his uncle had heard some of the commotion. Alice noticed the light as well and while she still held his wand out to him her teeth were bared at the door. Neville saw the knob turn and instantly reached out to prevent his uncle from opening the door.

"Neville? Neville is that you? I heard—"

"Mum, has my wand," Neville interrupted. The other side of the door was silent as the full weight of the situation became recognized. "She has it and-and she can use it. If you come out now it's going to scare her."

"You don't have a wand!"

"Just-just stay! If you come out now I-I think she will really hurt me. It will scare her."

A low growl was coming from Alice and Neville slowly let go of the door handle and moved away. He saw his gran's light turn on from the end of the hall and was thankful his mother was looking forward only at him and not behind. Augusta Longbottom opened the door and stared at the scene from her doorway.

"Mum," Neville whispered, holding out his hand cautiously. "Mum, please give me my wand."

Neville put his hand down as Alice began screaming and waving his wand about frantically. He flinched every time the end pointed at him and cursed himself for letting her corner him. Broken glass rain down on him as pictures from the wall began to break and his mother continued to slam her arms against anything she could find screaming like a banshee all the while.

"Expelliarmus!" Augusta bellowed, her wand pointed directly at Alice's hands. Neville watched as the wand tugged from her grip, but somehow his mother was able to keep the piece of cherry wood from flying out of her hand.

Alice turned in the direction of the spell and raised her wand, but before anything more could happen Neville lunged at her from behind. He toppled on top of his mother creating a mess of limbs and screams, grabbing blindly for the familiar piece of wood as Alice bit and clawed any piece of open skin he had and banged her head savagely on the wooden floor. Neville finally grabbed hold of his wand and yanked back freeing it from her grasp and also causing a sickening pop from her arm.

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"Sorry to keep you waiting," the healer apologized, stepping into her office to greet the family. "I was just finishing with a patient. Things have been a bit intense since my arrival." The woman paused as she took a seat and stared at the disheveled family before her and offered a sad smile. "Though, it appears not as tense as it has been for you all."

The young boy to her left shifted uncomfortably, but didn't comment on anything she had said.

"I'm sure you've all been told, but I will now be the healer taking over Alice and Frank's care. My name is Adeline Devroot."

"Is Alice okay?" the older woman asked sternly, her lips pursed tightly as though she were trying to be patient and coming very near to failing.

"Alice is perfectly fine. Her shoulder was dislocated and she had some minor cuts and bruises, but she's well."

This seemed to be enough to satisfy the woman before her and Mrs. Longbottom nodded curtly and leaned back in her chair awaiting to hear more.

"So, I take it you are Augusta—" the healer smiled, opening the file in front of her and skimming the family portion, "—and you are Neville."

The sandy-haired boy looked up at her for a brief moment and nodded, before staring back down at the floor.

"Neville, have you been examined for injury?"

"Yes, all fine now."

"I was told she sliced your arm open?"

"Yes."

"Did she do anything else? Any other spells?"

"No." Neville paused for a moment, before he looked up at her and opened his mouth as though trying to decide to say something.

"Go on," the dark woman encouraged.

"She... well, it wasn't a spell, but she prevented my gran from disarming her." The healer nodded and made a few notes in Alice's file. "And my gran is, well, she's pretty powerful and she couldn't disarm her."

Adeline nodded and made a few other notes before requesting to hear what Alice's whole stay had been like. She listened intently as Augusta went through everything that had happened prior to the attack, making a few more notes here and there as she saw fit before asking Neville to detail what had happened during the event. Neville seemed a bit more reluctant to discuss it all and the healer noted that there appeared to be a great amount of guilt on his part.

"I didn't mean to hurt her arm," Neville finished softly. "I didn't want to hurt her at all, but... I just reacted."

"In light of the situation you couldn't have done much else," the healer pointed out. "These things happen. It's why it's so important that you allow us to care for Alice. I understand that at times it may appear how we handle her is harsh, but in the end it's for the best."

"Things were going fine before though," Mrs. Longbottom snapped. "She was doing well. If my grandson had left her locked in the room, or just asked me to spell the wall with padding then—"

"Your grandson responded in a way that a normal person would have," the healer interrupted. "He has no medical training. He went in and prevented her from harming herself and then stayed with her to watch over her. This is not a situation that anyone should ever be in, that's why we have facilities. There is no way for you or him to be able to prepare for one of Alice's episodes, because you are not medically trained to think about all the scenarios that can occur."

"I should never have taken her," Neville whispered more to himself than to anyone in particular.

"That was a mistake," the healer said sternly, "But no one can blame you for wanting to give her comfort. Alice does not respond well to change and the way she was subdued before was the best that the ward could do considering there was only one doctor and one mediwitch on staff. I can promise you now that it's going to be very different. Some of the staff for the new ward has arrived today, myself included, and the new ward will be open in just a few short days. I've had a small tour while they were working on it this morning and I have to say it's very luxurious."

"How was she able to hold on to that wand when I tried to disarm her?" Augusta asked, clearly having no interest in anything she had just said. "She should have been disarmed."

"She used to be an auror," the healer shrugged. "I'm sure she was trained in how not to lose her wand."

"So she remembers?" Augusta asked hopefully.

Adeline looked at the two of them for a moment and felt her heart drop slightly. Augusta looked as though she were about to hear the best news and Neville looked as though he were too scared to even hope. It was there though she saw a very slight glimmer of it in his eyes and she hated that she was going to be the one to completely snuff it out.

"No. Muscle memory. She reacted as she was trained to, but she's not there to remember the way you and I do."

"But she knew things," Augusta persisted. "She used the wand, she—"

"She's not there."

"How do you know!" Augusta exclaimed, banging her came on the ground as though she were stomping her foot. "You just dismiss her completely! She must have some memory. She's never frightened of me, she's fond of her son and she stole a wand, used it and put up a damn good fight before she was disarmed. Maybe it's possible she's in there, just buried deep."

The healer folded her hands in front of her patiently, before taking out two porcelain tea cups from her desk drawer.

"I want us to all be on the same page," she said slowly. "I want you both to understand Alice and Frank's condition, so that you understand their treatments better."

"I understand their condition," Augusta snapped. "I've talked to dozens of healers that come in and out of this place and worked with hundreds of mediwitches. I know their condition."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you do," the healer said sadly. "Because if you understood you would not think that there was any chance of Alice's condition improving." There was a long silence at her words and Neville's eyes were now solidly on her. "When someone undergoes the Cruciatus curse there is a great amount of pain. It supposedly feels like—"

"We know first hand what it feels like," Augusta interrupted. "I've never been one to turn away from war and my grandson isn't one to either."

"Neville, you're sixteen?" the healer asked, feeling a bit sick at the thought of this young man undergoing what she knew grown men to break from. Neville nodded, but didn't offer any explanations. "May I ask when and who—"

"Surely you read the paper," Augusta scoffed, her hand on her grandson's shoulder proudly. "My grandson went with Harry Potter to the Ministry at the end of his school term last year. He fought alongside him."

"I see," the healer whispered, taking a moment to gather her thoughts.

"He's in Gryffindor," Augusta continued. "Brave of heart, just like his father."

"He must be."

"What happens to the mind?" Neville asked, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. "What happened to their minds?"

The healer nodded and took a deep breath,

"The mind is amazing, it does it's best to protect us from harm and when one is being tortured the mind will usually turn inward, take you somewhere far away from what is happening to your body. It does it's best to detach, but unfortunately it can only do so much." The healer picked up both tea cups and flung them down to the floor so they were in pieces. "Now, one flick of my wand and they have been repaired." She repaired the tea cups and handed them to Neville and his gran to examine. "But watch what happens after repeated damage."

Healer Devroot spelled each cup to slam against the wall and repair itself immediately after.

"As you can see the cups are being continuously broken and repaired. Alice and Frank were both brutally tortured by multiple Death Eaters for hours." She flicked her wand and the cups began breaking against the wall faster and faster, barely giving them time to repair before they were being broken again. "From what I read of the trial transcripts, Alice turned inward. She screamed and withered in pain, but she was focused on riding it, on being somewhere else in her mind. It didn't save her the pain, but it wasn't the main focus. Frank—" she pointed to the cup and had Frank's cup accelerate in it's breaking "—he stayed. He screamed for Alice, according to the record. This leads me to believe that he never turned inward. He didn't hide in some better part of his mind."

Frank's cup was no longer even repairing itself, shards were breaking into smaller shards and dust was falling from the rubble.

"Hours of torture with no purpose. It's hard to imagine what that would be like. To be hurt and know that the only reason you were being hurt was because the person over you wanted you to feel pain. It's a hopeless situation. If they were holding on to information they could have at least clung to the idea that the pain was serving a purpose, but they had no information and the Death Eaters torturing them realized that too. They just wanted to hurt them." Adeline stopped the cups from breaking and brought the shards over to them. She spelled Alice's cup back together first and put it in front of the family to look at.

"This is Alice," she explained gently, allowing them to note the cracks and small shards that were missing. "This is the best she can be put together." Adeline poured some water from her wand into the cup and let the water seep out. "Just like this cup cannot function well, neither can Alice. The damage is irreversible." The cup fell to its side, not able to stand up long on its own with a shard missing from the bottom and the healer moved to sit it back up again. "As you can see the cup is also very fragile. If I pick it up as so, the handle breaks off. We've seen this a lot with Alice. One thing out of the ordinary, one loud noise and she's in an episode. Now we can repair those small cracks, put the piece back, but there will always be some falling apart."

Neville leaned forward and took the sad little cup from her hands and examined it thoughtfully. She was glad that the young man didn't appear devastated by the news that his mother would never be well. He seemed resigned to it, like something he had thought for a long while was finally being confirmed. He touched the cup tenderly one last time before setting it back on the desk.

"I wish to chemically control Alice's state," she continued. "I want to put her on some anti-anxiety medications that muggles use and also on a few mood stabilizers. I think the combination of these will make her much easier to handle. She won't be scared all the time."

"She won't be anything," Augusta argued. "She'll be in a constant state of sleep if you drug her like that. She'll be the walking dead."

"No, Mrs. Longbottom, I can assure you she won't be that bad off. Yes, she will be a bit emotionless, but it will not be as horrible as you are thinking. Now, for the first month I am going to have her heavily sedated. I don't want the change being too difficult. After a month I will wean her off of them and just have her on what I think she needs to be comfortable."

"Are there many side effects?" Augusta asked tightly, clearly letting go of the reins.

"All are manageable, Mrs. Longbottom. I swear. My father-in-law is a muggle physician and he's who turned me on to muggle medications for the mentally ill. These are fairly new techniques in our world, but they are not new in the muggle world. If Alice doesn't respond well to one medication we can start her on others until we find what works."

There was a long silence as the two of them took in what she was saying, but she was happy that no one was disagreeing. She knew a lot of other pureblood families would not only disagree, but try to get her fired over what she had suggested.

"And my father?" Neville asked quietly.

She turned her wand to the last tea cup and whispered the mending charm. The bits of pieces left tried to form a cup, but immediately collapsed. There were too many tiny bits missing to allow it to hold itself together.

"Frank is being kept alive because we function for him," she whispered, taking her wand and levitating all the pieces up and doing her best to make a cup. Pieces of the cup floated along with other pieces, but none really touched together like a puzzle. "We mechanically hold him together. We feed him, wash him, take him to the loo, levitate him here and there and try our best to exercise his muscles, but in the end we just are taking care of a body. There really isn't a life, we just refuse to let nature take its course."

The healer looked away tactfully as Augusta stifled a sob. She heard Neville stand from his seat to comfort his grandmother, but remained silent herself. It was never going to be an easy thing for someone to hear, this was a mother's worst nightmare and the woman in front of her had suffered through almost two decades of it.

"I see it was suggested at the beginning of Frank's treatment to stop any life saving measures and I wanted to know if this is something you would like to revisit."

"I will not kill my son," the older woman gritted, looking up angrily from her grandson's arms.

"It is not killing him, Mrs. Longbottom, it's allowing him to die."

"By starving him!"

The healer nodded and closed the files on her desk.

"It is your decision. If that is how you feel then I will of course respect your decision to keep him alive." She decided to not give that option to Neville. She had been made aware that he was technically the next of kin, but she refused to ask a teenage boy to decide if his father should live. Neville was apparently aware that he had the power to make medical decisions concerning his parents and if he wanted to discuss this with her she was sure he would ask to, but she was hoping he wouldn't. Better to let his gran decide then him.

"Do you have any other questions?" she asked evenly, hoping she hadn't upset anyone too much.

"No, thank you," Neville nodded, not seeming to be too affected by the news. "Just a moment to gather ourselves if you don't mind."

"Of course." She slowly stood up from where she was seated and shook Neville and his grandmother's hands, before telling them to take their time and leaving them alone. In a way she was glad that they had taken Alice for the night. She doubted that they had ever witnessed just how dangerous she could be. Alice, though mad, had been an auror, a fierce one at that. She had fought in a wizarding war and she had been unraveled in the most heinous of ways. That kind of training and strength buried in such a mind was nothing to discount. While she felt sorry that they had experienced such a terrible night with her, she was convinced that the next time any force was used on Alice they would better understand the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back when I wrote this chapter it meant a lot to me writing it. My grandmother was a paranoid schizophrenic and there is a lot that goes into loving someone who is mentally ill at a young age. For the most part my grandmother was really amazing, but a lot of time and effort went into that. Lots of medicine and lots of extra care from my grandfather. I think Neville has always been one of my favorite characters because I myself am kind of an anxious individual and because that scene where the trio walked into the ward and saw him with his mom really spoke to me. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) If you did let me know.


	67. Chapter 67

Draco chewed his food with distinct purpose. He wanted to shove every morsel he could find into his mouth as though he were Ron Weasley, but he held himself back and ate with the manners his mother and father had drilled into him since birth, though he certainly was eating a lot.

"Having another plate?" Graces asked in disbelief.

"I am," Draco declared, awaiting to hear his sister make some comment about his eating habits this morning.

"Good," she smiled softly, looking down on her plate contently. "I'm glad you're taking care of yourself."

Draco let out a small laugh and continued to tuck in. It was easy to take care of himself when his every move wasn't being observed by someone who wanted to hurt him. Nott leaving for holiday was the best thing that had happened to him in months. Graham was now in charge of reporting his every move and the older boy had insisted that he use this time to get some rest and put some meat back on his bones. He still worked on his task, but not the way he had been before. Then again with Graham helping he didn't have a sick feeling in his stomach when he went a few hours without tinkering with it.

"Do you want to play Quidditch today?" Graces asked hopefully. "It was just so much fun yesterday and I was thinking that—"

"Sounds great," Draco nodded, between bites. "I want to get some work done this afternoon, but we could play a game after breakfast."

Graces smiled brilliantly at the prospect and Draco held back the urge to move from where he was sitting and scoop her up tightly. He really wanted to repair this distance between them. He hated not being familiar with one another and Graham had mentioned that he should take this time to enjoy spending time with her. Draco wondered if he told him that because he suspected that he would be killed in just a few months, a create happy memories for her to hold onto kind of thing.

"Graham!" Graces called excitedly. Draco looked over at the other boy and could tell that Graham really didn't want to be noticed. It seemed like he was just trying to grab something to eat, so he could go off and be alone. "Would you want to play a game of Quidditch after breakfast with us? Nothing fancy and obviously not a full player game."

"Uh, no, but thank you," Graham murmured gruffly, his eyes darting away from Draco.

"Oh, okay." Draco could tell his sister was a bit deflated by Graham's response, and the other boy could tell too. Graham blushed slightly and promised to see her later before hurrying out of the Great Hall. Graces frowned and looked over at Draco. "What's going on with you and Graham?" she asked, her tone close to being accusing. "I thought he was helping you. Why does he not want to be in the same room with you? He was like this yesterday as well."

Draco finished the sausage he was chewing and took a long sip of tea, before he responded.

"Graham and I slept together the other night," he admitted casually, enjoying the way Graces' mouth dropped open. "I've written the whole thing off as just a night of weakness. He was upset; I was upset and it just happened, but he's not taking it so well. So now he's just avoiding me."

Draco took another sip of tea to hide his grin as his sister looked close to hyperventilating. She had yet to close her mouth and her eyes darted around her as though she were reading a book that could make sense of all this.

"Y-you slept with Graham," she repeated.

"I did, and I must say if you do choose to marry him you will be a very happy girl."

"Do you have a problem with me sleeping with Graham?" Draco asked, when Graces let out some noise of disgust.

"No! Of course not!" Graces exclaimed. "Not if that's what you want," she murmured uncomfortably. "I just don't like the suggestion of sleeping with someone you have. It's weird and-and far too gross."

"We always were good at sharing," Draco shrugged. Draco decided to relieve his sister of her discomfort after his last comment made her turn green. "I'm just toying with you," Draco laughed. "I didn't sleep with Graham. I can't believe you fell for that," he added, enjoying the glare his sister was giving him.

"Then why is he acting all strange around you," Graces snapped.

"Because he cried in front of me," Draco admitted. Knowing that Graham probably didn't want him speaking about this, but deciding Graces didn't count. "Well, not exactly in front of me, more on me. He's having a bit of a rough time right now."

"Graham cried in front of you," Graces repeated skeptically. "Graham. Graham Montague."

"No one is made of stone, Graces," Draco pointed out irritatedly. "He's going through a lot and it can't be easy right now especially," he added, thinking of the way Graham cried for his sister.

"I know, but- but Graham isn't one to show his feelings really."

Draco shrugged and suddenly didn't feel like eating the rest of the food on his plate.

"She was his sister," he said quietly. "I think that kind of loss is harder to keep in."

"So... what did he say?"

"He mostly just cried," Draco lied. Not wanting to give too much detail of the things Graham had told him in private. "I think he just needed a good cry."

"I can understand that," Graces said softly, clearly remembering some times of her own she needed to cry. Draco bit the inside of his cheek and wished he could be her shoulder like he had been Graham's.

"He's a good guy," Draco finished quietly, hoping his sister could see that. "You should try and spend some time with him during the break."

"I will."

Draco decided that it was best for him to not say anything more about this subject. He didn't want the rift between them growing any greater and he had a feeling if he pushed Graham on her she would push him away. She agreed to spend time with him, though he could tell by the way agreed she wasn't planning on getting to know him the way Draco would like, but it was still better than nothing.

"Come on, let's go play some quidditch," he grinned, standing up from his seat and smiling wide as Graces jumped up to join him. "And I think today it would be a better game if we just play with the snitch."

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Graces collapsed on the pitch and ignored her brother's taunting as he continued showing her the snitch in his hand. She made a few rude gestures with her hands that Draco didn't take seriously considering she was laughing while making them.

"I don't practice with the snitch much," she pouted. "You had an unfair advantage."

"Please, you never were good at getting the snitch," Draco scoffed.

"Yeah, well you're not good at defending the goals... too afraid of getting hit."

"I'm not afraid of getting hit!"

"Yes, you are," Graces grinned, closing her eyes. "You hesitate."

"I'm sorry, how many cracked ribs, concussions, and sprained arms have you suffered from?"

Graces waved a hand dismissively, but Draco did have a point. He always was better about keeping them safe.

She felt Draco lay down next to her and moved closer to him so that they were laying side by side.

"I missed you," she whispered.

"I missed you too."

"Will it be like this after the break?"

"Probably not," Draco sighed. "Nott will be back. Right now Graham is allowing me time. He's not going to tell our Lord I've been idle. Nott will. It won't be as bad as before though. I'll be able to sleep and make meals. Graham is going to continue helping me."

"Good," Graces hummed, closing her eyes and moving her head so it was on Draco's chest.

"Yeah... he's a good guy," Draco murmured distantly.

"So you've said today."

"I just hope you really realize it."

"I do."

"You know Graham also—"

"Draco," Graces interrupted. "Don't ruin this moment."

"I just think—"

"I know what you think; you don't need to tell me."

Draco didn't say anything else, but Graces knew the moment was already over. Her brother wasn't relaxing and enjoying his time with her. He was wondering how he could get her to marry Graham.

"I have the portkeys to the safe house. It's all ready. We could leave tonight."

"What?"

Graces sighed before repeating herself.

"And you didn't want me to ruin the moment," Draco huffed, sitting up and pushing her off him unceremoniously.

"Do you want to see it?"

"No."

Graces bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming.

"And why not?" she asked simply.

"Because I refuse to be a part of your little fantasy," Draco hissed, standing from the ground completely and pacing before her.

"It's not a fantasy!" Graces cried, getting to her feet as well. "It's real! It's a real house! Everything is there. Food, beds, charms to protect us, everything!"

"Stop it. Just stop it!"

"No! No! Listen to me!" Graces begged, grabbing her brother and turning him to face her. "We can be gone in a matter of minutes! We can go to the castle get Thomas and Octavian and portkey to the Higgs mansion for the squib. From there we can get to the safe house with the portkeys to there and—"

"What about mum?" Draco asked coldly, his body trembling with rage. "What about our mother. Or did you forget about her?"

"I didn't forget," Graces murmured. "We would get her out."

"No, no we wouldn't. The moment they realized we left she would be killed. No, wait not killed," Draco laughed darkly. "Tortured, because they would think she knew where we were. There is no way we could get her out of Malfoy Manor. No way. It's crawling with Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself is there. We would leave her to be tortured and killed."

"You have the portkeys to the manor," Graces continued, thinking of how easy it would be to slip into the manor grab their mother and portkey out. "We could—"

"You know we couldn't," Draco whispered. "You know we couldn't. There is no way to get her out. There would be no way to save her. Mother is under watch and guard all hours of the day. She's a prisoner there. They are watching her in case we did something stupid like what you are suggesting."

Graces bit down on her teeth to keep her jaw from trembling. She had not forgotten about their mother. She just didn't realize it was as impossible as Draco was saying until now.

"We could owl her the portkey with a letter and—"

"You don't think they are intercepting her letters?"

"We can't just stay, Draco. We have a chance to live."

"We have a chance to live if we stay. A chance that saves our mother and father as well. Or do you no longer care if they live."

"Of course I care!" Graces screamed, not able to stop the tears. "I just... I just—"

"You're not thinking clearly, Graces," Draco growled. "You're not understanding. I'm so tired of this. So tired of trying to get you to understand that running away isn't an option. You're like a child. You fixate on an idea and there is no way to get you to look at the other ones! You want to live? You want Thomas and Octavian to be guaranteed safety? Marry Graham!"

"I want you to live! I want you and mum to live!"

"You can't have it all, Graces! You can't! My life and mother's life are dependent on my success."

"But if we thought about it we could maybe think of a way to get her to the safe house and then-"

"I AM NOT GOING TO YOUR DAMN SAFE HOUSE!" Draco roared. "FORGET IT! I WILL NEVER LEAVE FOR THIS SAFE HOUSE."

"But if—"

"Are you seriously this dense?" Draco asked, rounding on her. "Are you this obtuse? I am not going to your damn safe house, Graces. Not now, not ever. I would rather die. If the point comes and I fail I am going to let the Dark Lord kill me. I will not let my mother die alone by the hands of that maniac. So you have one option, marry Graham. And if you don't care enough about your own life then marry him for Thomas and Octavian."

Graces glared at her brother, but said nothing. He didn't mean it. He couldn't possibly mean it. He was just angry. That was all. Draco did this when he was angry. Said things he didn't mean, things that would cut and cut deeply. She refused to believe he meant it. He was just angry.

"This is your portkey and the address to the safe house," Graces clipped, handing him the iron key Neville gave her. "Just say 'safe house' and you will be there. When you've cooled off some I think it would be a good idea for you to take a look. Let me know when you've come to your senses."

Graces picked up her gear and headed to the castle, ignoring her brother when he screamed he was going to throw it all in the lake. She knew he wouldn't, or at least convinced herself he wouldn't. She took one step at a time and tried to drown the frustration welling up inside of her. It was growing so fierce she knew if she fed it, it would just turn to rage and rage was the last thing she could afford to feel towards her brother right now. She wanted things better, rage would prevent things from being what they were, so she walked away and buried her feelings.

When Graces returned to her room to shower a letter was laid neatly on her pillow.

"About damn time!" she exclaimed, throwing some of her heavier Quidditch gear on the floor and whisking the envelope up, thankful for the distraction. She needed something to get her mind off Draco and Neville was the perfect thing for that.

_Graces,_

_I'm so sorry this letter is late. Things have been a bit busy since I arrived home and I haven't truly had a moment to myself. I'll be much more attentive from here on though, I promise._

_I hope you're enjoying your holiday. Mine so far has been very quiet._

Graces frowned. Busy in one sentence quiet in another. She bit her lip thinking of what that could mean before continuing to read.

_My Uncle Algie is here, you would like him I think. He's a character for sure. He's my grandfather's brother, so he has the Longbottom humor. Have I ever told you anything about my grandfather? I don't think I have, except that he died before I came to Hogwarts. He was a really great man, very different from my grandmother, but I always felt they balanced one another out. One time, as a practical joke, he hid a fanged gerbil in my grandmother's handbag. My grandmother still keeps a mouse trap in her bag because of it._

_Anyways, Uncle Algie's very much the same as him. I have more of my gran's sense of humor, very dry, as you can probably guess considering I am not putting any kind of small animals in your handbag._

Graces laughed at the image, but disagreed that Neville didn't possess much of his grandfather's humor. His was dry for sure, but there were many times when he had been playful and a handful where he had joked with her in much the same manner.

_I think you can live with my humor though. You don't strike me as the type to find a rodent in your bag funny. Then again my gran doesn't strike me as that type either, but she loved my grandfather. Funny how things like that work, huh?_

_I miss you. I hope you know exactly how much I miss you, because I really don't have the words to describe it. Even after seeing you again I still find myself longing for you to be near. I don't know if you realize this, nor do I know if you want to hear such things from me, but I'm going to tell you anyways. You've truly enchanted me, Graces Malfoy. I can't go a single minute really without thinking of you. I find myself feeling home sick when I'm already home, and when I lie in bed at night I close my eyes and wish you were beside me once again._

_I'm probably coming on a bit too strong with my feelings for you, but I really don't care. I want you to know. I don't just want to prattle on about my day to you and not put anything meaningful into these letters. Which I just realized you probably burn._

Graces snorted a laugh and noted that that's what she should probably do.

_Well, I don't really mind if you do burn them, so long as you know._

~~_Sincerely,_ ~~

~~_With deep affe_ ~~

_Yours,_

_Neville_

Graces smiled softly at the letter, but was unsure how she wanted to respond. She felt a bit unnerved at seeing Neville's feelings written out to her. She knew that this was the point they were at, but it still made her feel unsettled. She didn't want to turn back, but she wasn't sure how prepared she was to move forward. Forward is coming whether I am ready for it or not. So with that thought in mind she picked up her quill.

_Neville,_

_Your family sounds exceptionally interesting to say the least. I'm sorry to say I have no stories of rodents in handbags though. My father did once tell my mother that he had ordered the wrong napkins for a dinner party to test her nerves, but that was it. It was funny for a few moments, watching her angry silence before my father smirked and said she worried too much and gave her the letter confirming the order she wanted. Not quite the same hilarity, I'm afraid._

_Draco did play a joke on me today, if that's the word to use for it. I don't know if you would find it very funny though, I think it's one of those things where you had to be there. I would write to you about it, but it's not in very good taste either._

_As for my holiday it has been very nice. Draco is finally relaxing some what. He's eating, playing games, sleeping and he's napping too. I think he's napping more than Octavian at this point. Anytime we want to put Octavian down for a nap, Thomas goes looking for Draco and puts the tiny babe in his arms while Draco sleeps. That way he and I can go do something interesting around the castle._

_Did I tell you Thomas has chosen to stay here at the castle for Yule? It's wonderful. Octavian is here with us as well. We're having a really grand time all of us together. Graham is here too, but he's been a bit busy. He promised to join us tonight after dinner though._

_I received an owl the other day about the director of the ward just telling me how everything is running with the construction and things of that nature. The new healers that were hired have arrived along with the rest of the new staff. I just thought you would enjoy knowing all this, in case you wanted to go down and meet the new healers yourself._

_Regarding the more intimate aspect of your letter is it okay that I'm not quite as comfortable disclosing my own feelings?_

_I hope it is, because I don't feel quite at ease saying my feelings out loud in such away. And if I'm being totally honest your candor is a little unnerving. Flattering, but unnerving. It's odd. While part of me enjoys knowing those things about how you feel for me another part of me is frightened. Maybe I'm frightened because so much of what you said describes how I feel. I just don't want us to rush things. Gods, that sounds even sillier, doesn't it? I mean I've more than shared a bed with you. There is no denying what happened between us the last night in the castle. I suppose things are already a bit further than I'm comfortable with. I never thought I would have these feelings for you, Neville. It never was supposed to be like this._

_Please take solace in knowing my feelings for you are strong and that I am yours - happily so._

_Sincerely,_

_Graces_

_Also, if you don't mind please burn the letters I send to you._

Graces watched from the Owlery as a young barn owl soared into the night sky to where Neville was. She watched the owl fly until it disappeared and closed her eyes as the night air wafted against her warm cheeks. Somewhere out there in the night Neville was thinking of her and wanting her near. It warmed her chest in a way that frightened her and made her giddy at the same time. She turned away from the window and descended back into the dungeons, choosing to wait for Draco tonight rather than go to the room Neville had provided for her. She wanted things better between her and Draco and letting him come back to fume would not do.

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Narcissa knew she had made the right decision the moment she looked down at her daughter. She stared at the layer of sweat glistening like morning dew on the porcelain skin it beaded on. Graces turned sharply in her sleep and Narcissa sat down and watched as her breathing became more and more erratic. She studied every movement, every intake of breath, the way her eyes darted around behind her heavy lids, her nails as they dug into the throw laying on top of her and the soft whimpering that broke away from her mouth.

Regret had never plagued Narcissa Malfoy. Not once did she regret her decisions. She loved her husband. Even in hard times she loved him. She had loved him through his first trial and she loved him even after the last. She loved him because he, like her, thought only of their family. The world could burn to ash and he would smile so long as Draco, Graces and her were still happy and safe. All he had done he did for them, and though she didn't always agree with the paths he chose, like bowing before some half-breed, she knew he chose that path with the three of them in mind.

Not to say she didn't voice her disagreements. Like when he wanted to send Draco to Durmstrang, she had made her feelings about that choice known. She had raised all seven hells within the walls of their manor. And when her scorn had not changed his mind effectively she brought out her wand.

She remembered Lucius' face like it was yesterday. Shock, fear, betrayal, outrage all exploding behind those silver eyes. She had a moment to see the true fear, before he schooled the other feelings away and condescendingly asked if she really meant to harm him, her husband, her love and the father of her children. It was in many ways a painful memory, because in that moment she knew her love for Lucius was not unconditional. She could cease to love him. He could do a million horrors and she would still want to be in his arms, the nights he came home smelling of blood and death she had never turned away from him. She had embraced him and cried tears of joy that he was safe. When he failed her pride in him never faltered, but the moment he spoke of sending her son away she hated him. Hated him in a way she never knew she could feel. It had burned in her heart, raging for weeks, until finally it exploded and her wand was pointed at his heart.

Lucius realized it too and when he nodded and said Draco would not be sent away, she knew she had hurt him. Many people would believe that no one was capable of hurting Lucius Malfoy without actually casting a spell, but she knew she could. She did. She had reminded him that his love for her was still greater than her love for him. She didn't even realize he loved her more until that moment. For years she had believed their love was equal, that their school days where Lucius pined for her love were long over because she now answered his love, but Draco and Graces had changed that. She loved no one above her children.

She had days later approached Lucius in his study and tried to mend his hurt by saying he must feel the same, but it was all to clear he didn't. He had stared at her for awhile over his papers and elegant desk, before leaning back and explaining he loved her above anyone else in this world or the next.

"You have given me my children. You have nurtured my immortality and brought life into my world. You are the only one to see all of me and you are the only one I want to see all of me. You are my God, Narcissa, and I know better than to kneel before any other."

Lucius Malfoy still, even after so many years of marriage, still had the ability to surprise her. Sometimes she was torn on how she could love, miss and hate him at the same time. He did this to them. Her daughter was haunted and maimed because of his choices. He had always thought he would be the one to pay the highest cost, but it wasn't him. It wasn't even her. It was their children.

She reached out and touched Graces as she stirred in her sleep and choked back a sob as her daughter begged for mercy in her sleep. What they had done was unforgivable. She wished Lucius was there with her now. She knew he would have a plan, a better plan than hers, but he wasn't. And that feeling of anger towards him began rising up from her stomach.

"Graces. Graces, wake up. Wake up, my darling."

Narcissa jumped back as her daughter bolted up, as though she were preparing to arm herself. The older woman made sure to keep perfectly still until her daughter came to. Graces chest heaved as she continued to inhale deep intakes of breath. She looked as though she had just finished Quidditch practice. Narcissa wondered if her child ever truly rested.

"M-mum?" Graces breathed.

She looked as though she didn't quite believe she was there. Narcissa tried to reply, but closed her mouth unable to fight the lump growing in her throat. What had they done? What had her and Lucius done to their children?

Graces stood there staring wide-eyed at her, taking in her features as though she were searching for a clue to tell her if she were truly there.

"You're here," she murmured, standing on her knees and gingerly touching her cheek. "You're really here."

Narcissa wondered how her daughter could still look at her like this. With wonder and trust. She marveled in the innocence that still shined in her eyes. Mummy was here so now all will be better. The older woman swallowed hard and nodded her head.

"Go upstairs, grab only a heavy cloak and things precious to you. Do not pack a trunk and only take what you can fit into your pocket."

"Are we leaving?" Graces asked hopefully, her silver eyes awakening with new life. "Are we leaving?"

"Yes," Narcissa nodded, for the first time truly allowing herself to realize what she was doing. "We are. Now hurry we don't have all night."

Graces shot off the couch and bolted to her dorm room, leaving Narcissa in her old common room. She stared at the spot where her husband had proposed to her, oh so many years ago, and pushed the memory away as she walked over to where the 6th year boys' dorms room were. Draco wasn't anywhere to be seen. She now realized that Graces didn't fall asleep in the common room for no reason, she fell asleep waiting for Draco. A bolt of fear coursed through her veins, so sharp that she could feel it surge through her heart. She needed to find Draco. Find him before anyone knew what was happening.

She turned out of the room and rushed to where Graces was.

"Where's your brother?" she demanded, pulling her arm so hard that the papers she was holding fell out of her hands and floated down to the foor.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Narcissa shrieked, panic taking over. "How do you not know?"

"He refuses to tell me," Graces explained, her mother's panic passing over to her. "He won't tell me anything about where he goes and what he does there."

Narcissa turned away released her hold on her daughter and turned away. She needed to get a hold of herself. She couldn't let the fear get to her now. She made her decision, they were leaving and she needed to be calm and collected so that her children wouldn't be frightened of what was to come. She closed her eyes and thought about Lucius and how he would lead them. How he would react in this situation.

"Right," she nodded coolly, turning to her daughter. "I suppose we'll just have to wait."

"It won't be long," Graces promised, unsurely. "He-he shouldn't be long. Graham left here just a few hours ago, he's been helping Draco all winter break." Narcissa did her best to hide her surprise at hearing that Montague was helping Draco complete his task. "Draco usually comes back a few hours after Graham gets there."

_She thinks I will change my mind if Draco isn't back soon._ It pained her to see the desperation that the war had caused in her child, but Narcissa comforted herself with the knowledge that she would be taking her away from here very soon.

She looked up from her thoughts to see Graces hesitating to pick up the papers that spilled out of her hands. Narcissa frowned and looked down at her feet at the one laying right under her nose. A letter.

She always could tell when her daughter wanted something hidden from her and she took her time bending down to the letter on the ground that she held every intention of reading.

_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?_

_Thou art more lovely and more temperate:_

_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,_

_And summer's lease hath all too short a date:_

_Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,_

_And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;_

_And every fair from fair sometime declines,_

_By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;_

_But thy eternal summer shall not fade_

_Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;_

_Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,_

_When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;_

_So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,_

_So long lives this, and this gives life to thee._

_You do not have a better temperament than summer._

The letter remained unsigned. Narcissa read the poem again to better understand it and felt her heart become heavy with what the words implied. Love. They implied a deep love. Whoever gave this to her daughter loved her and apparently loved her and knew her well enough to know her temperament wasn't lovely. So she must be close with this boy. Narcissa looked up at her daughter's face and felt a sudden guilt for reading such a private letter.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, handing the letter back to her daughter, who snatched it from her hands as though if she took it away fast enough she would forget what it said. "He certainly has a way with words."

Graces blushed and shrugged her shoulders, but Narcissa knew better. She had held onto that letter and she was going to continue holding onto that letter. She was going to put it in her pocket and take it with her, so she could read it over and over again where she was going and think of the boy that had written it.

"May I ask—"

"It doesn't matter," Graces snapped, moving over to the fire and tossing all the papers in. "I'm leaving," she choked. "I'm leaving and never looking back. We're leaving," she repeated, her voice breaking. "I have to go and-and he can't come with me."

"Graces, I—"

"I need to get Octavian," Graces interrupted. "Octavian and Thomas, I have to get them."

Graces was striding to the door, when Narcissa stopped her.

"Octavian and Thomas," she repeated.

"Yes," Graces nodded. "We're leaving correct? I need to get them, so we can leave."

Narcissa hadn't thought of the remaining Higgs boys and she wasn't planning on taking them with her, but she knew from the look in her daughter's eyes that she would not leave without them. She had the same challenging look in her eye that she had given Lucius.

"We must hurry," Narcissa nodded, opening the door and stopping at the sight of her son.

"Mother," Draco blinked. "What-what are you doing here?"

"We're leaving," Narcissa declared, moving forward in a hurry to find Thomas. She couldn't waste anymore time. They had to go immediately.

"What?"

"We're leaving," Graces repeated, moving behind her mother. "Mum is taking us away. We're running."

"Running," Draco whispered, putting it all together like a puzzle. "Running." Narcissa gasped as her son's yanked her back. "Are you insane? Have you gone mad?" he spat, moving her against the cold stone.

"No, I have awoken," Narcissa declared. "I have awoken and I am no longer going to stand back while my children are torn apart!"

"Mother, we cannot leave," Draco growled.

"We can and we will!"

"No! No, I haven't failed yet! We can't go. Not yet! I am getting help. Finally things are turning around. I can do this. I can—"

"YOUR SISTER ALMOST DIED! SHE ALMOST DIED AND YOU WANT TO TAKE THE CHANCE OF STAYING?"

Draco looked away at her harsh words, but Narcissa couldn't stop now. She needed him to see.

"Draco, it's a fool's task," she whispered, tears brimming out of her eyes. "He wants you to fail. We must go. We must."

"And what about father?" Draco continued, his voice heavy with emotion.

"Your father would want you safe," Narcissa swore, knowing it to be the truth.

"They'll find us."

"No, they won't. I have a plan."

"I'm sure everyone else who fled had a plan," Draco countered, his voice becoming bitter. "It doesn't matter. They will find us."

"No, they won't. There is this muggle family that lives in France. The woman is a single mother and she has a daughter and son that are your age. We will go and—"

"You're not suggesting we take their lives are you?" Graces gasped, covering her mouth.

"I am. We will be them. We will polyjuice ourselves and live like muggles and—"

"And kill them," Graces finished horrified.

"It's us or them," Narcissa stated coldly. "There isn't another option."

"No," Graces proclaimed. "No, I won't do that."

"You have no other choice."

"Yes, we do!" Draco screamed. "I will finish the task I will—"

Narcissa groaned at her son's stubbornness and once again tried to get him to see this was the only option they had. She was beginning to realize that she may have to Imperius her children so they would come when Graces interrupted the argument.

"The safe house. We can go to the safe house!"

"The safe house," Narcissa repeated, remembering Graham's mention of Graces living under a delusion she could be safe at the safe house she was always speaking about.

"Not this again," Draco hissed.

"We could go. There is room for all of us and it's ready right _now_ ," Graces stressed. "Please, mother. Please. I swear it will work. I have portkeys and-and it's safe. Please."

It wasn't her plan, but then again it seemed as though Graces had been putting her plan into action long before she had put together hers.

"Who's the secret keeper?" Narcissa asked.

"Me."

"You?"

"Yes, me," Graces confirmed. "I am."

Narcissa felt like that was a lie, but she dismissed her suspicion of her being paranoid. What reason did Graces have to lie about such a thing.

"Very well."

"Oh so you change the plans just like that?" Draco fumed. "Your plan wasn't solid enough and you were just going to risk it?"

"Draco, we do not have time to argue."

"I am not leaving!"

"Yes. You. Are! I am your mother and you will do as I say!" Narcissa declared, rounding so that she was inches away from Draco's face. He was taller than her now, and it took effort to be able to meet his eyes this close, but even as grown as he was he winced at her words. He was still so much of a child. "Graces, get the boys. Now."

Narcissa didn't remove her sapphire eyes from Draco's silver, until she heard Graces' yelp and before she could do anything her daughter was being held at wand point by Severus Snape.


	68. Chapter 68

Graces could barely breathe as she felt Snape's arms tighten around her. The wizard wasn't preventing her from breathing, but she felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her, only she wasn't able to recover like after a blow. It felt as though there was no air left in the room, like it was sucked out and gone much like her hope. Her chest was tight and she was vibrating from head to toe as she stared at her mother's ice blue eyes and she knew even without a word that her mother felt the same.

"Release my daughter," Narcissa whispered, each word laced with poison.

"Do not do this," Snape warned, pulling Graces closer to his chest. "Narcissa, I beg of you do not do this."

"Release my daughter!" Narcissa repeated, her features resembling her sister's.

"No! I will not allow you to kill your children!" Snape bellowed, the calm collectedness in his voice abandoned. Draco took a step forward, but Narcissa stopped him before he took out his wand. It was her fight and she clearly was not going to allow anyone else to take Snape down.

"Kill my children," she echoed, moving from where she was standing and stalking the Potions professor like a feral cat. "Don't you dare act like you care for the welfare of my children. How dare you even look me in the eye after what you allowed to happen to my child!"

Graces felt him tense at her mother's words and she too realized what it meant.

"You left her there," Narcissa hissed, her hand so tight on her wand that her knuckles were white. "Then you brought her here so some muggle could open her up and put his filthy hands inside her!"

"I had no choice," Snape growled, angling Graces so she was kept between her mother and himself.

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Narcissa challenged, the rage in her eyes flickering dangerously.

"I tried to prevent her from coming. I told her she was a fool for coming. I—"

"SHE IS A CHILD!" Narcissa screeched. "SHE IS MY CHILD! I TRUSTED YOU TO PROTECT HER! YOU SWORE TO ME TO PROTECT HER!"

"I have protected her!" Snape roared, his hands now so tight on Graces' that she gasped with pain.

Narcissa bared her teeth and Snape's robes burst into flames. For years Graces had seen her mother light the torches in the halls without a wand. She would be engrossed in a letter, a book, conversation and just pass by lighting the flames in a darkened area with what seemed like no thought. She had never seen it for what it was, power and skill. Graces felt the heat on her back and jumped to get away, but Snape was just as talented it seemed and soon the flames were gone and he yanked her back by her hair and there was no longer a wand at her back, but a dagger at her throat.

"You say you don't want her to die and yet you hold a dagger to her throat."

"Better her to die at my hands then die at our Lord's as a traitor!" Snape snarled dragging her down to her knees so she looked even more helpless than she already was. Snape's chest was rising rapidly and though his hand was steady on the dagger she could feel the rest of him vibrating. "If you leave they will find you," Snape whispered, his voice pleading. "They will find you like they have found so many others and they will do to your daughter the same things they did to them. Maybe even worse."

A flicker of doubt came into the older woman's eyes and Snape pounced on it.

"She's beautiful," he continued, tilting Graces' face up and ignoring her tears. He kept the dagger close to her throat, so close her vein pulsated against it. "She's beautiful and talented and Nott is not the only one who has had his eyes on her. Think Narcissa, think for one moment what they would do to a pretty thing like her before they let her die."

"I refuse to watch that," Snape shook. "I won't see that. I didn't help bring her into the world to watch and be a part of her torture and death. I would rather slit her throat now and know it was a thousand times better than the pain she would have endured!"

"She's doomed to that fate if we stay," Narcissa argued, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Draco has not failed yet," Snape persisted. "He has not failed! He is closer now than ever before! He has help now. You're not thinking about this rationally."

"My daughter was butchered!"

"Your daughter is alive! She is alive and thriving! She has a proposal of marriage that she can take at any moment and secure her safety! She does not need to run! Running is putting her at risk! Draco—" Snape turned to younger boy "—don't listen to her. Don't go. I have sworn to do the task myself should you fail. I have vowed to ensure this task is carried out. I am just as intertwined in your fates. We're so close. Dumbledore will be dead before you leave for summer, I swear on my own life it will be so."

"His life is at risk if we go," Narcissa pointed out, moving so that she was blocking Snape's view of her son. "He doesn't care about you, Draco, or about Graces. He's just desperate. If we escape on his watch the Dark Lord will punish him, possibly even kill him depending on his mood."

Graces winced and ground her teeth to keep from whimpering as Snape's grip hardened on her. She didn't see a way out now, not with Snape holding a dagger to her throat and blocking his body with her own.

"You would be wise to release my child, Severus," Narcissa whispered, her wand eerily steady in her hand. "Just because I have spent the past 16 years raising children doesn't mean I've gone soft. If anything I am more hardened now." Narcissa took a small step forward and Snape in response dug the dagger so a few drops of blood pooled out of Graces' neck. Narcissa's eyes were at once drawn to the blood and the ice blue irises seemed to have turned to coal.

"Do you remember the first time we ever fought, Severus?" Narcissa smirked. "I do. And I distinctly remember that as smart and quick as you were I was still able to take you down."

"Things have changed since then," Snape countered, his cheeks reddening.

"Clearly," Narcissa deadpanned. "But not in the ways you are thinking. I'm still far more powerful than you, Severus."

"Blood status has no affect on power."

Narcissa scoffed. "Even if we pretend that is true, I still had more years training with magic, the better of private tutors, more strength, more agility and more experience dueling than you. Potions is your strength Severus, potions and planning, not dueling. While dueling does require tactical thinking it also requires force and you Severus have never possessed the strength you would need to fight me."

"I've grown up defending myself against the Black temper and if I can best my sister in dueling, I can best you."

"I do not want to fight you," Snape hissed. "Put your wand down, Narcissa, and listen to me! You want to leave? You want to leave now? When your son has better chances of succeeding, when he is getting help? After I have vowed an unbreakable vow to carry the task out myself should he not succeed? You want to leave when your daughter has a way out, when plans are brewing in the inner circle to free your husband from Azkaban?"

"What?" Draco asked, taking a step forward.

"He lies," Narcissa whispered, her face going white.

"I'm not lying," Snape seethed. "I'm telling the truth. Your husband is going to be free before summer comes."

"Mum, if fath—"

"It doesn't matter," Narcissa interjected. "Your father would not want us to wait. He wouldn't—"

"I'm not going," Draco declared, moving and standing behind Snape. "I won't go."

"We're not going, Snape," Draco growled, taking his wand out and pressing it against the professor's back. "You've made your point. Now release my sister."

Snape removed the dagger from Graces' throat and the blonde dropped to floor and sobbed uncontrollably. She watched her mother's feet move towards her, but before she could even lay a hand on her Snape was between them.

"You need to leave," Snape informed coldly. Narcissa opened her mouth to say something scathing, but Snape continued. "Do you have any idea what I am giving you by not telling what you were planning? I am giving you and your family your lives, but if you continue to stand there wasting time so that someone will notice your absence I won't be able to save you all. It will be out of my hands."

"Mum," Graces pleaded, holding the small cut of her neck and looking up from the floor.

"You need to leave," Snape repeated.

Graces had never seen her mother look so defeated. She stared up at her brother who refused to look at either of them. She had the key, if her mother could just get close enough for her to touch she could take her and Draco to the safe house.

_And what about Thomas and Octavian?_

Graces wracked her mind for some way they could go. There had to be something she could do, but slowly her hope began to leave her. With every tear that rolled down her mother's cheek she watched as hope left.

"Draco," Narcissa whispered looking over Snape's shoulder at her son.

Draco met her eyes for a brief moment before turning away and leaving down the stairs. Graces wanted to scream at Draco for abandoning them. For turning his back on them when they were so close. He had no trust for them, none at all. It was one thing for him to not listen to her about the safe house, but to turn his back on their mother. She looked up into her mother's face and she could tell that Draco had just taken something from her, what fire she had left. She imagined her mother had used the last of her strength to come here, to take them. She was like an animal that had clawed its way out of an abyss only to be knocked back in.

"Leave," Snape repeated sharply.

"Let me at least say goodbye," Narcissa requested.

Snape grabbed her arm forcefully and prevented her from taking another step.

"No."

"I just want to say goodbye to my child, Severus," Narcissa insisted, ripping her arm away and moving forward.

"Take another step," Snape dared, his body practically vibrating with fury. "Do it. Do it and see what will happen. Take another step and I swear on my magic you will not only not see your daughter before summer, but I will take her away. You can spend the next few months wondering where she is."

Narcissa paused and stared at the man standing next to her. It was now a battle of wills. Snape just wanted to hurt her and wield his dominance over her.

"Don't think for one moment I won't do it. I'll take her to the ends of the earth. I'll potion her so she won't be able to even think. I'll snap her wand in two. I will make her as helpless as possible to ensure she won't be able to escape or call for help. You will never find her and she will not even know what is happening." Narcissa's lip trembled and she moved for her wand, but Snape grabbed for her hand preventing her from bringing it up. "Go ahead and hate me," he whispered, his quiet words filling the room. "Hate me all you want; hate me for saving your children."

"You are not saving them," Narcissa proclaimed bitterly. "You are sealing their tombs."

"Make your decision, Narcissa," Snape ordered coldly.

Narcissa's lower lip began to vibrate and Graces knew her mother's decision well before she turned her back to leave. She didn't know what snapped inside her, but she lunged towards her mother like a wounded animal, screaming for her to come back. Snape held her tightly preventing her from descending the stairs after her mother who wouldn't even look at her as she screamed again and again.

She knew with each cry she was twisting a dagger in her mother's gut and she didn't care. She wanted her to feel that pain. She wanted the pain to be so unbearable that she would run up those stairs and kill Severus Snape. Once he was dead they would find Draco, get Thomas and Octavian and leave. So she continued sounding like a poor pathetic child. She wailed "Mother, Mother..." again and again, mixing in "don't leave me, mother help me, please..." and even "mummy" as many times as she possibly could before she left. She wanted each cry sounding in her bones, she wanted it piercing her heart and prayed it would be so horrific it would take away the fear and bring back the lioness.

But it didn't work. Her mother never came back. Snape didn't release his hold on her after she left either. The Potions master kept his arms tightly around her even after she slumped down to the ground, he still held her. Graces gritted her teeth and growled at his touch, at his presence, at the rancid smell that surrounded her that was his.

"I hate you." Silence, just his ever present arms holding her. "I HATE YOU!" she shrieked, the glass on the pictures shattering.

Still nothing.

Graces could feel all her hatred and hurt boiling up in her. She felt like her magical core was igniting in her chest and she was going to burn alive with rage.

"I meant what I said," Snape whispered, his hot breath tickling her ear. "I will take you away. I will chain you, body and mind. No one will know where you are and I will give you so many potions you won't remember who you are. And I won't just do this if your mother becomes foolish again. I am willing to do this should you, your brother, Thomas or anyone else who dares to think escape is an option."

"You have no idea what they would do to you," Snape whispered. "When you were beaten they still held respect for you. You are a Malfoy, and your father's name and previous work for our Lord still protects you. The moment you taint that name with traitorous behavior there will be no salvation for you. What they will do to you will be nothing compared to what you have endured."

"Stop acting like you care," Graces seethed. "I know whose skin you want to save and it isn't mine."

There was a tension in the air at her words, but Snape didn't say anything more. She slumped to the ground as he released her and refused to look up at him as he left. She hated him, with everything that she was she hated him. She let that hate give her the energy she needed to stand up off the ground and go back to her room. As she entered it, though, she felt more empty. She looked over to the fireplace where she had fed Neville's letters and poems and regret began to mix with the hate she harvested.

She wished she could take it back, but she also knew that if she were back in the moment she would have done the exact same thing. Still, she couldn't bear to look at the fire any longer, because when she looked at the fire she hated herself. Not for throwing away the letters, that was smart, but for how easily she had been willing to throw him away.

_I wasn't throwing him away. I was surviving._

Graces knew that was the truth. She was surviving. And she wasn't even leaving him, in the end she was going to convince her mother to use his safe house.

_That was only after you realized mother's plan was flawed. You were going to leave, disappear without a trace._

"He would have understood," Graces whispered. "He would have understood and been happy I was safe."

_He wouldn't have known if you were safe and it would have driven him mad._

Graces tried to tell herself it wouldn't have, that Neville would have assumed the best, but the more she kept trying to convince herself the more she knew it wasn't true.

_It doesn't matter anymore,_ Graces realized, sitting down on the cold floor of her dorm and tucking her knees close to her chest. _I'm not going anywhere. There is no chance of escape anymore. There is no safe house._ And with that last thought she let her heart shatter and she wailed out from the pain of it all.


	69. Chapter 69

Algie watched his great nephew turn the next page in his book and felt himself missing Christmases past. He missed the Christmas mornings when little feet would be running down the hall to the stairs and it would only be a few more moments before there was an excited knock on his door telling him it was time to wake for Christmas morning. He missed the loud afternoon that followed with a pint-size wizard laughing in the middle of the room and playing with his new toys while he and Augusta watched. It wasn't like that anymore. Christmas was quiet now.

It was still warm. He could feel the warmth that came from being with your family during Christmas. It wasn't lacking in love. Neville kept looking up from his new book at him and smiling, Augusta was filling the house with scents of all their favorite treats from the kitchen and he had just finished the last touches on the Christmas decorations, but he missed the noise. It was times like this when he missed Frank and Alice.

It had been nearly two decades, but he could imagine them here now. He could see Alice sitting next to her son invested in her own book, every once in a while leaning in and whispering something humorous in his ear. Alice had this quiet way about her. She never raised her voice, and even her laugh was quiet, but it never kept her from being heard. He could see her there right now smiling at her own humor and he could see Neville rolling his eyes but laughing with her.

He could hear Augusta scolding Frank in the kitchen for stealing a finger of frosting, his brother jokingly yelling at Frank to make a run for it and their loud laughter echoed through his mind to the point where he felt his chest tightening. This is what made holidays hard, remembering things about them and knowing what they would be doing if they were here now.

Neville put his book down after a moment, grabbed his empty glass of water and headed to the kitchen, leaving Algie with phantom memories.

"I saw that, Neville Longbottom," Augusta called, as Neville emerged out of the kitchen his finger in his mouth.

"I know. I did it right in front of you. It's not like I was trying to be sneaky," Neville grinned, smiling at his grandmother through the doorway.

"Neville, do you think any of us want to eat a cake that you put your fingers in?"

"That can be my piece."

"That's an awfully big piece, young man."

"Yeah, I know," Neville grinned, his smile mirroring the mischievous one his father used to have. "Good thing carrot cake is my absolute favorite." Augusta made some scoffing sound that didn't seem to have any effect on Neville's smile. "Thank you for making my favorite dessert, Gran."

"Get out of my kitchen."

"I am out of your kitchen."

"Neville!"

Neville laughed and sauntered back to his chair where he left his book. It had been days since there had been smiles in the home, since they all felt they were allowed to be happy despite the news they received. Algie didn't even know he had still hoped that Frank and Alice could one day be well until Augusta came home from the hospital in tears and Neville sat him down and told him the news.

Told him the news like a man and not some confused teenager. Told him the news with strength like his father but gentleness like his mother. He was the best of them, the very best. All Alice's patience and kindness with wisps of his father's humor and strength... and both of their courage. And then there were things so uniquely Neville.

"Uncle Algie, you have to take a look at this charm. If I could master this charm we could have whatever plants we wanted along the walkway year round."

_And perhaps a bit of me._

"I'm too old to be bending over you to take a look at it. Bring it here." Neville stood up and brought the book over. Algie read a few lines about the charm, but was more interested in all the things Neville had written in the margins of the page, lines and lines of notes. There were some to note what he had deemed interesting, others to remind him of an idea for his little business and a few small ones here and there that made him think that his nephew was thinking of a home of his own.

"You know, there's a lot out there, Nev. You should take a year after you graduate to go see some things. Travel, meet new people, try new foods, look at different plants. There's a big world out there," Algie said quietly, ignoring how tight his heart clenched at the thought of Neville being gone and the house becoming quieter. "You should see it all."

"I don't need to see it all at once," Neville shrugged, clearly not caring for the idea. "I would rather see it bit by bit."

"You're young," Algie chuckled. "You should go see it while you're young. You should at this age be itching to see the world. Go explore while nothing is holding you back."

"Trying to get rid of me?" Neville asked, his brow raised in a way that reminded Algie of someone. "And here I thought you liked having me around." _Is that a smirk?_ "Now, I get it. You and Gran want your freedom. Done raising little wizards?"

The older man stared at his nephew. His rounded cheeks, strong jaw, warm eyes. So many things were familiar, so many things were generations blended into one another. But that smirk. That raised eyebrow. That-that drawl. Who was that? Surely, not Neville.

"What?"

"I—did you just _smirk_ , Neville?"

"Yes," Neville said slowly, apparently seeing nothing wrong in this. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You don't smirk."

"Apparently I do."

"You do now," Algie admitted. "But never before." Neville frowned slightly, but Algie held his stare. "It's... it's familiar."

"What is?"

"That... that smirk." Neville's face paled slightly, only slightly before he schooled his features into nothing. Another thing that wasn't at all like Neville.

He didn't know why it bothered him. Why those small expressions rubbed him so wrong. It reminded him of someone. Someone that made his stomach turn and his blood boil.

"I didn't mean to make you upset."

"I'm not upset," Algie snapped, surprised at the reaction he was having to such a simple thing. "I'm sorry," he whispered, gathering himself. Reminding himself that this was Neville and he was just tired and worn from the week. "I'm sorry, son," he rasped, more ashamed than anything. "It's been a hard week. Old wounds have been reopened and... I'm sorry, I must just be overly tired."

Neville stood there for a moment, absently fiddling with the book in his hands and staring off at the floor in deep thought. The older man remained silent, knowing the telltale signs of when Neville wanted to speak but wasn't sure enough of himself to act. After a few more moments of internal debate Neville looked up at him, his eyes full with a mixture of emotions rawer than he had ever seen before.

"I didn't ask Graces Malfoy out because she was pretty. I asked her out because I genuinely wanted to be with her. I asked her out because when she's not in a mood, and is playful, that condescending Malfoy smirk is no longer cynical... and it's the best part of my day." Neville moved away from him and went back to his chair where he opened his book and hid his face behind the page. Algie wasn't sure what to say, or if Neville wanted him to say anything at all, but after a few moments of tangible silence he continued. "I'm not shallow, and she's not vapid. I like her."

Not past, current. He likes her.

"Even after she was-she was so cruel to you?"

"Even after."

Algie could see Neville closing up. Putting up walls around him, protecting himself from what he thought he may say to him. Expecting to hear disapproval, readying himself for a scolding he apparently had no desire to take to heart.

"What do you like about her?" Algie did his best to make the question sound inviting. He disapproved, he disapproved entirely, but he didn't want Neville to have a relationship with him where he felt the need to hide his feelings.

Neville looked up from his book cautiously, clearly debating if this was a trap. _When did he become so suspicious._

"Too much to list."

"Top three then."

"You wouldn't believe me if I did."

"Try me," the older man challenged.

Neville considered for a few moments, his eyes flashing over to him unsurly, before he lifted his book closer to him and said no.

"You hate her."

"I have said nothing of the sort."

"I could see it when you looked at me when I smirked. You hate her."

"I hate Lucius," Algie hissed, trying to keep his temper on a leash. "I do not hate that girl."

_Oh this was bad... Really bad._ he could see the tension in Neville's every muscle. That girl, Graces Bellatrix Malfoy, had a hold on him, a great one. He didn't understand it, but looking at Neville now he knew that his reaction to expressions earlier put him on edge. For some reason he cherished that witch.

"Neville, please talk to me."

And there it was, something pure Neville shining through. The Neville that always forgave. His endless empathy.

"Do you remember when the Higgs clan was slaughtered?" The older man nodded. "Well, I-I offered her my condolences. I knew she was close with the Higgs clan and I wanted her to know how sorry I was. I told her if she or Thomas needed anything to owl me."

Algie could already see where this was going. He remembered Augusta raging about Neville's fire call. They debated over what she should do all through the night and in the end it had been _him_ that convinced her to do as Neville said. He convinced her because he thought Neville truly believed the child needed youth. He believed he made that choice as a patriarch and wanted to ensure that the Ministry continued honoring the importance of that title. Making sure Octavian was given to a Patriarch who had the rightful claim.

"She wanted your grandmother's vote," Algie whispered horrified. "You gave-you gave her your grandmother's vote."

Neville nodded.

"I told her no at first," Neville continued, looking away. "I told her that Thomas was just a child himself, that he wouldn't know what to do with an infant. But she was... she was so desperate. She begged me and when I told her I couldn't, that it was impossible to give Octavian the child when he wouldn't be home to care for it because of school she then volunteered herself as sacrifice."

Algie frowned, unsure of Neville meant.

"She told me she would drop out of school, that she would raise the child. She said she would not allow Thomas to lose the only family he had left."

"They're not even family," Neville went on, almost in tears from the memory. "He's not related to her. She can't gain anything from him. The Higgs army is gone, but she still was there. She was more than just there. She was going to give up her education, her life, to raise a child for a boy she had no obligation to. Who does that? What sixteen year old girl does that?"

Neville was silent for a few moments lost in his thoughts and... admiration.

"Graces Malfoy does that," he whispered. Algie noted the way Neville said her name and did his best not to recoil.

"I still said no. I wasn't going to let her do that. Instead I told her she needed to get Thomas' great aunt to raise the child."

"Why wasn't that the plan to begin with?"

"Thomas' great aunt is a squib, and there was a very good chance she wouldn't give up her life in the muggle world to return to this one," Neville let out a long sigh, as though the memory alone made him tired. "Graces convinced her to, though, and from there she buried Thomas' dead and made him a new life."

"You have no idea what she did for that boy," Neville rasped, his face twisting in anguish. "No idea. She's-she's walked through hell for him. She would die for him. She would die for any of the people she loves."

"So there it is. Caring, selfless and brave. Three things I like about her."

Algie wanted to ask more. He wanted to ask a lot more. He wanted to ask how he could feel that way when the girl could be so cruel, how he could justify giving her his affections like this when she was so prejudiced, but before he could ask any of this Augusta was calling them to the dining room for dinner.

It went without saying that this conversation could not continue in front of her. He sat at the table with his little family and tried to pay attention to the things Augusta was saying, to the happy family conversation, but he couldn't put his heart in it, not when his mind was still in the other room hearing about Graces Malfoy and seeing Lucius Malfoy's smirk on his nephew's face.

It all felt so unreal. He never in a million years would have believed Neville would compromise himself for a girl. To use his power as patriarch to give Graces Malfoy his grandmother's influence... If Augusta ever knew it would tear their family apart from the inside out. The only thing that pushed the Malfoys from his mind was Mable running into the dining room squeaking that the Weezies had been attacked.

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Graces took another deep breath and convinced herself to continue. She had been doing this for the better part of an hour. She laid in the bed Neville left her, breathing in his scent and willing herself to continue in this life.

It was gone. All gone. There was no escaping her hell. This was her life now. She was shackled to this fate. When she was younger she believed the fates had smiled on her. She believed the gods had favored her, graced her with pure blood, beauty and power, power that didn't just live in her veins, but power that lived in her vaults and heritage. She never believed for one second anything bad could fall upon her. If anything ill happened, she had her father.

But now, she just had Draco who was now a stranger to her. She knew it was her fault as much as his, possibly even more, but the pain of not knowing the man he was becoming stung. She was so frightened. Frightened for herself, frightened for her mother, frightened for Draco, for Thomas and Octavian... for Neville. She knew she shouldn't be so worried about him, but she was.

She wished he was there with her. She wanted him to pull her into him and promise her things he had no business promising her. That everything would be all right. That he would stay by her side till the world came crashing down. She knew she shouldn't want such things from him, but she did. Her world was gone. It hadn't just fallen apart. It was truly gone and this was the world she was left with. Her fragile strength was gone and this new world had pushed her down and wouldn't allow her to get back up. She needed Neville to lift her up.

The past few weeks without him had been miserable. She and Draco could barely look at each other since the failed escape. His anger was tangible and hers was silent. She punished him with her silence and he punished her with glares and growls. Everything was a wreck. Thomas and Graham didn't know what transpired. Draco made it very clear she was not to tell anyone what their mother had tried to do.

She didn't blame him for that. If word got out it would be death. It would be cruel to give that knowledge to Graham. If he kept it a secret it put his life at risk, and if he didn't... it was theirs. As for Thomas, she couldn't bear it if she saw the same disappointment in his eyes that she held in her heart.

She didn't know what to do anymore. She had never fought with her brother like this. There were a few times after the incident that she almost raised her wand to him... and a few times he seemed inclined to do the same. They had both settled for screaming. Each of them telling the other how they were going to get them killed, but neither changed their mind or opinion. Draco believed what he did was best and she believed he had thrown away their best chance of survival.

Graham had dared to try and talk to her, to figure out what had happened, and she had walked away, refusing to speak a word to him. Draco needed him anyways. With her refusing to speak he needed someone to talk to. They were growing close, he and Graham. He even made Draco smile a few times at Yule. He was a good man.

She stared at the letter sitting on the nightstand, the one Graham had slipped into her hand after she finished dinner and was hurrying to leave, not wanting to speak to her brother.

_Graces,_

_We need to talk, not scream, talk. Have lunch with me tomorrow._

_Draco_

She rolled over in bed, refusing to allow that letter to plague her more. She didn't know if Draco wanted to bury the hatchet or demand, as the patriarch of the family, that she trust him and his decision. He didn't understand. He didn't have to do this. He had a chance to save not just his life, but his soul and he turned away from it. She pulled her knees closer to her chest and a sob racked through her chest.

Draco wasn't a killer. He was her other half. Her soulmate. And not in the way people saw soul mates. They were joined by something, something so strong she was convinced they were intertwined. He couldn't be someone's weapon. He couldn't. It would change him. This task, this war. It would change him.

She believed wholeheartedly they had it in them to be killers. She knew she could take someone's life. She knew Draco could too, but not like this. They could kill to protect the ones they loved, but not as someone's weapon. This wasn't their agenda. She knew if Draco succeeded the Dark Lord wouldn't just stop there. He would use her brother again and again to slay his enemies. And they would become shells of themselves.

_Father didn't._

_Because father enjoyed it._

Graces held her breath to keep from getting sick. She felt the bile burn her throat, but it didn't go further. She hated that she knew this about her father. She hated Severus Snape for so many reasons. She wished he never told her about her father. She didn't care that remaining ignorant was a coward's way. She missed not knowing. She loved her father. She didn't want to know these things about him.

_Another part of my old world I will never be able to get back._

Graces didn't even have the tears to cry for that. She had spent almost every night crying herself to this point where exhaustion began taking over and her eyes were so swollen they wouldn't even stay open. She pulled the covers around her and pretended for her last moment of consciousness that Neville was there with her. He had come back early and he was going to hold her as she cried herself to sleep. A few more days, a few more days and Neville would be back with the rest of the school and when he came back she would hold him and make love to him until the pain subsided. She knew she couldn't tell him about what had happened. She didn't want to see that break in him, but she could have him. She could have him and sooth her soul.

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Neville stared at Graces as she laid in bed. The morning light softly caressed her cheek and brought her golden hair awake with color. He missed her so much over the break. He didn't even feel whole until he walked into the room and saw her sleeping, tucked away from the world where he had left her. He sat down beside her on the bed and moved a few strands of hair so he could better see her face.

His heart clenched as he saw the tell tail signs of tears. She hadn't told him anything in her letters. He should have known something was wrong, though. Her writing had been less engaging. He of course devoured every word she wrote like a fine wine, but now that he read those letters over again in his head he saw the lack of heart in them. He reached his hand out and took the handkerchief that was clenched in her fist and placed it on the nightstand before stripping down to his underthings and slipping into bed with her.

She was wearing his shirt. She was wearing his shirt and burying her nose in the sheets in which his scent still lingered. He was glad he came back early. He had felt so guilty leaving them to be with her for a few days, but now that guilt was gone. He must have known. Somewhere deep in his bones he must have known she needed him. He had missed her so much the past few weeks, but it seemed that the feeling had intensified after just barely a week.

It was a physical pain to be away from her. He felt on edge, like he had bit down and dragged a fork along his teeth. It was miserable.

He gathered her into him and smiled as she didn't wake, but let out a content sigh before entangling herself closer to him. Her long bare legs wound around his and the curves of her breasts pressed against his chest. Neville's heartbeat thundered in his ears and he didn't dare breathe until he regained his control. Her scent was all around him, teasing and enticing.

His head became cloudy and it took every ounce of self control not to kiss her awake and move on top of her. His hands wandered on her bare legs. She was so soft and he missed her so much. He leaned in and kissed her just once, just a small brush of his lips to sooth the fire roaring in his veins. When she just smiled and didn't wake he made his decision. Graces would sleep. He could wait. They had plenty of time. She was done running and he was done chasing. They had finally come together and now could just be.


	70. Chapter 70

Her eyes hurt and there was a pounding headache against the back of her eyes, but Graces couldn't bring herself to wake up. She was so warm and everything about the bed around her was inviting. She moved closer to the warmth despite the fact that her skin was already clammy from the heat and was surprised when her movements were answered by strong arms pulling her closer, arms that were already wrapped around her.

Her eyes sprang open, but she didn't bother reaching for her wand. She knew who it was even before she saw. Neville was lying beside her, dead to the world as though being there now was ordinary and not the wish her heart had silently made every moment of every long day. He was laying there beside her, his sandy hair disheveled, snoring.

She didn't know why she was crying when she was so blindly happy, but she was. She stifled a sob and reached out a tentative hand and barely brushed her fingers against his hair. She didn't want to wake him, maybe because she feared if he woke he would suddenly be gone. This couldn't be. He wasn't supposed to be here for a few more days, and yet he felt real against her fingers. The heat coming from his body against her was real.

"Neville," she rasped, her throat dry from sleep and tears. There was a slight frown and twitch, but Neville remained sleeping. She repeated his name again, her lips brushing against his and she continued whispering his name and kissing his lips until he was soon kissing her back, a soft moan growing in the back of his throat as she deepened it.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, her skin prickling as he buried his fingers in her hair and kissed her harder.

"I _was_ sleeping."

Graces laughed or sobbed, she wasn't sure, but what she was sure of, what she was absolutely certain of, was that Neville was there with her, kissing her, moving into her, running his hands up her sides and under her shirt, his shirt.

"I missed you," he said, his hot breath brushing against her cheek. "So much I couldn't bear another moment without you."

"Then why didn't you wake me?" Graces asked, closing her eyes as her senses began to cloud.

"You seemed like you could use some sleep." There were no words. He was there, holding her, looking into her eyes tenderly and suddenly she didn't even have a body anymore. "And, judging by how late it is, I was right. You, Miss Malfoy, must have been exhausted. You've slept a very long time. I'm afraid you've wasted the morning sun."

Graces laughed at Neville's scolding and kissed him into silence. She could feel him grinning against her lips and the vibration of his laugh against her chest.

"I missed you too," she murmured, taking his lips in hers again and biting back a moan as his tongue played along hers. She could feel herself getting lost in him and was almost swept away before she bolted up and realized Neville said she had wasted the morning sun. "Oh my gods and goddess! What time is it?"

Neville looked up at her in his disheveled state and made a face that told her exactly what time he thought it was, but Graces ignored him and jumped off the bed and looked around for his watch. She let out a small eep when she realized she was supposed to meet Draco five minutes ago and was about to hurry towards the closet for some clothes when Neville grabbed her hand.

"Don't go, come back to bed," Neville ordered, pulling her onto the soft mattress. "We were in the middle of something, I believe."

"I have to go," Graces groaned. "I was supposed to meet Draco for lunch. I have to go."

"Let him wait," Neville shrugged, kissing from her collarbone up along her neck. "I'll make it worth your while."

It was very tempting, especially considering Draco was not her favorite person at the moment and she was dreading this little lunch anyways.

"Draco does not like to be kept waiting, and I'm already late."

"See. He'll be mad anyways. Might as well stay."

"I can't," Graces laughed, standing up from the bed. "Seriously, Neville, what am I going to say? Oh, sorry I'm late I was a bit busy shagging my boy fr—" She stopped short and blushed. It sounded so stupid: Neville, her boyfriend. He was, but saying it like that... They said they were together, but never put any titles to it. She assumed, but... She opened her mouth to continue to say that she had to go and try to forget how ridiculous she was, but Neville was grinning like the fool he was and before she could stop him he tackled her back down to the bed and she was pinned under him.

"Yes, actually," he smirked smugly. "Though, I would word it a bit differently. I for one would start by saying 'Sorry I'm late, but my very handsome boyfriend was dying to be with me. So much so that he came home early from holiday because he couldn't stand one more minute of the agony being apart caused him.'" Graces did her best to hide the small smile tugging at her lips, but she knew Neville saw. "Oh, and do me a favor and don't tell him that I'm that handsome bloke because it would be such a tragedy if he killed me before I had the opportunity to spend a proper night with you."

It was wrong on so many levels, but Graces didn't fight. She smiled and when Neville leaned in and kissed her softly, slowly putting her back together with his presence, she gave in. She gave into her body that craved his every caress, his eyes that pleaded with her to stay, her lips that pined to touch his, and her heart who yearned for his soul.

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Neville was slowly losing himself. With every movement he made inside her he was disappearing. He didn't believe in Gods, in Goddesses, in the old ways or any new, but he believed in Graces. Nothing had ever truly felt holy or sacred until he had been with her in September and every time he touched her he was reminded of that.

The scent of her skin, the feel of her breasts in his palm, the desire he felt swelling around him, he was lost in her. She had moved on top of him and he held her as close to him as possible as she teased him with her hips. Her eyes glowed against her reddened cheeks and he didn't see how she could not know that he was under her spell. He was utterly powerless against her.

He ran his hand down her back, stopping at her hip where he pulled her in harder and reined in his self control as she let out a slow moan. She was exquisite, a fine wine to the lips and a symphony to the ears. He was unraveling. His eyes glanced at her glistening throat and her movements suddenly were all teasing with no real fulfillment. He flipped her back down underneath him and thrust into her harder, making her sing with pleasure. He repeated the movement again and again, wanting nothing more than to hear his name on her bated breath.

He could feel her around him, so close to release and he was answering her body's demands with his just as fervently as it was demanding. They were there together, drowning, happy, so close to the only heaven he knew when suddenly there was a pounding at the front door and another demanding voice behind. Neville's heart halted for a totally different reason than before and he stared wide-eyed down at Graces underneath him.

"Tell me that is not who I think it is," he said slowly, his whole body shaking. Neville flinched as Draco slammed on the front door again, shouting his sister's name, demanding she open the door. Graces didn't even move, her eyes widened and she covered her face with her hands and whispered an assortment of very rude words.

"Graces," Neville growled.

The blonde pushed him off her and swept the room for clothes to put on.

"Tell me that is not who I think it is," Neville repeated, his voice a bit louder than he intended.

"I would, but I don't want to lie to you."

"Graces, what the bloody hell is Draco doing here? You told him about this place?"

"No," Graces whispered, motioning with her hands to keep his voice down. "I... I'm traced."

"You let him put a trace on you?" Neville hissed.

Graces ran over to the bedroom door and called out to Draco to wait a moment, before turning back to Neville.

"You don't understand," she said, moving about the room and grabbing Neville's clothes and flinging them in his hands. "He-he begged me. I had to let him."

"So he can always know where you are, always find you?" Neville's ears were ringing. He didn't know if it was panic, fear or anger but he couldn't even get his head back on straight.

"Please hide!" Graces exclaimed, keeping her voice hushed. "Please hide!"

"Why would you let him put a trace on you?"

Now was not the time to be furious, but the Gryffindor couldn't keep himself controlled. He was naked as the day he was born and still riled up from the moment before and Draco Malfoy was about to be in the same room as him.

"Because I almost died," Graces snapped. "Because I did die and he was convinced it was all his fault. Because he didn't know where I was and he found out when it was too late that I was being beaten to death! So yes, Longbottom, I granted my brother peace of mind and let him put a trace on me! He has never abused it. He has kept his word. He has never used it. He's only using it now because I didn't show up to that damn lunch. Now stop badgering me with questions and fucking hide!"

Neville let out a snarl, but yanked on his trousers and threw the rest of his clothes in a drawer, before grabbing his wand to disillusion himself. Graces was about to run to the door when he yanked her back.

"I don't think it's wise to let your brother see you in another man's shirt," he pointed out, not bothering to hide his temper. Graces cursed and hastily took off the shirt. Neville held onto it and disillusioned himself as Graces yanked on a silk robe she had tucked into the closet.

"I'm so dead," Neville groaned, as he took in the room. There was no way to hide the lingering scent or the obvious telltale signs on Graces. There were no blemishes, thank the gods, but she was still sticky with sweat.

"Just be silent and stay in this room. I"ll try to keep him in the living room."

"Yeah, good luck with that."

Graces glowered at the spot where she thought he was before leaving to answer the door.

Neville could barely breathe as he heard Draco come barrelling through, and just as he suspected his sister's appearance led him straight into the bedroom.

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Draco stared into the empty room, his whole body alive with rage.

"What is your problem?!"

Draco ignored his sister's screams and yanked open the closet door, moving his hands around to to see if anyone was hiding in there. Next he checked the bathroom. He felt like a mad bull. Running from this end of the room, sharply running to the next. All the while Graces seethed in fury.

"You have got to be kidding me," she whispered with deathly calm.

Draco blushed, but didn't back down. Someone had to be here. Someone was there. It all clicked the moment Graces answered the door, clutching that robe around her naked form. She hadn't been alone. He was sure someone was there. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn't mistaken. He couldn't be.

"Who's here, Graces?"

"No one."

"You're lying." Oh his head was pounding. He could feel the blood pulsing behind his eyes. "I know you weren't alone."

"Do you now?" Graces inquired, her voice dangerously steady. "And who could I possibly be with?" she challenged. "In case you have not noticed there aren't many men around here at the moment. Unless you think I fuck Snape, Thomas or Graham when your back is turned."

Draco hadn't thought of that. He knew it wasn't Graham; he had just left the bloke. Graham had bumped into him while he was waiting for Graces. And Thomas... much too young. Graces thought of him like her own child.

"Or maybe you think I lounge in bed with Albus Dumbledore." Graces scoffed and turned away. Draco felt his throat tighten as she moved away from him. He was losing her more and more with each passing day.

"I have night terrors. I sleep better here. They don't plague me as much. Sometimes they still come... But that's my business. I'd rather have a night terror here alone than hurt Pansy and Millie when they try to wake me. I can't stand the potions anymore."

"Graces, I'm—"

"Just leave," Graces breathed, her back still turned to him.

Draco knew he probably should. He had insulted her, insulted her after weeks of screaming at her, nights of not speaking to her. He wanted to talk to her, make things right for them again and in a moment of rage he shattered his chance.

"You didn't meet with me."

"I never agreed to meeting you. I never replied to your letter."

"Yes, but—"

"You assumed."

Her soft words carved into his chest with such violence he had to cross his arms to keep himself together.

"What is this place?" he asked, not able to leave.

"My sanctuary."

Oh gods, if she would just turn around. Draco prayed she would turn around, that she would look at him and see his wounded soul and know without him having to say it that he was dying without her, drowning and not willing to swim to safety.

"Please leave," Graces repeated tiredly. "We've said all that we needed to say to each other and more."

That was it. He could barely breathe, let alone move to leave. She was done. All the tenderness she held for him was gone. The silence around him was ringing so loudly in his ears he could barely think. His eyes stung and his breathing was harder with each passing second. If Graces felt any of this she didn't show it. She still had not even deigned to look at him. After a few moments her shoulders fell and _she_ moved to leave, giving up on the idea of him giving her peace.

And so his world crashed and it was so violent it brought him to his knees and before she could reach the door he had her hand in his and he was sobbing on the floor. "Don't leave me. Please d-don't l-leave m-me." Oh gods, the air. It was so heavy, too heavy. It wouldn't reach his lungs. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. Please don't l-leave m-me. P-please."

The world slammed into his back and he felt as though his soul was being dragged to hell and she was his only beacon of hope. He couldn't even hear what she was saying because the ringing in his ears was so horrific, but he knew she was trying to take her hand away and couldn't let her. He couldn't let her leave him.

"P-please l-love m-me," Draco begged. He felt her fingers slip out of his grip and the tears just wouldn't stop.

"Draco. Draco, my love." He couldn't even bear to look at her. He felt her hands on his face, her presence as she kneeled down with him. "Draco, I do love you. I'll love you all of this life and the next," Graces swore, her voice tight with emotion.

"I don't -I don't feel you anymore," Draco sobbed, his body shaking as he let his sister pull him into her so he could cry against her. "I don't feel you anymore."

Draco gripped at her as though she was leaving forever, because it felt like she already had. That invisible bond they had always had felt severed. He didn't feel her in him anymore, he couldn't reach out and know how she felt and know she knew how he felt. They were practically strangers, strangers who once shared a soul. He wanted her back, wanted that feeling back.

"I'll tell you everything," he swore. "I'll show you everything if you come back to me."

"Draco, I—"

"I don't want secrets between us anymore. No more secrets. I'll tell you everything if it means we can be whole again. Everything," Draco repeated, not caring that his tears and snot had rolled off him onto her. He just wanted her to continue holding him there against her and never let go. If they couldn't be mended back together he just wanted to die. He wanted to die right there in that room in her arms and be done with this emptiness of life.

"Graham said this was my fault." Graces whimpered her protest, but Draco continued over her. "He said—he said I kept you in the dark and then punished you for not knowing the way. P-punished you f-for using a m-match and n-not allowing y-you my t-torch. He d-doesn't know about mum, b-but I t-told him about how you w-wanted to escape a wh-while ago."

"Draco." There was so much heaviness and heartbreak in his sister's voice that he looked up at her and cried harder at the sight of her tears. She was biting her lip violently as she muffled her cries and for a brief moment the bond didn't seem severed, just frayed. "Draco, I—"

"Come with me," Draco begged, pulling up so that his forward was touching hers and there noses pressed against one another. "Come with me and see it all. I want us to be a team again. You should be by my side. I thought I was saving you, saving your soul, but-but I can't save your soul, Graces. It's a part of mine."

"Will you let me help?"

Draco pressed his forehead harder against hers and tightened his hold on the back of her neck.

"You don't know what you're ask for."

"I do," Graces swore. "I'm asking for the same thing you are. For us to be one again. For us to do everything together. Including charging through the gates of hell."

"You don't understand what your hands being clean means to me." Draco shook, the lump in his throat overpowering him. "It means—it means I am in some way clean, that part of my soul is redeemable, that one day when I pass the gods will not turn away from me. My soul will be charred, but-but if they see yours, see us connected... you're my salvation."

"Two sides of the same coin." Draco nodded and prayed she would agree. There was a long silence, but she didn't let go of him. She stayed on that floor holding him, thinking.

"Will you come with me?" he rasped, barely able to hold himself together. "I'll show you what Graham and I have been working on. From there we can talk. Actually talk. I won't yell."

Her words were shaky, but she agreed and Draco felt some of the weight lift. He felt stronger than he had in months and he stood up more so he was now the one now slightly above her.

"We'll talk about the safe house too," he promised, his heart heavier and lighter all at once. "I-I'm going to sh-show you why I am saying no. I-I have to show you, Graces. I don't want you to be scared, but-but you need a torch. You have to know what I know to understand. You have to see what I've seen."

She was looking up at him now, her eyes alive with questions that he was scared to answer.

"You don't need to be scared," he promised, brushing some of her tears away and kissing her softly. "I'm going to keep you safe, Graces." Draco drew in a struggling breath. "You're going to be scared. After-after I show you what they do to traitors, to the people who run, but you don't _need_ to be scared. We're not going to run and- and in the end, no matter if I fail or succeed, you're going to walk away from this."

"I don't want to walk away without you."

"You have to." Draco hiccuped. "You have to." Draco pulled her in closer, happy despite himself that she would follow him that far. That she would leave this world with him. He didn't want her to, but it was the fact she would. "Get dressed. I'll wait for you outside. I'll show you where I've been every night."

He stood up from the floor and looked away as Graces stood up with him and wrapped her robe more securely around herself.

"I'll be in the hall. Take your time." He quickly pecked her cheek and left, scared he would lose it again if he looked at her too long. He shut the door of the room and made his way out of the old housing quarters, silently praying this was the right choice and not the selfish one.

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The moment Graces heard the front door click shut she threw off her robe and went to the tub. Two steps behind her followed Neville, the charm off as he tried to find something to say to her. She wiped the tears away from her face and turned the taps on, not even bothering to wait for a comfortable temperature before she began washing.

"Graces, what—"

"I want to be with you," Graces interjected, pausing as she scrubbed her arms. "I want to be with you," she repeated. "I want to be with you, but-but I can't allow you this close into my life. Draco is off limits. We are not going to talk about what just happened and you are not going to so much as wonder about what is happening." She looked up at Neville's brown eyes and saw all the worry he was feeling. "I wish things were different," she said, holding her hand out and taking his. "This is the only way, Neville. I can't tell you my brother's secrets and I feel as though I've already betrayed him by allowing you to see this, but it can't be helped. All I can do now is draw the line."

"He mentioned the safe house. He said—"

"Neville, I'm serious. No more. You can't ask me about this. It's private. It's between Draco and I as a family."

Neville was silent and Graces continued to wash, jumping out of the tub as soon as she was sure there was no lingering scent of sex on her skin. She wrapped a towel around herself as she looked through her clothes.

"Are you going to tell him about us?"

"No." _Just a blouse and pants. I can throw my hair up in a bun._

"He-he said no more secrets."

"Trust me, Neville, he wouldn't understand."

"But he seems like he—"

"You don't know my brother better than I do," Graces snapped, yanking on her blouse. "You don't understand how deep of a betrayal this is. What we have is beautiful in this room, but the moment we bring it out into the light it would be tainted. Draco is never to know. No one is to know. Draco and I are barely hanging on to one another, if he knew about you..." Graces didn't even bother to finish that thought.

Graces felt as though she were grazing a knife against his throat, threatening him into submission, but she didn't care. Draco couldn't know. Especially now.

"I'm sorry," she proclaimed tightly. "I truly am. I still want this, Neville. I want to be with you. Can you respect the line I've drawn?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You do," Graces whispered, looking up at him. "You know you do."

Neville straightened and his jaw tensed.

"That is not going to happen," he swore, his body tight with emotion. "I'm not going anywhere, Graces. I knew you two were in a mess when this started and I'm not leaving you. I'll respect the line, for now," he stipulated. "There will be rules. We will discuss them later."

"What kind of rules?"

"I don't know," Neville gritted. "Give me a few hours to figure all that out."

"I won't talk to you about my brother... or the task," she added, meeting his eyes in challenge.

"We will talk later," Neville repeated, placing his hands on her shoulders. "We will talk later and we will work all of this out. Go be with Draco, just bear in mind we have a lot to talk about as well."

Graces didn't see why she had to talk with Neville about anything. As far as she was concerned this was just going to remain separate. He should pretend he hadn't seen it, but she knew there was no arguing with Neville when his face was that stern. She ground her teeth for a moment, before turning towards the door.

She had just made it to the living room when Neville swept up in front of her and kissed her hard on the mouth. She wanted to push him away, but her heart wouldn't let her. It was a promise, a promise that despite herself she needed. He was going to be there.

"Take care of your brother," he whispered pulling away. "If you can't return tonight, so be it. Take care of Draco." She nodded and moved to leave, but Neville held on to her. His warm, honey eyes meeting her silver as he thought. "You two are oddly close." Graces scowled, but Neville just shrugged. "I just never realized how oddly close you were until earlier."

Graces thought of Theo and how jealous he had always been of Draco's relationship with her. Neville wasn't a part of her world, they had their own little world, making it so he never saw the one she had with Draco.

"Your point?" she challenged.

"Just mentioning it," Neville shrugged, kissing her forehead. "Don't hesitate if you need me. If I'm not here I'll be in the Tower, just owl."

Graces couldn't stop scowling, but she nodded. When she reached the door Neville was nowhere in sight. She took another deep breath before opening the door.

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Graham rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared at the vanishing cabinet without any real thoughts. He was beyond exhausted and was at the point where he couldn't think straight. He had no idea how to fix the damn cabinet and Draco didn't either. Most nights he felt they as though they were just staring at the cabinet together so they wouldn't have to be alone with their thoughts.

He had a few books sprawled out in front of him with an endless list of charms to repair things, but he didn't even know where to begin. Merlin only knew what was wrong with the damn thing. He wished Draco's attempt to use poison had worked. Fucking Neville Longbottom, if he ever got the bloke alone he would punch him in the nose for being such a clumsy fool.

_Or maybe I should just shove him into the closet and let him disappear._ Graham still did not know what happened to the objects he put in the cabinet. With the cabinet broken they seemed to just lay in a sort of limbo somewhere. He had no idea where they went to and a chill ran down his spine as he remembered Fred and George Weasley had put him in this contraption. He was lucky to still be sitting here now.

He heard the wall begin to shift and knew Draco was back. He didn't bother looking over as the other boy entered. He was still staring at the cabinet waiting for it to give him some hint as he called back a greeting.

"Any progress?" Draco asked.

"Nope. Not at all." Graham frowned as he heard the echo of multiple steps and not just Draco's. He turned around and was unable to hide his surprise at seeing Graces. He didn't think Draco was actually going to listen to him about telling his sister everything. If he knew one thing about Malfoys it was they were set in their own ways. He quickly stood up from his chair and inclined his head to greet her. With each passing day the cabinet was nowhere close to being fixed the engagement ring Narcissa had given him weighed heavily in his pocket.

"No need to be so formal, Graham," Draco scoffed, moving over to the pensieve they kept down there to help gather their thoughts.

Graham tried not to let his embarrassment show as Graces passed him, but he was sure she saw. Being formal with her was the only way he knew how to interact with her now. He had no idea how to talk to Graces with their impending joining hanging over him. He was afraid if he was himself he would be too abrupt. He knew what it was like to lose a beloved sibling, knew that death looked friendly in that darkness. He didn't want to add a marriage that made her want to die as well. And he certainly couldn't be open with her. If he was open with her she may see that in some ways he resented her, resented her because she wasn't who he wanted. She wasn't Wamil.

"What are you doing?" Graham asked, realizing that Draco was putting memories in the pensieve.

"You said she should know everything. So I'm letting her know everything."

Graham looked over at Graces who seemed to be just as apprehensive as he felt.

"I don't think there is a need to _show_ her, Draco."

"I disagree," Draco sighed, looking up at him and gesturing for him to come closer. "I would appreciate your memories as well."

Graham took a step back and swallowed the bile that came up from his stomach and burned his throat.

"No."

"She should see," Draco insisted. Graham didn't move. "You don't have to show her _everything,_ " Draco stressed, alluding that he could leave out all he had been made to do. "But I want her to see why a safe house isn't an option."

"Draco," Graham began cautiously. "I—"

"I want to see," Graces interjected, her eyes meeting his. "Please, Graham. Don't keep me in the dark."

It didn't feel right, but Graham took a step forward. He thought about his sister, about how maybe if she had all the information it would have impacted her decision. Terrence must not have known how bad things could have been. If another family had been slaughtered first, if he had seen the blood, maybe he would have felt differently too. He gave Draco his memories and wondered if he was sealing himself to Graces, wondered if after she saw what he had seen her mind would change about them getting married. If he was in her situation he would marry someone tomorrow to get out of facing this kind of death.

Draco entered the pensieve first, but before Graces could dip her head in he stopped her.

"You can't unsee this," he whispered. "This is going to change you. I never knew what a thestral looked like until this year. Seeing death changes you. The pictures of the Higgs were horrifying, but it's nothing compared to actually being there. If you go in there it will feel real."

Graces stared at him for a moment and Graham could have sworn her eyes held pity not for herself but for him.

"Do you want to know a secret, Graham? One Draco doesn't even know." Graham frowned, but waited for Graces to continue. The blonde looked over at her brother for a brief moment, making sure he couldn't hear her, before she leaned in close to him. So close that her lips brushed his ear. "I knew what a thestral looked like since the moment I got off the Hogwarts Express my first year."

Graham could barely breathe as Graces lowered herself down from her toes and walked over to the pensieve. She didn't even hesitate as she dipped her head in with her brother's and Graham stood there for hours watching as Draco showed her all the horrors that he and Graham knew. He stared at her face and wondered how she would look at him when she emerged. What she would think of him after she knew how he had just stood there and watched as people were tortured, killed and sometimes even worse. For the first time since his sister's death he was glad he would never see her again. He didn't want to see the way Arella would have looked at him.


	71. Chapter 71

Graces stared up at Gryffindor tower from edge of the Forbidden Forest. She breathed in the crisp air and let her mind float with the small bits of snow falling softly down like stardust from the gods. The world was beautiful. People were ugly, but the world kept its immortal gleam. She had been standing under the canopy of branches for hours watching nothing but the snow fall and hearing only the soft whispers of the wind.

Her thumb rubbed the arch of her broomstick and she felt the wood hum from the touch. She closed her eyes as the wind, moon and stars called to her, beckoned her to cast off her worries into the open sky and leave them for the gods. But she still wasn't ready, not yet. She needed to feel and remember everything for a little longer.

She hadn't cried when she emerged from the pensieve. She was shaking like a leaf and she lost her stomach a few times, but she kept the tears at bay. She wasn't sure how she did it, but she did. Both boys had kept their eyes carefully on her, as though they suspected worse than her just losing her breakfast on the castle floor.

The images and screams still echoed in the crevices of her mind. She tried not to let the memories get too near to her thoughts, but when she pushed them away she was left with Graham's haunted eyes. He had not said a word to her all through Draco's quiet explanations and Draco didn't ask him to. Of all the memories she saw Graham's were the worst of them. Draco had seen death and torture, but Graham had bore witness to atrocities that made her thank the gods her brother had not allowed them to run away.

When she had finally left the Room of Requirement, thankful to be alone and have a moment, Graham had hurried after her. At first she had just stood there in the hall waiting for him to say something, but after a few moments she understood he wanted her to say something to him.

"There was nothing you could have done, Graham," she rasped, the image of a girl only five years her senior being dragged by her hair naked into an empty room for a fate worse than death was seared into her very soul. "Nothing."

"You once said that Snape would burn in hell for the evil he had allowed," Graham murmured quietly into the darkness of the hall. "I've made peace with what I will face in the afterlife. My only concern now is whether you could have peace being by my side in this life."

"What you did, you did for your family," Graces reminded, her voice ringing in the silence as she walked over towards him. "There was nothing you could have done for any of those people, Graham. Nothing. Any act to save them would have been condemning your own loved ones. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

" _I've_ killed people, Graces." If Graham was the type of bloke to cry, Graces was sure he would have shed a tear at that statement. "My hands have been caked in blood. It's more than I just allowed evil to happen. I've done evil."

"What you have done is saved your family," Graces stressed, taking Graham's hand in her own. "That's not evil, Graham. And I for one am proud to call you my friend and honored that you would even think to have me as anything more."

Graham had stood there staring at her for what seemed like eternity. It was different looking into Graham's face. He showed nothing. It wasn't like when she looked into Neville's and could see and feel what he was thinking. When she looked up at Graham she was lost. She hoped her words helped him, prayed she had given him peace, but there was no way to tell. Graham had just taken his hand out of hers and turned back to the room to join Draco.

There was no smile, no nod of acknowledgment, nothing. He just took his hand away and left.

The cold around her seemed to increase at the memory and Graces pulled her cloak closer to her body before looking back up at the soft glow from the window of the tower. It was well into the night now. She had spent the afternoon and evening mulling over all that she now knew. She avoided going back to the room. She wasn't ready to face Neville, to answer his questions and listen to what he had to say.

So she had gone to the dungeons, grabbed her winter clothes and headed out to the Quidditch pitch for her broom, but she had yet to take off from the ground. She just walked around the grounds and considered everything about her situation. Flying was a release and she wasn't ready to let go yet. She wasn't ready to feel whole.

It was during her long aimless walking that she noticed the light on in Gryffindor tower. And from the moment she saw it, she wasn't able to walk far enough away for it to be out of sight. It had to be Neville in the room. There were no other students in the castle. She wondered why he chose to be there and not in the room they shared.

She moved closer to the tower, the snow crunching beneath her boots as the wind blew around her body, calling her to play. Her heart felt too heavy, too sore, too drained to be able to let go. But the wind didn't care. It continued to call.

She reached her gloved hand out and touched the gray stone of the tower. She could fly up there right now and knock on the window. Neville was less than a moment away from her. She would have to face him eventually. Maybe it would be easier to face him now, now when they had the whole night and an open sky.

Before she could overthink her decision she mounted her broom and pushed up, slowing down as she neared the window.

Neville was lying in his bed scowling up at the ceiling with his arms crossed. He was still fully dressed. Even his shoes had remained on his feet and though it may look like he was laying down relaxing Graces could see the tension rippling off him. She had a feeling that he was going through everything he was going to ask and talk to her about. Her stomach clenched and the idea of quietly drifting back down to the ground flitted through her mind a few times, but in the end she knocked quietly on the window pane and held her breath as Neville sat up from his bed and stared out at her.

She awkwardly raised her hand in a greeting and it took Neville a few moments to grasp the fact that she was there on her broom, outside the tower, waiting for him, but he eventually stood and opened the window.

"Hi," she offered nervously, unsure what else to say or where to start.

"Hi."

Graces waited for him to say more, but he just stood there in the window staring at her.

"Are you going to invite me in?" Neville hesitated and looked back into the room unsurely, but after a moment he nodded and moved to allow her entrance. Graces moved to go through the window and hissed with pain as her head smacked into the window sill.

She damned her bad eye as Neville caught her hand and helped her through the window. She wouldn't have fallen to the ground, she didn't hit herself that hard. Hell she had been hit harder by bludgers and not fallen off her broom, but it didn't stop that moment of sheer terror from touching Neville's face.

She blushed as Neville kept asking how she could fly her head straight into the wall like that. She mumbled about how she wasn't paying attention, refusing to reveal the truth that she had kept hidden for the past few months. Living without depth perception was an everyday challenge. Some days she wished she could let her pride go and take a fake eye and other days that thought seemed too cruel to bear.

She hissed and smacked away Neville's hand as he went to examine the goose egg forming on her brow.

"It's just a bump."

Neville stared at her incredulously for a few moments, before dropping his hands to his sides. Graces lifted a brow to the amount of effort that small movement seemed to take from him and entered more into the room. It was exactly what she expected, really, disgustingly decked out in Gryffindor colors and completely unkempt.

"You Gryffindor boys are messy," she murmured, her hand moving to a near bed whose curtains seemed to have been bundled hurriedly.

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Neville did his best not to cringe as Graces' hands touched Harry's bed curtains. He felt his throat go dry as her eyes surveyed all that was around her. He never thought of this part of Graces, the cold, regal part, the part that screamed Lucius and Narcissa. He saw her as just Graces, but now... seeing her near Harry's bed, knowing that she had just been in another part of the castle discussing Death Eater business... Neville felt sick as her hands grazed against Harry's nightstand.

Graces eyes turned upward and her silver orbs met his and a flash of something shone there, before she removed her hand and just stared at him.

He knew she was waiting for him to say something, he felt like she was daring him to say something. He swallowed hard and kept his mouth shut. Graces let out a slow breath and moved away from Harry's area, her steps silent with rage.

"If you didn't trust me to be here all you would have had to do is say you would meet me elsewhere." Her words were gentle, but Neville could feel the razors in them.

"I trust you to be here," Neville murmured quietly. "I wouldn't have allowed you in if I didn't. We wouldn't be together if I didn't. I trust you."

Graces turned and Neville held his breath as she seemed to be calculating her words.

"You trust me. You just are aware of what I'm capable of," she whispered, turning her head away from him and towards Dean's bed. She lifted the photo he had on his nightstand and examined the faces looking up at her from the glossy unmoving paper.

"Dean has a lot of sisters," she commented dryly, placing the photo down. "Seven. How outrageous. I thought the Weasleys were bad." Neville shrugged and again tried to ignore his nerves. "All muggle... no touch of magic?"

"They have a different father," Neville rasped, coughing to clear his throat and restore some vibrato in his voice. "Dean suspects his father must have been a wizard... but he ran off when his mother was pregnant. She had him and he got his letter, so it's assumed he was a wizard. A coward of one too, if you ask me," Neville declared harshly. "Leaving a woman that's with his child. It couldn't have been easy for her. But, um, Dean's stepfather is a very good man. Dean says he's always treated him like his own, even adopted him when he married his mum."

Graces nodded and placed the silver frame down, her eyes distant as wheels seemed to turn in her head.

"Maybe he didn't run off. Maybe he's dead."

Neville scowled, but didn't get the chance to ask any questions, seeing as Graces seemed to be done with the conversation. She moved around his bed like a cold wind on a sunny day. There was something so sad about her and at the same time so timeless and beautiful. He knew he should still be wary, but he also knew her and the girl he knew wouldn't deceive him like that. Others, in a heartbeat, but not him. He believed he had earned the privilege of being close with her and with that privilege was fierce loyalty.

"I was going to go flying this evening and I was wondering if you would like to join me."

Neville felt his mouth drop and quickly shut in.

"You want me to fly with you?" he asked a bit panicked. Graces inclined her head slightly and continued waiting for an answer. "You're serious."

"I am."

"Do you not remember me in flying lessons?"

"You can join me on my broom. I'll fly."

"Absolutely not," Neville cried, his cheeks turning the same maroon as the curtains.

Part of Graces' lips quivered in a smirk, but she schooled it away before offering Neville her brother's broom.

"Your brother would murder me if he ever found out I rode his broom."

"Then I will ride his and you can ride mine."

"I'm an awful flyer," Neville reminded, going back to the heart of the argument.

"And yet you refuse to let me fly. You really are being unreasonable, Longbottom," Graces quipped, her lips now unable to hide her smirk.

"Stop toying with me. You can't seriously want me to fly with you."

Neville was definitely panicking. The same feeling he had all of first year before each flying lesson was creeping up on him. He felt sick remembering himself wobbling on that damn broom, up in the air with all of his classmates while the Slytherins laughed at him. Neville's cheeks began burning even brighter when he remembered Graces herself making fun of him. Damn if she wasn't a vicious little thing.

"I do want you to fly with me," Graces began gently. "I need to be up there tonight. I need the open air and the feeling of being small. I need to think and I want you to be there with me." Neville looked up to see all the humor and teasing gone from Graces' face and the blonde stared at him hopefully. "Please come with me, Neville. I realize we have much to discuss and-and I don't think I could bear it here. I've always loved flying. I like being away from the ground and up near the heavens. It makes me feel... _brave_ ," Graces settled slowly. "As though I am capable of doing and saying anything. I feel daring and invisible up there, that's probably why I take risks on the Quidditch pitch and why I'm not afraid of quaffles going to my head."

"The things you are going to say to me, your _rules,_ they frighten me. The things I've learned about tonight—" Graces stopped short and her eyes went somewhere unknown. "I need to be up there. Will you come with me? I don't care that you're not a good flyer," she whispered. "I just care that you're near."

Neville didn't know why he agreed, but he did. Maybe it was how hushed her voice was, how dead her eyes seemed, or maybe it was because he loved her and he could never say no to her. Especially when she whispered please and I just care that you're near. So that's how he ended up with Graces' broom above the great lake staring at the all-seeing moon. Graces hadn't said a word since they left the tower and something about the way she looked told him he shouldn't speak until she began.

The air around them was biting, even fully bundled with warming charms he could feel the frost nipping away at him, but Graces didn't even shiver. She just sat on her broom looking out over the lake. If Neville wasn't concentrating so hard on maintaining his balance on the broom he may have found the sight around him stunning, the moon high in the sky setting the snow on the ground shimmering, but he was so focused on staying in the sky and the girl a few feet above him that he didn't care about the transcendent beauty around him.

Neville wished she would speak, wished she would look down at him and say something. Hell, at this point he even wished she would cry. This felt wrong, all wrong. Her unnatural stillness, her vacant stares, it wasn't Graces. He felt like someone had ripped her soul out of her and he desperately wanted it back. He had tried to gain her attention a few times, saying her name to wake her up from this trance, but she didn't stir. She just continued staring.

"I won't tell you anything about what my brother and I discussed tonight," she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the navy blue waters far off in the distance. "There is nothing to discuss on that end and demanding answers from me on that will only make me walk away." Neville looked up at her through the ringing silence that was piercing his ears. No hint of emotion, just cold. "I love my brother. Draco is everything to me. I won't betray him."

Graces looked away from the scene before her down to her hands gripping her broom, the first sign of emotion touching her face. "I'm a poor excuse for a sister," she rasped, her lips tightening into a straight line at the declaration. "Truly I am. I'm a liar and-and I've been so selfish. I have taken pleasure where I could when my brother had nothing. I should have been there more for him. I should have tried harder when he pushed me away. I should have—" Graces' voice trailed off and Neville shakily moved closer to her, placing a hand on her back despite the fact it caused him to feel more out of control on the broom. "I feel like a whore," Graces choked.

Neville almost toppled off the broom and immediately cried out his protests, but Graces just shook her head and silenced him with her hand.

"It doesn't matter what you say because it's how I feel." She shook. "I've betrayed my brother and have no intentions of stopping or telling him. I've just thought of _my_ wants and _my_ needs and sought comfort and escape in the most carnal way imaginable. I've taken you to bed countless times and left my brother alone in the most awful of situations."

"Graces—"

"I was just so... lost. So lost," Graces whispered, closing her eyes to keep the tears at bay. "It felt good to leave my troubles and let you take them away for an hour. It-it gave an hour to regroup. After I could think straight and not want to just sink in my sadness. It let me sleep at night. Gods damn me I just wanted to sleep," she ended morosely.

Neville wanted to hold her. He wanted to pull her in and tell her that she was wrong. That what she did was not any sort of betrayal. It was her business and there was nothing wrong with needing an escape from a situation she was far too young to be dealing with. He wanted to tell her that any god that damned her wasn't worth the dirt she kneeled on, but every time he reached to hold her he felt like he was about to fall off his broom.

"You are not a traitor," he growled fiercely. "You are not a whore. Any god that says otherwise isn't a god worth worshipping." Neville grabbed her broom handle to force her eyes onto his. "You have betrayed no one. Who you take to bed is your business. Just like it's my business that I take you to bed and sleep in the same room as Harry Potter. Just as it is my business I hold you and then go home to my family and hold them. I realize that you have this very twisted way of viewing family loyalty, but—Graces, look at me—you have done nothing wrong. Just as I have done nothing wrong."

"And what we have—" Neville continued, pulling her broom up to his and gently caressing her cheek. "—has left the realm of just carnal, if it was ever only that to begin with." He could feel her breath mingling with his own and his heart broke as her silver eyes looked to him hopefully, like she wanted to believe everything he just said. "I would kiss you now, but I'm terrified to lean in. I'm pretty sure I will lose my balance on this damn thing."

Graces let out a sad laugh, but didn't lean in. She just let their breath continue to mingle in the freezing air.

"What are your conditions?" she asked quietly, her body rigid with apprehension.

Neville could feel his heart clench as she braced herself for his words and he moved his hand to hers.

"I'm not going anywhere, Graces," he promised. "I'm just saying what I need from this."

"And if I refuse to give it?"

"We will have a lot of long nights. Yelling may be involved."

Neville didn't know if he could call Graces expression a smile, but it was close and there was definite relief at hearing his words.

"I told you once I would never ask for more than you could give," he reminded. "I will respect your boundaries. And that means I won't ask you to tell me what Draco is doing, but, like I said, I do have conditions."

Graces took a shuddering breath and nodded for Neville to continue.

"Did-did you know the Weasley's were going to be attacked on Christmas?"

Graces shook her head and Neville let out a relieved breath. She didn't know. He hadn't realized how much it was killing him internally thinking that she had known and said nothing.

"Thank Merlin," he breathed, leaning back on his broom and closing his eyes.

"But," Graces began quietly, sending a flutter of fear in his heart. "I wouldn't have told you if I did."

And there it was, what they had allowed themselves to forget time and time again. They were divided. It was easy to forget about the war and the people surrounding them when they were alone and in their own little world, but after earlier reality had invaded their dream world.

"My other condition—" Neville began, now worried that Graces would refuse. "—is that you have to tell me if my friends and family are in danger."

Graces sighed and looked up at the stars as she chewed the inside of her lip. Neville could feel his palms become sweaty and his nerves were so much that he was almost shaking. He was too scared to so much as breath as Graces seemed to be considering his request. No, not considering. Fighting a battle to say no.

"I will always tell you if your family is in danger," she nodded. "I would have done _that_ even without your request, but your friends..." Neville swallowed hard as Graces' voice trailed off. "I will give you three," she promised. "Name three friends, any beside Harry Potter. I can give you three."

"Why not all?" Neville demanded, his heart unable to choose just three of his friends worth living. "Why—"

"Because we are at war, Neville, and a good number of your friends will die by the end of it. If I gave you all I would be added to the list of dead. My brother's heart couldn't take that and Thomas and Octavian need me. All would get me caught. This is treason," Graces reminded. "I'm agreeing to be disloyal to one of the most powerful wizards ever to be born. Three is a great risk for me and I am giving it to you."

When she said it like that Neville felt wrong asking for the three. But he couldn't bear not asking.

"Choose wisely," Graces reminded, her voice giving no hints.

"Luna." That one was easy. He of course would choose Luna first, but the others... The others were far harder. He felt wrong doing this, rating the people in his life, choosing some of his friends to potentially save and leaving the rest. "Hermione." It should be Hermione, Neville told himself. She was a great friend and-and she was muggleborn. Muggleborn and friends with Harry Potter, she needed the protection. Neville thought of Harry. He couldn't choose him, but he wished he could. He wanted to save him if it came to it. Just like he was willing to give his life in the Ministry for him, he wanted to help him again. Harry was hope. _And Harry needs Ron._ "And Ro—"

"Ron is a pureblood and his family was just attacked," Graces interrupted. "I bet anything they are very prepared for anything else to come. A whole family filled with witches and wizards." Neville stared at the blonde, unsure of what she meant. "There are other people around you, Neville. People who are much more defenceless. People who when the Dark Lord begins taking over will have no way to defend themselves, people who will be at the mercy of the merciless."

"Are-are you suggesting I choose a—" Neville paused as he let his mind form around what Graces' was insinuating. "—muggleborn?" Graces didn't reply. She just waited for him to make his final choice. The problem was Neville didn't know who that should be. There were so many people he could think of. Seamus was a half-blood, so by what Graces was saying he was in less danger than Dean. But Hannah's mother was in fact a muggle, married to a wizard from a pureblood family. She may be the same blood status as Seamus, but many people like the Malfoys did not agree with Mr. Abbott marrying a muggle and bringing her into their world.

"Colin Creevey." Neville decided at last. Graces frowned at the choice, but Neville just shrugged. "He's just a kid," he murmured. "And he's muggleborn. His parents know nothing about this world and-and have no way of protecting him from what's to come."

Graces nodded and her voice broke as she proclaimed his younger brother would be included as well. Neville opened his mouth to thank her, but closed it. It felt wrong to thank her for this. This wasn't much. He couldn't help but think of everyone else. He didn't dare demand more though. She was right. This was a huge risk on her part.

"The spell is broken, isn't it?" Graces asked quietly, staring at nothing and yet seeming to see everything. "Our small little world where we could put this all behind, where we could just be happy for a few hours. It's gone, isn't it, cast off into the shadows that waited to swallow it up."

Neville stared at the girl before him. The world could never see what he saw in her. They couldn't feel how his heart beat for her.

"The shadows were always there," he began, his mind clearing for the first time that night. "Reality has swallowed us before and it will again and again. But Graces," Neville reached out his hand and held her's tight. "We have a light, and happiness can always be found if one only remembers to turn on the light."

Graces was silent for a few moments before turning her silver eyes to his.

"Did you just quote Dumbledore to me?" she deadpanned.

"Yeah, I did," Neville grinned. "Wise man."

A brief something flashed across her face before she looked away; a whole new onslaught of tears causing her to shake. Neville didn't know what he should do or say, but before he could attempt a thing Graces' arms were around him and she was holding him like an anchor held down a ship. Or maybe he was the anchor and she was the ship. Maybe he was the one anchoring her. Either way he held her just as tight, not caring that he was surely going to fall off his broom if she let go.

"There will come a time when you will hate me," she sobbed, hugging him so hard he couldn't breathe. "You will hate me, Neville. Trust me, you will hate me. And-and when that time comes I want you to know I will understand. I will understand and I will never forget you. You will be free to hate and loathe me your whole life, but-but I will miss you for the rest of mine."

"Graces, what—"

"I will miss you," Graces repeated, pulling away slightly so he could see her tear streaked face. "My lover... my friend. I will miss you and I want you to know when the time comes, I will hate myself just as much."

"I will never hate you," Neville swore, one of his hands finding it's way into her soft hair. "Never," he whispered savagely. "Whatever you say. Whatever you do. I will never hate you, Graces Malfoy."

"Even when I'm a Death Eater?" Graces challenged.

"Even when you're a _pawn_."

Neville didn't know how long it took him to get Graces down from the sky. It took what felt like a solid hour, but he was sure it was more like fifteen minutes. All she did was cry, and hold him and he slowly and very ungracefully descended down to the snowy ground where she cried even more and let him hold her in his lap as she shattered the quiet with her desperate cries. A few times she begged him to repeat what he had said and eventually Neville just continued to whisper that he would never hate her, that she was a pawn and after a while he added Draco. He didn't know what made him include Draco in his promises, but something told him to.

_Two sides of the same coin._ It had rang in his ears all day. They were a package deal, and though he knew nothing really about Draco, though the Slytherin had no inkling of his true involvement with his sister, Neville did feel something for the other boy. He felt connected with him. He hadn't really before, but seeing him with Graces, hearing the way they talked and spoke to one another... It was weird, but he knew that he and Graces were too intertwined. If he loved her, he had to care about Draco. The evils Draco would do needed to be forgiven just as easily as he would forgive her for her sins. He didn't know what was to come, what this task was, why she believed he was going to hate her, or why Draco believed that he was damned. But he did know he needed to love the way Graces and Draco loved, unconditionally, with everything he had, and he had to love both of them.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Images continued to flash before her eyes as Neville carried her back to the room. She had stopped sobbing, but it didn't stop a few tears from spilling out. Neville didn't ask any questions, as she had stipulated. He just carried her through the castle and held her close to his chest. She wasn't broken. She knew she wasn't broken. She had just once again been brought to her knees. She was strong in front of Draco, in front of Graham. She had been strong those months ago for Thomas and Octavian, but she didn't have to be strong now. She was with Neville now and she could trust him to be her strength.

It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. Neville didn't deserve this. One morning he would wake up with the news that Albus Dumbledore was dead... dead at the hands of the Malfoy twins, and he would hate her. She nuzzled her nose into Neville's chest and tried not to let that feeling overwhelm her. She would deserve that hate, deserve it for aiding in killing a good man and deserve it for allowing another good man to care about her when she was not deserving of it.

When they walked into the little apartment in their corner of the world Neville carried her straight into the bathroom. He sat down on the toilet with her and slowly began drawing her a warm bath. Graces watched from the crook of his neck as he poured in the oil he had made for her and checked the temperature of the water, never once putting her down or using his other arm. He worked silently, with purpose. She couldn't bring herself to say anything. She was scared if she opened her mouth she would tell him what she saw in the pensieve, that she would bring all the horrors she had seen out into the light and beg him to take her away.

And she knew that Neville would do just that. He would pack her things, his things and get Draco Thomas and Octavian and whisk them away to the safe house where they would be safe for a few weeks, maybe months if they were lucky, before they were caught. Before they were caught and-and—

"Graces," Neville whispered gently. His voice drew her away from the images that flashed in her mind of what happened to traitors. "You're shaking."

"Cold," she lied, deciding that it didn't matter anymore if she lied. Being a liar was the least of the sins she would commit.

"Let's get you warm then." Neville's soft kiss on her cheek made her feel sick with guilt, but she didn't protest as he kissed her again on her lips, because as much as it swarmed her with guilt, it also made her heart lighter.

She watched him the whole time he undressed her, taking in every part of him. The curve of his jaw, the color of his hair, the shape of his nose, the tender way he unbuttoned her blouse, the way he held her feet for a moment after taking off her socks, determined to warm her soles. She didn't want to forget any small detail of him. When he was gone she wanted the memories.

He lowered her into the water the way her father use to lower her into bed and a lump grew in her throat as she imagined Neville older with a child of his own. She envied the woman he would marry and she envied her children for having the father she had always wanted for her own. She could have loved him in another life. She knew that now. She could haved loved Neville Longbottom. She would have loved and adored him. She would have married him as soon as she graduated from being a healer and given him as many children as his heart desired. They would have had a fairytale love. Like her mother and father, maybe even greater because he didn't kill people for fun, but it could never be.

She could never love Neville. She would never choose him over others. Love meant everything. She loved Draco with everything. There was not one thing she wouldn't do for Draco, but there were many things she wouldn't do for Neville. She would never choose him. Choosing him meant turning her back on Draco, and she wouldn't do that. She wasn't even willing to tell him if his friends were in danger. She only gave him three. It was going to tear him apart, watching his friends slowly disappear. She knew the Dark Lord was going to start rounding up muggleborns and halfbloods as soon as possible once he got the Ministry. If she loved him she would warn him now. She would tell him everything she knew. She would tell him about how Dumbledore was going to die, how the motions had been set to gain the Ministry and from there he could plan. He could save the people he loved and-and there would be no secrets between them.

"I have one more request," Neville breathed, moving the sponge to her shoulder and showering that area with warmth and soap.

"Oh," Graces rasped, her heart already pounding.

"You have to believe me." Graces frowned and looked over to where Neville was kneeling. "Believe that no matter what is to come I won't hate you. Believe that-that I am aware of what is ahead and that I want to be here. Because I do, Graces. I want to be here and I will be here for as long as you want me."

Graces turned away, but Neville pulled her chin back towards him.

"I want us to be together. I want to be your safe haven from whatever haunts you."

"Neville, you don't—"

"Don't let this ruin us," he begged, his hands now holding hers. "Don't."

"I want us to be happy," he continued. "And I know that now is not the time or the place, but I don't care. I don't want us to slip into something tragic when things are getting so good. Stay with me. Let this be our safe haven, Graces. Please."

"Turn on the light," Graces whispered, thinking of the quote.

"We can keep the shadows at bay together."

He said it with so much conviction that she found herself believing it for a moment. And maybe they could.

"You need this," Neville reminded. "You need an escape. And I want to be it. I want to make you smile, Graces. I want to make you happy. Let me continue making you happy."

"It's not that simple, Neville," she sniffed, her throat filled with gravel. "If you knew what I knew, if you saw what I saw... you would understand."

"Let me try."

"You want to be my escape? You want this to be... what exactly? An escape from reality?"

"Why not?"

"It's not real then, Neville."

"It's more real," Neville countered. "This is us. This is real. What you are out there is a lie. What you are in here is the truth."

"It shouldn't be like this," Neville continued, his voice shaking from rage. "It's not right. You're being forced into this war, forced to be someone you don't want to be. You have to pretend everyday in the halls. You wear an endless array of masks. In front of Draco you even have to wear a mask." Graces held her breath to keep from breaking at the truth in Neville's words. "I want this to be a place where you can just be you. I want to be the person you can be yourself with."

"I-I want to be teenagers," he proclaimed a bit more quietly. "Not war-ridden teenagers... Normal teenagers. At least for a few hours a day."

"You could be a normal teenager everyday," Graces reminded quietly. "If you left, you could be normal everyday."

"I wasn't happy without you."

"That's not true," Graces shook. "You—"

"I was lonely. I was alone. I felt like everything I said was under a microscope. I was so lonely."

It hurt. She was surprised how much it hurt to hear Neville say he had been hurting. She remembered him telling her he was lonely, but now hearing it... She could feel his soul calling to hers almost. She wanted to caress his face, but he was still holding her hands and he was holding them so tight now that she didn't dare move them.

"Please believe me when I tell you I want this. I want you. Nothing of what is to come will change that. Believe me when I say I want this to continue, that I want to be your escape. And believe me when I say that it is not solely for your benefit. I want you, Graces."

She didn't know what to say. All she could focus on was his eyes and his mother's ring on her finger, his mother's ring that he was gently rubbing with his thumb as he held her hands. Neville begged her to agree and seeing his eyes begin to water was what pushed her to say yes. She may not be able to give him everything, but she wanted to give him what she could. She didn't believe for a second he would not hate her when Dumbledore died, but she nodded anyways.

Neville let out some sound of relief before his lips found hers. She wanted him to stay and continue kissing her, but he broke away telling her to come out when she was ready, promising to be just outside of the door waiting. She wondered why he was giving her this moment alone, but Neville didn't wait for a response. He just left.

Graces sat in the tub for a moment before deciding she didn't want to be alone. She had been alone all evening. Now she just wanted to have Neville near. She found a towel and wrapped it around herself before leaving the bathroom. She didn't glance at the mirror, not wanting to see herself, she walked into the lonely bedroom and pulled on her robe from earlier, not wanting to be alone for even long enough to put on any real clothes.

When she walked out of the bedroom she realized it wasn't for her benefit that Neville had left her alone. It was for his. He was leaning over the kitchen sink, his shoulders tight as he braced himself over the running water. She took a step back, thinking she should just go in the bedroom and wait a few moments, but Neville turned and saw her before she could leave.

She looked down and held the robe around her tighter.

"I'm sorry... I didn't realize. I just didn't want to be alone," she trailed off softly. "I didn't realize you did."

Neville nodded and silently picked up two goblets from the kitchen and set them on the coffee table before the couch. Graces hesitated in walking towards him. He wanted to be alone and she interrupted, she didn't feel like sitting on the couch with him was what he wanted, but he gestured for her to join so she did.

"I brought some wine from home," Neville smiled tightly. "I thought it would be nice for me to surprise you and later for us to open some wine by the fire and just talk."

"Sorry," Graces replied smally, knowing none of this was what Neville expected.

"Don't be. I'm not."

A pregnant silence engulfed them. Neville stayed a good distance from her on the couch and in the awkwardness Graces reached for her goblet of wine.

It was too tart. The flavor didn't sing with notes of raspberries, it shouted. Far too overpowering, too real. Part of wine was the illusion, the hints. There was bold, but this wasn't bold. It was a smack.

"Do you like it?" Neville asked, taking a small sip himself.

Graces nodded, making sure not to let her mouth pucker from the distaste that assaulted her mouth. She made a note to bring some real wine one night, to show Neville what wine should taste like.

"Our neighbor makes it." Neville smiled shyly. "It's sort of a hobby of his. He started making wine 20 years ago. I thought you would enjoy this one. I'm told it goes well with chocolate."

Graces offered Neville a small smile and forced herself to take another sip before setting the goblet down.

"Why did you want to be alone?" she asked boldly.

Neville's face paled slightly and he looked away as he gathered his Gryffindor courage.

"Because... because I was scared about what I would do if I stayed," he revealed slowly.

Graces frowned at Neville's statement, before asking if he wanted to hurt her.

Neville choked on the wine he was drinking and set down the goblet as he laughed.

"No," he snorted. "The opposite. I was very near to hoisting you out of that tub and well... you can guess what I wanted to do from there."

"But... but you looked upset when I walked out."

"I was upset," Neville nodded. "I felt bad for even thinking about that with you so upset. With everything that has happened today... I felt bad that my thoughts went there."

"So, you left to cool down?" Graces summarized, a little surprised.

"Well, I couldn't very well take a cold shower with you in there, now could I?" Neville smirked, taking another sip to hide how red his cheeks had become.

Graces smiled, her first real smile of the evening. It was so... normal. A true teenager thing.

"If you would have continued kissing me I may have wanted you to," she said slyly, taking her own sip of wine to hide her cheeks.

Neville looked up at her with a small smile and then looked back down into his glass. He moved closer to her after that, and though they said no words to one another she felt they spoke volumes. She laid against his chest, his left arm draped around her and they sipped the awful wine until there was none left. They just sat. Graces didn't think of anything and it seemed Neville wasn't thinking of anything either. She fell asleep eventually and woke to Neville tucking her into bed.

"Are you not tired?" she mumbled, sinking down more into the sheets as sleep tried to pull her back in.

"Exhausted," Neville chuckled.

"Then why are you not getting in bed?"

Neville stilled and looked at the other pillow next to her.

"I—" Neville cleared his throat awkwardly, before standing taller. "This is _your_ room," he began. "I didn't give you this place so we could be together. I gave it to you, so you could sleep and... I wasn't going to intrude. I know you don't like us sleeping together. Well, sleep sleeping. I believe you said it was—"

"That was before," Graces interrupted, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I want you here. I want this to be _our_ place. Come to bed."

Neville still didn't move, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and chewed his lip.

"I—do you feel like-like if that was the case, if it was our place and not just yours, that it's a bit fast?"

"Fast?"

Neville shrugged and mumbled out a series of words that were all so jumbled Graces had a hard time seeing his point until, he blushed even redder and tried to explain again. She could barely hear him, but she did catch two words he stuttered in the mess of words. _Living together_.

She hadn't really thought of it like that. She supposed she could see how he would see it that way though. Maybe it was that way.

"If that makes you uncomfortable I understand," she said evenly. "But I don't mind at all. I suppose I don't think of it that way. I just see it as us spending time together. We won't have that during the day. All we will have is the night come school and I don't want to be alone. Are you uncomfortable?"

"Yes," Neville admitted. "But not because I don't want to. I just... I think I would get on your nerves if I was here. Well, not here, but if I, you know, had this place as mine as well, if it became our place."

"You won't get on my nerves."

"You alphabetized those books I gave you," Neville pointed out. "You lay your Herbology supplies out perfectly. You hang up your clothes nicely."

"Longbottom, shut up and come to bed," Graces scoffed, laying back down and closing her eyes. Neville seemed unsure, but after a moment he took off his trousers and shirt. He left for a brief moment and returned with two glasses of water which he placed on both nightstands. Graces thanked him and smiled into her pillow as she thought about Neville's nighttime habits. A glass of water by the bed... it was so silly, but it intrigued her. She wondered what else she would learn about him. She already learned he snored from their first night together.

He turned off the lights and nuzzled close to her. She could feel his bare chest pressed against her back and sat up again to remove her robe. She was about to retrieve one of her night gowns, but Neville pulled her into him before she could leave the bed. Apparently happy to have her skin against his.

"Graces?"

Graces hummed a reply into the darkness and waited.

"I'm here. For anything you need, I'm here."

"I know," Graces whispered, putting her hand on the arm he had wrapped around her scared stomach. She felt Neville kiss the back of her neck, the warmth of his body pressed against her and closed her eyes and allowed sleep to claim her.


	72. Chapter 72

"I'm okay," Neville grunted, for the fifth time. He still had not stood up from the ground and was content to just continue bending over on all fours on the floor until his gut allowed him to regain his breath and his groin stopped throbbing, but Graces wouldn't stop fussing. He felt like if he stayed bent on the floor he would just continue worrying her, so he stood up.

"You don't look okay," Graces continued, wrapping the sheets around her and moving to the edge of the bed.

"I am." Neville nodded, trying again to make himself stand up straight. It didn't work out as well as he planned and he ended up shooing Graces over to her side of the bed so he could lay back down.

"I'm so sorry," Graces repeated, moving to put her hand on his chest and then taking it away, as though her touch could somehow make the pain return.

Neville smiled and took her hand in his and laid it against his chest, closing his eyes for a moment as another wave of nausea rolled over him.

"My father used to put a pillow between us when I would sleep with him and mum," Graces said quietly. "Protecting the family jewels he would say..."

"I'll bear that in mind," Neville said. "Though if you didn't decide to sleep diagonally at some point in the night I would have been fine. You would have just kept kicking my shins."

"I really am sorry," Graces whispered, moving closer and laying down beside him.

"I knew what I was getting into, climbing into bed with a Malfoy. I was very much aware that it was a dangerous path I was on." Neville opened his eyes and smiled at the blonde beside him. Graces gave him a half one in return, but it didn't seem to reach her eyes. "Tell me again about how you kicked your father. It will probably help me feel better faster."

"I think you're fine," Graces said, feigning offense.

Neville chuckled at her pout and moved closer to her. Maybe it was a good thing that she kicked him where it hurt. He was wondering what it would be like waking up with her, if she would feel awkward or if he would. This was probably the best thing that could happen, a perfect icebreaker. Neville leaned in thinking to kiss her before realizing his breath was probably far from pleasant.

"Uh, I'll be right back," he promised, doing his best not to breathe as he made his declaration. Graces frowned, but he was up before she could protest, hurrying to the loo where he could brush his teeth with the toothpaste Hermione had given him. He of course made sure to use a charm to clean his teeth, but he still liked the muggle way. He liked the taste and he had a feeling the minty smell was a good thing, especially in moments like this.

When he emerged from the bathroom he expected that Graces would still be in bed, but to his disappointment she was up and waiting outside the door.

"Oh, uh, are you going to be leaving so soon?" Neville asked, unable to hide his disappointment.

"Leave? No. You're not the only one that needs to freshen up in the morning, Longbottom," she smirked, squeezing past him to use the sink. Neville leaned against the doorframe as she washed her face and ran a brush through her hair.

It was more than he ever thought he would have with her. He never imagined they would be in a position like this. Well, he imagined, but he didn't believe it would come true.

"Longbottom."

"I thought we were past this? What's with calling me Longbottom all of the sudden?"

Graces smirked and put the brush down.

"When you're being sweet and we're having fun, you can be Neville. When you're standing in the doorway preventing me from using the loo you're Longbottom."

Neville blushed and quickly moved out of the doorway. He stumbled out an apology, but Graces just nodded with an amused smile and shut the door.

"Smooth, Nev, Smooth..."

"You know, I can hear you."

Neville groaned and laid back down on the bed. By the time Graces emerged from the bathroom, he was over the bulk of his humiliation.

"What's this?" Graces asked, holding up the blue tube of toothpaste. "Is this why your breath smells good?"

"That's toothpaste," Neville chuckled. "And yes, it is."

Graces stared at the toothpaste thoughtfully and leaned against the doorway of the the bathroom.

"I think I remember you talking about this," she said softly, her fingers toying with the ends. "You brought some for... for Harris. For Dr. Harris. It cleans muggle teeth," she recited as though it were all from a dream.

Neville stood up from the bed and gently took the tube out of her fingers.

"Would you like to try some?" he asked, not wanting to think of that time. Not wanting her to think on it either. "I could get you some and a toothbrush to use."

"Maybe later," Graces smiled sadly. Neville nodded and set the tube back on the sink, aware that Graces' eyes were still looking at the tube.

"Do you think about it often?" he asked quietly, forcing himself to look at her. "That night. Those days."

"Every day," she admitted, her voice stronger than he imagined it would be.

Neville didn't know what to say. He wished he could have taken all of that away. He would have gladly traded places with her, suffered all that pain to spare her.

"I wish I could turn back time."

"I don't. I would do it all again if given the opportunity."

"To save Thomas?" he asked, unsure what she meant.

"Not just to save Thomas."

Neville wasn't sure what to say. He felt like he shouldn't say a word, whatever was going on in Graces' head had her practically trembling. He moved closer to her, but before he could touch her her silver eyes stopped him in his tracks.

"Do the scars truly not bother you?"

"I told you they didn't," Neville reminded, the back of his knuckles caressing her cheek.

"So it wouldn't bother you if they were not repaired. If they were permanent."

"Not one bit," he swore, bringing his other hand up and cupping her face. "I am wondering why you are no longer going to see Snape about them though."

"The treatment hurts."

A lie. He knew her too well; and she knew he knew her too well. She looked up not in challenge, but pleadingly. Don't ask, take the lie. He didn't know if it was dignity she was trying to save or something more. He accepted it though and kissed her forehead so she couldn't see how painful it was for him. He didn't care about the damn scars, not at all, but knowing what happened to her, knowing how ashamed she was of them and for her to keep them. Why? He longed to know, but wasn't going to force her to tell.

_I love you,_ he thought. Wanting so badly to say it, to make it known. He wished she knew. Wished she knew so she could feel free to tell him anything and everything. But he couldn't tell her, so he just held her close and nuzzled his nose on the top of his head.

"You should move things in today," she murmured against his chest, a small content sigh escaping from her lips. "Some clothes for night and for day. Things of that nature. Don't bring anything people will notice missing from your part of the room, but I'm sure there are things you enjoy having. Things that make a place feel like home for you."

"Uh, right, okay," Neville nodded awkwardly, still unsure of how he felt about being here like that. He still didn't understand why she wanted this. He never thought he would miss the days when she had intimacy issues. Speaking of those issues, why such a drastic switch? One day she can't admit they are together and the next she wants him to move in.

He barely knew how to live with his dorm mates and now he was going to be living with a girl. She was going to see how messy he was, how clumsy he was and probably a few gross bits about him that he was not at all excited for. Bodily functions didn't matter to guys. He doubted that they wouldn't matter to Graces. Not to mention she was way too prissy to deal with how messy he was. He was going to try to be good about all this, but if they were practically living here together she would see. She would see and the romance would die. And then she will go.

"I still don't understand," he gulped. "I- I don't think this is a good idea. I mean- I want to spend time with you- but you don't like getting that close and-and I'm a guy."

"I'm aware you're a guy, Neville," Graces giggled, her hips rolling against his, causing him to have to wrangle in his focus.

"Yeah, but I mean. _I'm a guy._ Not a guy like your brother, who probably is all orderly and well-mannered, even when people aren't around. I mean I am a guy, not a well put-together gentleman. I'm just a guy."

"Care to give me an example of this," Graces mused, her voice not bothering to hide her amusement.

"I'd rather not."

There was a long silence before Graces told him that Draco never shuts the door when he pees in the morning.

"The fact that you think that's worth mentioning proves my point."

"Neville, look at me."

Neville did as he was commanded, but didn't think anything Graces would say could change his mind.

"I want you to be here with me. Every night, all night. I want to start and finish my day with you. We're not going to have very long, Neville. I have you on borrowed time," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she held him tighter. "This can never last. I-I just want to make the most of that time. I—when I'm with you I forget who I am." Neville frowned, but didn't dare even move. "I don't feel like someone's pawn. I feel safe. I feel—I feel invincible. Like no one could hurt me, take me or u-use me. Because for the brief time I'm here with you, Neville, the times when you're holding me and we let the world disappear. I believe you would set the world ablaze for me."

Neville froze at her words. He felt rigid, he couldn't even bring himself to agree.

"Why are you fighting something you want just as bad?" she rasped, her hands running through his hair making his skin prickle. "You want me. You want this, so stop being afraid to take what I am offering. You wanted to be my escape. You have it. You're my escape, my fantasy, my lifeline."

His body flushed with heat as she ran her fingers down his back and moved her body closer to his. He had forgotten how little they were wearing, but now, feeling her against his chest like this, it was hard not to be reminded.

"Neville." Merlin, he wasn't even touching her and he could hear the need in her voice. He opened his mouth, but his head was swimming as she nuzzled her nose against his neck and when she brought her fingers down to his pants... "Do you imagine mornings waking up with me?"

"Yes."

"I do too."

His heart stopped. He had been with her for so many months, but he still had a hard time believing that she could feel anything close to what he felt for her. But here she was saying she thought of him the way he thought of her. All those mornings he had hugged his pillow and wished she was there, she had too. It was incredible. Unbelievable. Magical.

"Neville." Her voice was so gentle. So inviting. She brushed her lips against his and whispered his name again and again, like a soft prayer. A moan rumbled through him as she dragged her fingers down his back and pressed her hips firmly against him, moving them ever so slightly in silent invitation.

"You're trying to distract me," he breathed, his heart pounding in his chest while his skin was crawling to touch her.

"No, I'm begging you for something," she corrected breathlessly.

"And what is that?" Neville gulped, gripping the wall as he felt his boxers fall round his ankles.

"Time."

Neville knew Graces enjoyed him. There was no way for her to hide the way her body reacted to his touch, but despite the months of passion they had shared, she was always very reserved in approaching sex. Often he took the lead. He was the one that burned and caught her on fire. This was different. She was the spark for a change. She wanted him and for the first time he felt like she was not embarrassed or ashamed to show it. She kissed him with all the sensuality he imagined a woman could possess and he found himself struggling to keep up with her need. He would move to kiss her lips and they would be preoccupied with his neck, his chest, his ear. He barely had time to think, let alone try to reciprocate her kisses.

He pinned her hard against the wall, determined to make her hold still long enough for him to unravel her the way she was unraveling him. He kissed her from her chest down, his tongue dragging along her porcelain skin as he got drunk off the scent of her arousal and perfume. She was exquisite, every inch of her and he had half a mind to throw her down on the floor and take her as carnally as she had been kissing him.

"You're shaking," Graces teased, her fingers toying with his hair. "You know, you don't have to hold back."

It was tempting. It wasn't like he hadn't thought of having her like that, it just didn't seem right once he was holding her to be anything but slow and loving. He remembered the shower they shared together, even then he hadn't been dominating. He just wasn't really dominating in nature. He couldn't stop second guessing his every move to be confident enough to just, well, take her. Like right now, if he stood up and pressed her against the wall and thrust into her, would he hurt her? It was a possibility, he could bruise her with the force or even perhaps hurt her below the waist. Usually when he entered her there was some resistance, her body seemed to need some foreplay to be able to completely welcome him so—

"You're not going to hurt me," Graces laughed, apparently amused by how torn he looked. "And if you do, I will have no problem telling you."

It may have been the promise or it may have been the fact that he wanted to and she was giving him permission. Either way he stood from where he was kneeling before her and firmly took her hips. He paused and looked down at her, waiting to see any form of hesitation, any sign that this was making her as nervous as it was making him.

Graces smirked at his challenge and wound one of her legs around him.

"You know, girls can want rough sex too, Longbottom," she smiled, running her hands down his back. "Did you consider that I may want you to be a bit less reserved?"

His skin was prickling with need. Her eyes were on him with an ocean of want and he was dying to answer her need. He kissed her gently, slowly letting his want pour into her, until he pressing his lips against her so firmly, he was sure they would be bruised, when she moved to take a breath he was on her neck, her breasts. Kissing, licking and even briting when he couldn't contain himself. He lifted her up against the wall and entered her without any hesitation or warning.

It was harder than he expected it would be, but he didn't care. She felt amazing around him and the noises she was making were a symphony of pleasure. It became his goal to make her scream with ecstasy. They had a section of a castle to themselves, so why not? She could be as loud as she wanted, or he could make her as loud as he wanted. Her fingers cut into his shoulders and he took her harder, losing himself to the point where he didn't even worry if she was enjoying it. _He_ was enjoying it.

All this time he felt like he could never get enough of her, and now that he was unafraid to take as much of her as he wanted he could feel the satisfaction coming. It was like he had been building this want for months. Hell, maybe years. Maybe he always lusted for her in the back of his mind. Even with her smart mouth and cruel laughs, maybe he always wanted her somewhere deep inside of him.

"Let's move to the bed," he suggested huskily.

"You don't like this?" Graces panted, dismayed at just the idea.

"I can do the exact same thing in a bed," Neville chuckled lowly. "Probably even better, since I won't have to focus on holding you up." Neville kissed her collar up to her ear aware that his every movement had her pulsing around him. "So, may I take you to bed Miss Malfoy?"

"You can take me anywhere you want me," Graces gasped. "As long as you keep doing _that_."

"Deal."

Graces did not make it an easy task to get to the bed. She made every second he wasn't in her agony. Her tongue teased his ear and her hands didn't stop their wandering. He could hardly think let alone walk. Which is why it was no surprised her tripped on his own feet and landed hard on top of her.

"Shit! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asked, looking over her over and checking for blood.

"I'm fine," Graces promised, kissing his neck and pulling him over her.

"I'm so sorry," Neville groaned, feeling especially foolish. "I really am. I—"

Neville's words trailed off as Graces lips silenced him. If she was hurt she wasn't letting on. She kept kissing him as though nothing had happened, like nothing had changed. He was hesitant at first to continue, but the more she kissed him the more reassured he felt. He took her harder than he ever dared before and she arched her hips to his with each thrust.

When it was over and they were both glistening with sweat and panting on the ground he reached out for her hand.

"I would set the world ablaze for you," he swore. "And I will sooner die before I let harm come to you again, Graces. You have my word. I would die."

He didn't know if she believed him. She didn't say anything after his declaration and she didn't seem to really take it to heart. But Neville knew it was the truth and didn't mind if she didn't feel he was sincere, if she thought his declaration was just brought on by what they just did. It was true and that was enough. He watched her get dressed to meet her brother for breakfast and knew in his bones he would never let her hurt again. Those scars on her stomach would be the last.

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"It may need a specific charm to repair it." Graces sighed, leaning against her arms in exhaustion. Graham looked over at her sideways, but didn't say whether he agreed or disagreed with her statement. "I mean, lot's of things needs specific charms to be said in order to be repaired. We just need to do some research... find the charm."

"That simple, huh? Tell me, my darling sister, are you going to go ask Madam Pince for books on repairing vanishing cabinets? Or should I? Or perhaps we could ask Professor Flitwick."

"Don't get smart with me, Draco, I'm just trying to help. We've been staring at this damn thing all day! You said mending charms didn't work, so I'm making suggestions."

"Suggestions that are impossible."

"That doesn't even make sense!"

"Your suggestion—"

"Is damn good," Graham interrupted quietly. "It makes sense. Nothing else is working. And you and I have used some of the most complex mending charms we could find. Her suggestion is well thought out." Graham placed his hand on the cabinet, the dark mark displayed casually on his left arm. He didn't bother to hide it in front of her and Draco. It was odd seeing it. She knew that to many it brought a feeling of disgust, fear... but for her it was... comforting. Her thoughts were suddenly with her father and she swallowed hard at the lump in her throat growing with memories of her own father's arm.

"Just because it's not what we want to hear doesn't mean we should discount what's she's saying. There is no point in ignoring answers we don't like. Ignoring them won't change them if she's right."

"Fine," Draco clipped, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Then where should we start?"

"With a good night's rest," Graham proclaimed. "I think we all need it."

Draco sat up and opened his mouth to protest, but Graham silenced him with a single look.

"It's not up for discussion, Malfoy. I'm tired and if I'm tired I know you're tired. You need sleep; I need sleep. We're going to go get some sleep."

"Your life doesn't depend on this," Draco snapped coming to his feet.

"No, just my freedom!" Graham shouted, slamming his fist onto a table.

As soon as he said it Graces could see the regret. Graham's face broke from it's usual stone and his eyes turned to her fearfully. As though his words were going to cause a storm.

"I didn't mean that," he lied wide-eyed. "I—"

"It's fine," Graces shrugged, moving from her chair and kissing Draco on the cheek in good night. Draco didn't even acknowledge the kiss, he was too busy glaring at Graham. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

Draco took her hand as she turned and stood to leave with her, his angry eyes not leaving Grahams. Despite his anger, it felt good to have his arm come around her shoulders. She leaned in slightly to him as he escorted her to leave the room. She could feel his anger rippling off him, but he remained silent. He truly had changed, if this had been just a few months ago he would have been shouting cutting words at Graham, not walking away.

"Don't leave him."

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, stopping outside the room and turning to her.

"Don't leave him," Graces repeated. "Go back in there and talk to him."

"No."

Draco tried to move her further from the room, but Graces kept her stance.

"Draco, you're not being fair." She sighed tiredly. "You can't expect him to want to marry me."

"Why not?! There's no reason he shouldn't want to marry you. None. If anything he benefits from marrying you." Draco went into a rant about all the reasons Montague should want to marry her and while it was all flattering it wasn't reasons for marriage.

"He doesn't love me," Graces said quietly. "And I don't love him. My beauty, my talent and my skills don't change that. It would be a loveless, empty marriage."

"He has said he could love you. He has said—"

"But he doesn't now," Graces pointed out. "We don't love each other, Draco. He's right. It would be like a prison. We would have shackled ourselves to one another. We will lose our freedom."

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Draco felt his heart clench as his sister turned away to hide her tears.

"Graham has been such a wonderful friend," Graces continued tightly. "He has not turned away from us, despite our situation. He's done nothing but helped. I am so grateful to him. For so many reasons I am grateful. Merlin, Draco, he doesn't need to help us with that damn piece of furniture, but he's there. He's there with you day and night. He took control from Nott, granted I doubt he is going to be able to hold it once Nott gets back from break, but he's going to try. He's taking care of you."

"You don't get to be angry with him for not loving me. Nor are you allowed to be angry with him for speaking his mind," Graces snapped, turning around and wiping away her tears. "In case you haven't realized he has no one."

Draco tried not to flinch at her last statement. He hadn't realized.

"Get in there. Yell at him if you need to, but end it on good grounds. Talk to him. See if he is okay. Tell him what he said is forgiven and be understanding that this isn't what he wants. _Thank him_ , for his willingness to marry someone he doesn't love so that you can sleep at night."

"We paid him," Draco reminded, grabbing for a reason to not feel guilty. "We paid him and-and if he does marry you he's getting a damn good deal out of it."

Graces narrowed her stare and squared her jaw.

"There is not enough gold in the world to repay him for such a sacrifice," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotions. "Make it right, Draco."

He hated that she was right. He hated that he owed so much to Graham. They were never even really that close and now he owed him everything he had. Graces left him to think of it all and he stood in the hall feeling more ashamed with each passing second.

When he entered the room, Graham was slumped in an old dingy chair. His hand tiredly rubbing his temple. He didn't even realize Draco had entered, until he dragged a wooden chair across from him.

"You're an ass," Draco started, feeling no need to hide his thoughts. "You're seriously an ass."

"I'm sorry," Graham murmured quietly, leaning forward so his arms rested on his knees. "I didn't mean to say that."

"Did you mean it though?" Graham's shoulders tensed at the question and he shook his head. "You're a poor liar, Montague," Draco snorted.

"I'm sorry for that too."

"I always thought you were stoic and quiet because you were calculating, now I wonder if you are just restrained. You're purposely cold and distant because you don't trust your own mouth. Smart move if that's the case."

It was now Graham's turn to glare.

"Careful, Malfoy," Graham cautioned, his dark eyes now meeting Draco's silver in challenge. "I know I messed up. I slipped. I get that. But I won't be made a mockery."

"How could you say that in front of her?" Draco snapped. "How could you make her feel like she was entrapping you, like she was a horrible sentence. How could you make the comparison to death?"

"I. Slipped," Graham repeated, an edge of warning to his voice.

"You slipped," Draco echoed, chuckling darkly. "Slipped... "

Draco thought about the mess he was in. He wanted Graces to live. He wanted her to be able to walk away from this hell, even if he could not. He wondered what he was leaving her to though. She didn't want to marry Graham and he didn't want to marry her. What would happen if he was gone?

"I'm sorry," Draco breathed after a while. Graham tensed at the words, clearly waiting for something cutting to come after. "I really am," Draco promised, closing his eyes and wishing for a simpler time.

"I don't know what to do, Graham. I don't."

"We can just do what we've been doing," Graham offered.

"And if this fails?"

"If this fails Graces will be taken care of."

"You don't love her."

"Yes, well. It will be fine."

"Will it?"

"It has to be."

"Maybe. Maybe you could start trying now?" Draco suggested hesitantly.

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe you could... court her now." Draco could see Graham's hesitation so he continued. "I would even allow you two to have privacy. So you can actually talk... get to know one another."

"I don't know, Draco."

"Why not?" Graham seemed to be searching for a reason, which didn't help Draco's nerves. "I think that if you two got to know one another, really got to know one another you may feel differently then you do now."

"You think we will fall in love," Graham deadpanned.

"Why do you say that like it's so absurd?"

Graham's jaw tightened and Draco had a feeling there was something he was missing. Something Graham wasn't telling him.

"What are you not telling me?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, you're right. I'm sorry."

He was so obviously flustered. Draco wished he was sitting so he could back away, look at this from a distance. He was missing something. He knew he was, but he couldn't place what it was. Graham didn't seem to want to spend time getting to know Graces romantically, and Graces didn't want to spend time getting to know him romantically. But why?

"I don't want to court," Graham continued, seeming to regain his bearings. "It would feel like a lie and Graces would dislike it just as much. Plus when you live, it would leave us with a lot of awkwardness."

"That's only if you don't grow on one another," Draco pointed out.

And there it was. That look, that hesitation. Oh, he was definitely missing a key piece.

"True... But still I am not comfortable with it. I will however ensure we spend more time together."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"Let me worry about that. You have enough on your plate." Graham gave him a tired smile and Draco was willing to put away his suspicions for the time being. "I really am tired, Draco. I do think it's best we get some sleep."

"Yeah you're right," Draco nodded, standing up with the older boy and starting their walk to the dungeons. He tried not to think too much about what was coming, but it plagued him despite his efforts.

"I wish I could make this right for you," Draco said quietly, as they entered into their common room. "I really do. You're a good friend, Graham. I realize I don't always express that. That most of the time I'm ungrateful, but-but I do appreciate everything."

"Merlin that seems like a useless word. Appreciate... It's not enough. I hope you know what this means to me though. And I hope you realize you're the person I am closest to these days, and if you ever need to talk or—"

"Draco," Graham cut off, waving a hand in front of him. "You don't have to do this. Actually, I would seriously appreciate it if you didn't."

It was the first time Draco laughed all night. It wasn't even a full laugh, just a chuckle, but it felt great. Graham looked as though he were being cornered and not given praise.

"Get some sleep, Malfoy," Graham ordered, moving towards the 7th year room. "In the morning try to be a bit less... sappy. Cranky and temperamental I can handle, but not this."

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By the time Graces reached the room she was exhausted. Today had been so tiring. She hadn't even done anything strenuous, but sitting in that room with Graham and Draco thinking about that damn cabinet, trying spell after spell, examining everything again and again. She felt like she was going to scream multiple times. The only good thing about the day was her early morning and meals when she got to be with Thomas and Octavian.

She was expecting to be greeted happily when she entered the little apartment, but she was quickly disappointed.

"I can't stay locked up in this room anymore," Neville groaned, laying on the floor in front of the couch. "I'm so bored."

"You could have read," Graces pointed out, tiredly taking a seat.

"I did read," Neville groaned. "I read and I read, until my eyes couldn't see the letters. I need air. Fresh air."

"We talked about this," Graces sighed.

"Draco is not going to draw the conclusion that I was in the room the other day when he came barging in just because he sees that I came back early from break," Neville bemoaned. "Come on, Graces. Seeing me in the Great Hall isn't going to spark his mind into thinking you and I are sleeping together."

"I really don't want to take the chance."

"You're being paranoid. Maybe we could—"

"I sent you food," Graces pointed out. "Really good food."

Neville frowned.

"Yeah, about that. Who was it that was giving me my daily rations? I heard a crack, so I take it it was a house elf, but I didn't see them."

"No, why would you? Good house elves shouldn't be seen or heard unless called for."

Neville gave her a disapproving look, but didn't comment.

"Was it a school's house elf?" he asked, after a moment.

"No it's from the mansion."

"So you won't let me leave the room to eat or do anything other than get stuff from the tower, and I can only get stuff from the tower if it's during meal times, but you have one of your house elves coming here to drop off meals for me? You're not at all worried that the elf would tell?"

"No," Graces snorted. "I'm not worried it would tell."

"Why not?"

Graces laughed and was about to explain that the house elf she sent had no tongue, but then stopped herself. Neville definitely would want to know how the elf lost its tongue and she knew without a doubt that that conversation would cause a lot of problems.

"Trust me, Neville. It won't."

"You didn't threaten the poor creature, did you?" Neville asked, his eyes stern with warning.

"No, I did not," Graces proclaimed, glad that she could answer that honestly.

"Good," Neville nodded satisfied. "Sorry, I just... I don't know. I don't like the idea of house elves being mistreated. Makes me think of Mable."

"Who's Mable?"

"One of our house elves. She's a sweetheart. Getting a bit up there in age, but she's like a child. I just hear stories of how other purebloods treat their house elves, and I can't help but imagining someone treating Mable like that."

"How do you treat your house elves?" Graces asked cautiously, knowing that there was going to be a great difference.

"Well."

"How well?"

"I don't know," Neville laughed. "We don't punish them. Or hit them. We let them decide what needs to be done on the estates. We—"

"You let them decide?"

"Yeah, they know better than us anyways what should be cleaned or moved. No need to micro manage them. If something isn't done I will do it or my gran and uncle will. They're pretty set in their ways anyways. I think if I ever asked them to do something different Fennel and Prod's protest would be so great I would give up in a week. Fennel can have a bit of a temper, he's a lot older than the others and man he can get grumpy really fast."

"One time he caught me with my grandfather's wand. Man, he was furious. He boxed my ears!" Graces jaw dropped at the idea of an elf touching a wizard like that, but Neville just laughed. "He's grand, though. He used to always offer to watch me if I wanted to go outside in the garden. My gran didn't want me out and about unsupervised when I was younger. She was worried I would get into mischief. Fennel always offered to watch me. He would always say it ain't right for a young'n to be locked up." Neville looked over at her and gave a pointed look. "He would totally disagree with you locking me up in this apartment for days on end."

"Oh, we're back to that?"

"Sure are," Neville grinned, finally getting up from the ground and approaching her where she sat. "Please, please, I beg you. Let me leave this room tomorrow."

Graces laughed as Neville got on his knees and pleaded at her feet. She relented though. Neville would be allowed out of the room, so long as he swore when asked that he just arrived back that day day.

"Who would ask?"

"You never know. We need a reason as to why you came back."

"Graces, he's not going to ask. Your brother likes to either torment me or pretend I don't exist."

"Longbottom, please don't test me. You have no idea how tired I am. Just, please, tell me what you would tell him if he asks you."

"I'll say I came home early because my gran was worried after the attack on the Weasley's. There is after all _no safer place than Hogwarts_."

Graces couldn't help but laugh at that statement. No place safer. If that statement was true that meant the rest of the world was just plain fucked.

"You look tired," Neville commented sadly, his hand reaching up and caressing her cheek.

"It's been a long day," she admitted quietly.

"Can we talk about it?"

"I wish we could."

To her surprise he didn't press. He kissed her cheek and gently took her hand leading her to the bedroom. The bedroom where he had apparently been busy decorating with a mixture of flowers and potted plants. Graces smiled at the arrangment of flowers on her nightstand. It was a beautiful arrangement of holly, mistletoe, pine and white roses. The rest of the plants seemed to be more out of interest to Neville, but the vase was clearly for her.

"I can move the others out if you want," Neville murmured, seeming to be realizing he had brought in a lot of plants. Graces could tell by his flamed cheeks he hadn't thought it too much at the time.

"They're fine. The room was too bare anyways." She gently traced her finger along one of the holly sprigs. "This is lovely. Thank you."

"You're lovely," Neville murmured, his lips brushing against the back of her neck as his arms folded around her. Graces hummed a reply and leaned back against him. She really was tired. "I drew you a bath."

"Trying to get me out of my clothes, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Trying to get you to _relax_. Getting you out of your clothes is just a plus."

Graces wondered if Neville was like this with everyone else. If once he felt comfortable he was this charming and funny. She leaned back and kissed his cheek before taking advantage of his generosity. She would have completely fallen asleep in the tub if Neville hadn't been in the other room waiting on her. By the time she came back out, the lights were off save for a few candles by the bed. Neville was already dozing off on his side, and she noted that he was wearing pajamas she was sure were only for comfort.

"Nice pajamas," Graces giggled, pulling on her own nighttime wear.

"They're warm."

"They're hideous."

Neville looked down self-consciously, and folded his arms around him.

"I like them. Not all of us need silk."

"Clearly," Graces drawled, moving under the sheets and cozying up beside him. Merlin, he smelled good. She moved closer to him, breathing him in as she warmed her bones. She could see the snow falling outside, but none of that chill touched her as she cuddled up next to Neville. "I liked sleeping in your shirt when you were gone," she yawned, deciding she didn't always need silk.

"You are more than welcome to continue sleeping in them. They're in the second drawer beside your, uh, unmentionables."

"You went through my drawers?" Graces gasped, knowing full well he didn't. That he was just looking for a few for himself.

"No! I just was looking for some space. You said you wanted me to bring things in! You didn't say what drawers you had already—"

"I'm just playing with you, Neville. It's fun watching you squirm... unmentionables," she laughed softly. "Almost as bad as deflower."

"You really are a prat," Neville growled, kissing her forehead despite his words. The finest part of being kissed by Neville was the way he lingered, as though he savored every moment of the kiss even after it was done. He cherished kissing her forehead as much as he cherished making love to her it seemed.

"Are you, um, very, very tired? Or just tired?" he asked hopefully.

Graces grinned and ran her fingers through his soft hair, kissing him gently in reply. It wasn't long before his arms were around her and their clothes were being discarded under the blankets.

"Wanting a replay of earlier, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville laughed softly against her collar and shook his head.

"Earlier was... fun," he settled, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "But I prefer this. That is if you—"

"I prefer this too," Graces flushed, avoiding his eyes. "Though I'm not opposed to what we did earlier. I really enjoyed earlier."

"I did too," Neville chuckled, his own cheeks turning red. "I enjoyed it a lot... but I like this more. I'd rather take my time with you and build to a finale."

"You make it sound like a symphony and not sex," Graces laughed, her fingers playing with the back of his neck as she looked up into his dark eyes.

"With you it is."

It was said so simply, so matter of fact, as though she should know that he thought of their time together was something as beautiful and moving as music. Her whole day suddenly disappeared and the fatigue she felt from earlier vanished. He leaned in closer and her breath caught as he brushed his lips to hers. It was slow, gentle and just as perfect as their first night here in this room together. She fell asleep to the sound of his breathing and the warmth of his body. She didn't even care that tomorrow morning she would be back in that room with the cabinet, because she knew Neville would be there both before and after.


	73. Chapter 73

Neville leaned back against the pillows in his and Graces' bed and pretended to be reading the chapter that was assigned in Charms earlier that afternoon. In truth he couldn't help but watch Graces practice transfiguration. It was quite amusing. He always assumed she just had raw talent when it came to wand work, but from living with her he was quickly discovering that it was not talent but hours of work. She just couldn't seem to get the approach right. She either didn't hit the object at all, or got too close and her wand smacked it dead on.

Actually, Graces Malfoy, whom he always saw as the poster child of poise and grace, was exceptionally clumsy. She bumped into things constantly, cursing him in languages he didn't understand when she knocked her knee against a drawer he left open, but it was a ton of other things. Her hip always seemed to find it's way against a chair, dresser, doorway or cabinet. She bumped into him constantly when they were getting dressed in the morning, though he certainly didn't mind that. And she knocked things over quite often. She knocked over the water he put by her bedside table numerous times in the few weeks they had been living together. It was hard to believe, but Graces Malfoy was extremely clumsy.

"What are you smirking about, Longbottom?" Graces grumbled, making yet another attempt to turn vinegar into wine.

"Nothing," he lied, knowing it was in his best interests not to call Graces Bellatrix Malfoy accident prone. "Are you coming to bed soon? It's late."

"I'm busy."

"You've been practicing for hours. It's past midnight."

"I have a test tomorrow morning and this will be on our N.E.W.T."

"And rest would do you much more good," Neville pointed out, leaving the warmth of the covers to place his arms around the temperamental witch. "You need sleep, Malfoy."

"And sleep I shall when I can do this perfectly."

Neville was quiet for a few moments, holding her from behind while debating if he wanted to offer her help. Graces never made him feel like he was less of a wizard, but there was no denying that he struggled in many areas. He had improved, through her tutoring, and since he got his own wand and no longer was using his father's, but most still didn't rank him highly in skill.

"Would you like some help?" Neville asked quietly, a little embarrassed to even be offering considering that Graces had far better grades than him. "I think I know what you're doing wrong."

Graces tensed for a few moments and Neville couldn't help but wonder if it was embarrassment that she needed help from him, but before he could take it back she leaned back against his shoulder and grinned.

"Okay, Professor Longbottom, let's see what you got."

Neville gave her a small smile before moving her to stand away from him so he could better instruct her.

"You're off when you cast your spell," he started, moving her hand to point directly at the object. "Way off. It's almost as though you can't tell where it is in front of you." Neville paused for a few seconds and then looked down at Graces. "Um, can you tell where it is?"

"Of course," Graces declared, an air of confidence in her voice that seemed odd and ill placed. "I just, well, it's my arm," she finished quickly.

"Your arm?" Neville frowned, looking at her hand.

"Yes," Graces nodded. "It's still messed up from that Quidditch accident in October. Doesn't feel the same. I have a harder time with it."

Neville considered this for a moment.

"And the knocking into things?" Something was missing. What was he missing?

"I'm not perfect, Neville," Graces grinned, looking at him pointedly. "Far from it."

"Trust me, Graces, I'm aware."

"Hey!"

"Hey, what? You stabbed me. You lost the ideal woman title a while ago."

Graces tried to remain indignant, but the facade cracked pretty quickly and they both ended up laughing.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" Graces giggled, putting her wand down and sitting on the bed.

"Tell you what. I will let go of the fact that you stabbed me then took me out into a barn where you put me in a trough and slit my skin open and stabbed me in the heart with a needle if you just stop bringing up me thanking you after sex that one time in the classroom."

"Nice try, Longbottom."

"Yeah... I didn't think you would give that up." Neville smirked, taking a seat beside her and brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. "You would tell me if something was wrong, right?"

"Neville," Graces whispered, moving closer to him and placing her warm hand on his cheek as she grinned up at him. "You're being ridiculous." Neville flushed as Graces let out a small laugh. "So I'm not as graceful as you thought and I have to work harder for my grades than you expected. Does it really mean something is wrong with me? I mean, it's not like you and I have ever been alone like this. I know you're bound to find things out about me that aren't what you expected, but your first reaction shouldn't be to think something is wrong."

"You're right." Neville nodded, feeling especially ashamed at bringing up her flaws in such a way. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry," Graces declared, kissing his cheek playfully and bounding up from the bed. "I think you're right. I'm ready for bed."

Neville watched Graces get ready for bed and once again asked himself what he was missing. He should feel awful for bringing up her flaws as though there was something seriously physically wrong with her, but he didn't. He just felt like... He didn't know.

He watched her undress, the opalesque dragon scales on her ribs glittering in the candlelight. From this angle he couldn't even see the scars. She wound herself up in her silk robe after shimmying into one of his favorite nightgowns and he didn't miss the look she gave him over her shoulder as she put her usual night time creams on her skin.

She was graceful. Her movements reminded him of flower blooms floating on water. She was poise and grace. She wasn't clumsy. He had seen her every day for the past six years. She wasn't clumsy. The spells... he could see that being her arm. It did make sense, but the bumping into things constantly didn't seem like her, didn't seem like her at all.

"You look so serious," Graces teased, coming into bed and straddling him. "You're even furrowing your brow."

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

"What about?"

"Nothing," Neville lied. "I must be tired."

"Then let's go to bed."

It was easy to forget his doubts when she was tucked under his chin fast asleep against him. Maybe he was looking into things too much. She was right that they hadn't really been able to spend much time together before, at least not like this. It was a completely different environment when they were meeting in barns or in abandoned classrooms.

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This was going to be weird. It was going to be weird and awkward, and Graham Montague was never good with either of those scenarios. Still, after weeks of nagging he was desperate to get Draco off his back, and he needed to make some effort. Though he doubted Draco would count this as such.

"Graces, I'd like a word." He probably should have made that a request, not a demand, judging by Graces' pointed look, but then this would be even more insincere than it already was. He offered no apology and waited for Graces to excuse herself from the conversation she was having with Pansy.

To this day Graham still did not understand her friendship with Parkinson. Graces was as bright as they came, and Pansy was... well, what you saw is what you got. Graces paused for a moment, clearly a bit surprised by his interruption, but excused herself. Graham inwardly cringed as Pansy grinned up at him, as though she knew exactly what he wanted with her friend, and from the glint in her eyes she seemed to have been reading far too many sappy novellas.

Graham reminded himself that he was raised properly by his mother and graciously inclined his head to Parkinson before walking with Graces over to a more quiet area. "I want you to start attending practices again." There, done. Now he could get Draco to leave him be.

"Pardon?" Graces frowned, her mouth slightly ajar.

"You are a member of the team and I want you to attend practice."

"I'm out for the season," Graces reminded, as though he had forgotten.

"There are plenty of other things you could do that won't require you to further injure your arm. You can run around the pitch to keep up your endurance, help coach, practice flying drills—"

"I can't practice flying drills, if I fall off my broom and grab for my handle I could retear—"

"I have been flying around on brooms with you since your parents bought you a training broom for your 5th birthday," Graham interrupted impatiently. "You're an excellent flyer and you know you wouldn't fall."

"Flying in drills is different and you know it," Graces hissed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "This is ridiculous. I'm off the team, Graham. You know it, and I know it. I have no reason to continue this facade of playing when it's obvious that when my arm is healed I still won't be back on that pitch."

"You don't know that."

"I do," Graces disagreed, her eyes firmly on his. "I know exactly where I could be next year and in none of those scenarios am I playing Quidditch on my school's team."

"I really don't care what you think, Malfoy," Graham drawled. "You will be on that pitch for every Slytherin practice until I tell you otherwise." The blonde made some noise of outrageous, but Graham continued before she could go further. "You owe me, Malfoy. You owe me and you know it. Be on the pitch. It's an order."

"You cannot be serious."

"I am serious," Graham maintained, already checking out of the conversation. "We have a practice tomorrow after classes. Be there."

Graham ignored Graces' protests and, though the blonde followed him out the door of the common room into the hall, he didn't give her any hint that he could hear her. He just strolled to the one place he knew she couldn't continue chatting in his ear. By the time he entered the library he was fairly certain he could expect a hex when he got back for the evening, judging by how Graces stormed away, but he was determined to enjoy a few hours without Malfoys.

Scratch that, without Malfoy number two. Draco apparently was in the library. The blonde boy frowned up at him over a book as Graham took a seat across and silently greeted him.

"Why is my sister furious with you?"

"Because I'm forcing her to spend time with me."

"I don't think you're doing it right if she's that mad at you."

"Malfoy, do me a favor and read your damn book and let me worry about your sister being mad at me."

"But the whole point of you two spending time together is so—"

"Draco," Graham groaned. "Can you please just let me handle this? Or at least shut up about it now, before Madam Pince throws us out of the library?"

Graham was relieved that for once Draco was relenting. Though he probably was only doing so because he didn't want to get thrown out of the library while he was researching charms for the cabinet. Graces offered to help, but Draco refused to let her. He wanted no evidence of her involvement and Graham agreed with that reasoning.

If Draco failed there needed to be no evidence of Graces' involvement. If the Ministry thought for one second she was plotting with Draco she would be in Azkaban. He could take care of her if she didn't have blood on her hands. He would marry her to prevent her death and she could live out her life in the safety of his last name. But he could not protect her from Azkaban. His name could offer her no shelter if the wizarding world had evidence that she helped in killing their beloved Dumbledore.

He looked up at Draco sitting across from him, poring over book after book and wondered what it would feel like if he had to watch him be killed. Part of him wanted to believe he wouldn't watch, that he would do something brave and beg the Dark Lord to spare him like Graces did for Thomas, but he knew that he wouldn't. There would be no way to save Draco. He would only damn himself and in turn damn the one thing Draco cares about. Any effort on Draco's behalf if he should fail would just lead to Graces' death. Graham had to stay in the inner circle and he had to continue being deemed worth having. The Dark Lord would not harm his family so long as he was a true asset.

Still... he wished he could do something. As he stared at Draco he couldn't help but want to be able to do something, but it was a pointless fantasy. The most he could do was what he was doing now. He turned away, not wanting to look at the boy sitting across from him when familiar eyes caught his gaze.

Wamil ever so slightly lifted her hand up from the book it was resting on in greeting and he found himself unable to turn away from her stare. How long had she been watching him? He looked down, embarrassed at how he was watching her. His heart was pounding in his chest and his mouth was dry. Oh, he wanted to look, to see if she was still looking at him, or... or just to see her. He had made such an art of not looking at her that now it was almost unbearable. He arrived to class early, sat in the front because she sat in the back, left class late so she would already be gone with one of her friends. He took different halls, always sat on the side of the Slytherin table that faced the wall, he did everything in his power to never have to look at her. Most days he didn't see her, despite the fact that they only had two classes that weren't together and he did all of this because deep down he knew he was too weak not to look at her.

He took a chance and lifted his eyes back up. Her eyes were still fixed on him, her ice blue eyes. She bit her lower lip and looked around the library, before standing up and motioning for him to follow. He watched her disappear behind some books and looked over at Draco. He wasn't even paying attention to him, and there wasn't anyone in this wing of the library. He could go.

_And do what? Say what? Nothing good will ever come of it._ No, he was going to stay right where he was. He was going to remain in his chair. He was not going to follow half-breeds into darkened corners of the library. Absolutely not, it wasn't decent. It wasn't proper. He opened his book and began reading, unable to not notice that Wamil didn't return to the desk she was sitting at. How long was she going to wait for him? Merlin, they never even talk. Why would she think that he would meet her anyways? The last time he said anything to her was when Graces caught her giving him notes.

Maybe he should meet her, just to set things straight, make it obvious that he did not want to be friends, or on friendly terms. Yes, he would meet her for that reason. He would make it very clear he wanted nothing to do with her.

Graham stood, a bit too forcefully seeing as how his chair scraped along the stone floor. Draco scowled and shot him a glare, but Graham just rolled his eyes and headed over to where he saw Wamil disappear. Sure enough, there she was waiting. He held his breath as he took in the way her raven hair fell in thick waves around her face. He had worked so hard on ignoring her that he felt like he was seeing her for the first time all over again.

"Hi," she whispered with a small sheepish smile. Graham looked away from her hair and centered on her eyes. He always tried to forget her eyes. They were ice blue, but there were other colors glittering in there. It was the first thing he had ever noticed about her. Her eyes. They were on the Hogwarts express and she was at the trolley when he first saw them. They were impossible to miss against her brown skin. He remembered staring and trying to decipher all the flecks of color in them. He had never seen eyes like that before. He had only seen a stone like it. Her eyes were the like blue opals, the unfortunate thing about them was you had to be close to see the flecks of colors, something he never allowed himself to be.

"What do you want?" he demanded, realizing that this was all a very, very bad idea.

"I just—I, well, it seemed like you were having a row with Malfoy, Graces Malfoy that is, and then you looked like you were thinking about something at the desk, and you seemed sad? I don't know. It's hard to tell with you, but you were certainly not at ease, so I, uh, are you okay?"

Graham paused for a moment and regathered himself.

"Tell me, Sunder, h—"

"Wamil," the hufflepuff interrupted, pursing her lips in a smile. "No need to be so formal. My given name is fine."

"Sunder is appropriate," Graham stated coldly. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't take note of my personal affairs."

"I-I'm sorry," Wamil stammered. "I didn't mean to intrude, I just—"

"Well you did," Graham said, his voice hard and unforgiving. "The argument Graces and I had was exceptionally private. You see we are involved. I'm actually formally courting her; it's why I've been spending so much time with her brother. I hope to marry her at the end of term. Sooner, possibly, if she agrees."

_End this. Burn the bridge, make it so you can never turn back._

"That being said, I would appreciate it if you didn't try to lead me into darkened corners of the school. The last thing I want is to be caught with a half-breed in such a compromising situation," Graham sneered, burying the part of him that cared about how hurt the girl in front of him looked. "It could ruin my reputation as well as my whole life. I'm a wizard. I'm from a good family and have a suitable girl waiting for me. I don't need some harpy-like creature trying to tempt me."

Graham turned to leave, but Wamil grabbed his arm and turned him back around.

"Is that how you want this to be?" she challenged, her eyes alive with rage. "Fine. I get it. I shouldn't be surprised. Self-preservation, am I correct?" Graham stood motionless at her words and waited for it all to be over. "So you get to live... just not for anything of your choosing."

"Whatever you are implying, I—"

"Save it Montague," Wamil scoffed. "You have your wish. Consider me gone. But—" she tutted, "you made a mistake calling my heritage into this. A big one. Yes, I'm part veela. And yes, my ancestors, though beautiful and tempting, could turn into harpy like demons when angered, but I would rather come from stock that turned into that when angered then come from stock that turns into cowards when scared."

"I am not scared," Graham said slowly, shaking despite his words.

"Tell yourself whatever you need to, Montague," Wamil chuckled, releasing his arm. "But know that if you ever bring up my heritage in a derogatory fashion again I will show you just how harpy-like I can turn."

Wamil moved to leave and Graham knew in that instant it would all be over. She would walk away and he would have succesfully destroyed any feelings she may have held for him. But for some reason as she moved past him and the smell of her perfume wafted by he grabbed her arm and looked down at her imploringly.

"They would kill you," he whispered, his whole body vibrating. "They would kill you."

Wamil stood looking at him for what felt like hours, her face not showing a hint of softness as her eyes, the eyes he was so fond of, glared at him.

"They're going to kill me anyways," she declared, yanking her arm away.

And with that she was gone. Graham stood there in the dark listening as her last words echoed in his head. Knowing that, somewhere deep inside, he knew that all along.

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"I'm not going to fly," Graces grumbled stubbornly, hellbent on making this as difficult as possible for Graham. "Or practice with the quaffle, or—"

"Exactly what will you do, Malfoy?" Graham snapped impatiently.

"I don't know." The blonde shrugged. "Coach?"

"Nice try," Graham said, glaring at Thomas who was snickering at Graces' comment. "You either fly or I will make you run laps all through practice." Graces groaned and Graham took that time to mention that it would probably be especially excruciating considering she hadn't been working out regularly.

"I really can't fly, Graham."

"I talked to Pomfrey, she said you were fine to fly."

"But if I fall I could—"

"You're not going to fall."

"But—"

"Are you afraid?"

Graces mouth dropped indignantly at the suggestion.

"Bugger off, Montague!" she cursed, punching the older boy in the arm.

"Such language from a lady." Graham chuckled.

"Oh, bite me," Graces snapped, her temper getting the better of her. She now wished she could get on her broom and fly. She wished she had both eyes and could fly circles around Graham Montague until he was so dizzy he nearly fell off his broom, but she didn't have both eyes. The sad fact was she was useless flying formations up there. She not only endangered herself but she endangered everyone around her. Flying alone was one thing, she was fine flying alone, she didn't risk bumping into people left and right with open sky. But up there... up there she would constantly be crashing into people.

One eye meant no depth perception. She really didn't know where anything truly was. She had an idea, but it wasn't exact. Neville mistook it as clumsiness, thank the gods, he didn't know her well enough to know something was seriously wrong. But Graham would know. Thomas would know. If they saw her up there they would know something was wrong.

"I will not fly," Graces repeated stubbornly.

"Then you'll run laps."

Graces bit down hard on her cheek to keep from saying something hateful.

"Fine," she said coolly. "I'll run laps."

She could tell Graham was unhappy with her response. He didn't say a word more on the subject, but he also didn't look at her. He glared forward at the pitch, his face turned to iron as he stomped forward. When they reached the pitch Graces knew that Graham's mood was not going to improve.

The Gryffindor team seemed to be in the middle of their own practice. Graham cursed and Graces tried very hard not to laugh as he turned around and took deep breaths. Graham was an interesting creature. He always had to be in control, which didn't seem like too much of a problem for him, but lately it seemed easier to get under his skin. She wondered if the mark had done that. Suddenly, she felt very bad challenging him to a battle of wills moments ago.

"Do you think he will lose it, finally?" Blaise drawled, the corners of his mouth turning upward as he watched Graham clench and unclench his fists.

"He didn't blow one when he was forced to add you to the team."

Blaise grinned at the memory.

"I wonder what it is he dislikes about me," he mused.

Graces was about to begin listing possible reasons when she noticed Neville on the other side of the pitch.

"Potter! A word, if you will," Graham shouted, moving to the middle of the field and waiting patiently.

"Bit busy!" Harry called before congratulating Ginny on a save.

"Do you need to breathe again?" Blaise asked.

"Not one more word, Zabini!" Graham snarled.

While the rest of the Slytherin team was focused on Graham demanding that Potter come down and speak with him at once, Graces kept her eyes on Neville. He was drenched in sweat and she watched as he picked up a towel from the ground and dabbed the back of his neck.

He couldn't have joined the team. He hated flying. He... was he on the team?

"When did Longbottom join the team?" Blaise asked, a mischievous sparkle in his eye as his attention turned from Graham shouting to Neville.

Graces opened her mouth and wracked her brain for a way to stop what was to come, but came up empty.

"Wow, the Gryffindor team must be beyond desperate if they are allowing Neville Longbottom on the team," Blaise bellowed, making sure every ear on the ground and in the air heard.

Graham stopped mid-shout and turned to where his team was staring. Neville was beet red, but to his credit the rest of him showed no sign of humiliation. He began walking across the field to leave, his towel slung over his shoulder. He nodded at her teammates as he passed, pretending not to hear their snickering and taunts.

"Leaving on account of us, Longbottom," Blaise grinned, walking backwards so he could enjoy the look of humiliation he was about to cause. "I don't believe your captain has dismissed you."

"Leave him alone," Ron growled, flying down and landing beside Neville.

"Temper temper," Blaise tisked. "I was just making conversation."

Harry and the rest of the team had now come to stand by Neville's side, and Graham was immediately nose to nose with the chosen one.

"What is your problem, Potter? I ask you to come down for—"

"What are you all doing here, _Montague_?" Harry asked, his teeth already bared. "We're in the middle of practice!"

"Yes, that's right!" Graham bellowed. "You're in the middle of practice and we reserved the pitch!"

While Harry and Graham argued over the pitch, Graces found herself feeling sick over Neville not telling her about being on the team, if he was on the team. She knew that she kept secrets, but she didn't know that Neville did... Why hadn't he mentioned this?

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn't even noticed she was staring at him until he bent his head slightly down and pointedly met her eye. Graces' cheeks flamed as he raised an eyebrow at her, silently telling her to stop staring.

"When did you join the team?"

Neville looked a bit startled that she would ask him that in front of everyone, but she couldn't help herself. It was on the tip of her tongue, and she couldn't wait to ask about it.

"Uh, well, I'm not on the team."

"You're not."

"I'm not."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"That's none of your concern, Malfoy," Harry shouted, his attention now off Graham.

"Shove off, Potter, I wasn't talking to you." Graces wrinkled her nose in disgust and then turned back to Neville. "So?" she pushed. "What the bloody hell are you doing here if you're not on the team?"

"He has just as much right to be here as you," Ginny broke in.

"That's not true," Crabbe snorted. "Graces is on the team. If he's not on the Gryffindor team then—"

"Is she on the team though?" Ginny asked pleasantly, though there was nothing pleasant in her undertone. "I haven't seen her going to your practices, and she is supposedly out for the season."

"What are you insinuating?" Graham asked, moving away from Harry and coming to stand by her side.

"I just think it's interesting that Harry broke his arm and had all of his bones removed and regrown in one night and didn't miss any practices and she hurts her shoulder in October and hasn't been able to play."

"Her arm is hurt," Blaise informed dangerously.

"Like Draco's arm was hurt third year when he was supposedly attacked by a Hippogriff?" Ginny asked, her eyes not moving from Graces'.

"Tendon and nerves are a lot harder to heal than bone," Neville broke in defensively. "Malfoy very well could still be recovering from her injuries. And-and they all have a point. I shouldn't be here." Neville moved to leave, but Blaise stopped him.

"I'm still curious, Longbottom," the handsome boy continued. "What are you doing here?"

Neville looked to be clenching his teeth and Graces wondered for a moment if he was going to sock her friend, but in the end he answered.

"Running."

"Running," Blaise repeated, looking over at Graces. "Oh, I see. Still got the hots for our Graces? Thinking if you could lose some weight she may be interested in playing with your—"

Blaise didn't get the chance to finish that statement before Graham, of all people, had him by the collar.

"Don't be crude," Graham warned darkly. "I will not have that kind of talk on my team. We are better than that."

Both teams fell silent and Graces realized that Graham, though he didn't mean to, had earned himself an ounce of respect from the Gryffindor team. She wondered if they would have this respect if they knew that Graham just didn't appreciate any sort of crude talk. Maybe it was because he had so many sisters. Maybe it was because he thought they were going to get married.

"We can share the pitch," Harry offered, looking over at the other captain. "We did it with Hufflepuff a few months ago. This isn't the first time Madam Hooch has double booked it. I asked her a few days ago and she said it was fine. She must have forgotten that she had given it to you. You don't usually practice at this time. But—" Harry continued, "—I see no reason why we can't share if we keep our teammates in line."

"Or you could all leave," Graham pointed out, squaring his shoulders and releasing Blaise.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen," Harry laughed. "But we will share the pitch. Deal?"

Graham looked down at Harry's outstretched hand and though he did agree to share, he did not shake on the agreement. He immediately began dividing the pitch and instructed everyone to get warmed up. Graces followed her teammates to the center, but couldn't help but hope Neville would stay. It seemed like he wasn't going to, but, just as she thought he was sure to leave, Ginny ran over to him, clearly not wanting him to just leave on their account.

"Laps, Malfoy."

"Seriously?" Graces ground, though very pleased at the thought.

"Yeah, I meant what I said earlier," Graham murmured distractedly, as he watched the rest of the team do formations. "And you better not slack off either."

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"You're just going to let them run you off?"

"Ginny," Neville implored. "I'm not letting them run me off. I just don't want to deal—"

"You're letting them run you off," Ginny insisted. "And you're better than that. If this was any other day you wouldn't be leaving."

Neville was about to argue until he noticed Graces breaking off from her teammates. And suddenly he didn't care if he got teased a bit. He decided to stay, but he knew better than to approach her. He was in the middle of a lap when the blonde bumped into him, though this time he knew it to be purposeful.

"Malfoy," he greeted, taking a look around to make sure no one was paying attention.

"Longbottom," Graces smirked. "So... you're not on the team."

"No, you've seen me on a broom," Neville laughed breathlessly. "Plus, as you well know, I hate flying."

"So ... you just run around while they play?"

"They do ground stuff too," Neville reminded. "I work out with them."

"Why?"

"I think that's a pretty obvious answer, don't you?"

Neville felt a bit irked that Graces was asking him so many questions while his lungs were burning; he also was a bit embarrassed that she was not at all out of breath.

"You never mentioned that you were working out with the team."

"I did say I was working out though, remember? The morning I left for winter holiday you asked if I had been working out."

Graces was silent for a few moments, which Neville was especially grateful for.

"It shows," she said quietly.

Neville glanced over at her running beside him and had to stop himself from grinning. He really wasn't doing it just for her. He wanted to look better for himself, but he he would be lying if he said he didn't want her to look at him like that.

"Careful, Malfoy, you don't want your teammates to see you checking me out."

"They can't see from that far up," Graces shrugged, though she did stop looking.

Neville was at the point where he would usually stop for a cool down, but, not wanting to be the first to stop, he kept going, doing his best to keep pace with the blonde.

They were on another lap when Graham Montague joined them.

"Malfoy, I know you can run faster than this," the older boy growled, clearly at his wits' end with her.

"Shove off, Montague," Graces panted, her face now glossy with sweat. "I'm on my second mile."

"I was not kidding about what I said earlier," Graham said through gritted teeth. "Now pick up the pace! I know for a fact you can lap Longbottom here."

"You have a problem, Longbottom?" Graham challenged when he caught Neville giving him a dirty glare. Neville shook his head no, knowing that if he tried to defend Graces it would only end badly. Better to let Montague think that he was angry over his comment.

"She wouldn't lap me," he grumbled.

"Oh, I would lap you," Graces grinned, picking up her pace. "You would be eating my dust, Longbottom."

"Beat me? Yes. Lap me? No."

"I would bet my entire estate I could lap you," Graces laughed, now sprinting.

"Malfoy," Graham growled warningly.

"Well, I wouldn't want you and yours to be homeless," Neville panted, sprinting with her. "But I wouldn't be opposed to a friendly wager."

"Oh? Do you miss wearing Slytherin green?" Graces taunted, a sparkle appearing in her eye.

"Malfoy!"

Neville was kind of enjoying the way she was ignoring Graham Montague in favor of him.

"It's going to be you losing this time, Malfoy."

"What are the stakes?"

"Graces!" Graham grabbed her arm and jerked her back, seething with rage. "What are you doing?!" he demanded, looking over at Neville and then back at her.

Neville could feel his heart pounding in his chest. This had been a mistake. He could see it now.

"Preparing to humiliate, Longbottom," Graces frowned, as though this was completely obvious.

"Really? That's what you're doing?"

"What do you think I was doing?" Graces asked, her face now stone as she crossed her arms in front of her.

Graham didn't answer, but Neville could tell he had some suspicions. The older boy looked over at him again and Neville didn't dare breathe as Graham's jaw tightened.

"So what's the bet, Longbottom?" Graces asked, walking back over towards him.

"Uh, nevermind. I think I'll just—"

"Oh, no you don't," Graces objected. "I'm bored, and frankly I didn't want to be here at all," Graces added, giving Graham a look that could kill. "So come on, Longbottom, make my day interesting again."

When Neville didn't answer Graces pursed her lips and stated that she knew what she wanted.

"And what's that?" Neville asked quietly, his nerves getting more out of his control as Graham continued to glare at him.

"I want the extra credit assignment that Professor Sprout has offered the class. Obviously, I wouldn't do so well with it, but if you did it for me," Graces waved her hand and let her voice trail off. "It would make up for the project I failed earlier this year."

"I-I could help you with that anyways," Neville offered, his heart pounding in his chest.

"I don't like feeling as though I owe you anything," Graces drawled. "This would be fair. What do you want?"

"I don't know..."

"Bull, what do you want?"

"Fine! You're dismissed," Graham contended. "You're done. No more practices until your shoulder is better. You won, Malfoy. Happy?"

"Really? Perfect. Thanks, Graham. Now, Longbottom, back to this bet."

Graham made some noise of frustration and a few moments later the whole Slytherin team was down wanting to know what was going on.

"Nothing," Graces grinned. "I'm about to completely humiliate Longbottom here. He seems to believe he could beat me in a race."

"Not beat," Neville corrected, blushing. "Just, well, you wouldn't be able to lap me."

"Oh, that's just too rich," Blaise laughed. "She will lap you, Longbottom. She can lap some of us."

Crabbe and Goyle both looked away in embarrassment, answering Neville's question of who which made him feel immensely better. If she was lapping Graham or Blaise he would think twice about his statement, but even _he_ could probably lap Crabbe and Goyle.

"What are you asking for?" Blaise questioned, clearly excited over the prospect of Neville being humiliated further.

"An extra credit project to be done for me. I could use it for Herbology."

"Merlin knows that's the truth," Zabini laughed. "I still don't understand why you bother with that class. You're awful with plants."

"Healer program," Graces reminded, rolling her eyes.

"What's Longbottom asking for?"

"He's getting cold feet, so he's not asking for anything yet."

Neville glared at Graces, but the blonde just lifted an eyebrow, silently inviting his next move.

"Fine," Neville contended. "Breakfast. You have to sit at the Gryffindor table for breakfast." Graces' jaw dropped but Neville continued. "And you have to treat all of us like purebloods. Like-like you would anyone at your own Slytherin table."

"Forget it," Graces quipped, moving to walk off the pitch. "Not worth it."

"Scared, Malfoy?" Potter challenged, descending down and dismounting from his broom. The rest of the Gryffindor team came down as well, but Graham, still clearly furious with Graces defiance, ordered his team to go back up and make use of the clear air. The Slytherins were groaning, but the moment Graham started shouting they were all grabbing their brooms. From Graces' wide eyes he had a feeling that Graham rarely lost it like this.

"So?" Harry continued, his emerald eyes alive with amusement. "Still wanting to back down, Malfoy?"

Graces gritted her teeth, but waved Neville to line up with her.

"This was a mistake wasn't it?" Neville asked, his mouth dry as his housemates started cheering him on.

"Possibly," Graces admitted.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't worry," Graces whispered. "It was my fault. All of it. It will be taken care of, don't stress. Just don't win."

"K."

"One mile, okay? Ready. Set. Go!"

Neville didn't have to let Graces beat him, the blonde was much faster than he expected. She had been holding back earlier. He found himself running as fast as he possibly could just so he wouldn't be further humiliated. He suddenly realized that Graces, aside from being in better shape, was also probably a big runner.

He was starting to realize that while he could run a mile in a bit over ten minutes, Graces could run it closer to five. She was easily going to lap him. Despite the fact that he knew he wanted Graces to win, he was feeling pretty humiliated.

He could hear her coming up behind him and knew that she was slowing down for no other reason than to not embarrass him more than necessary. She stayed a good distance away, clearly waiting until the final lap, but Neville wished she would just get it over with. It was obvious she could pass him now.

He was about to stop and just let her pass when he heard her yelp with pain. He turned around to see Graces sprawled out on the pitch yelling up at her teammates who had allowed a bludger to slip by and hit her.

Graham whizzed towards her, bellowing out his own disapproval to Crabbe and Goyle, before lowering himself down over her. Harry was already there, inspecting her leg.

"How did you not see it coming for you?" Harry asked astounded. "It was coming on your left and—"

"I was distracted!" Graces yelled, pushing Harry away from her and moving closer to Graham. "Is it broken?" she asked, looking up.

"I don't think so," Graham murmured, his hand on her outer thigh. "We should take you to the infirmary to be sure."

"Do you need some help?" Neville asked, helping to hoist her up on her legs.

"No," Graham declared curtly, picking her up with ease and holding her steady. "Not from you."

**Don't forget to KUDO/ Subscribe/ review! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!**


	74. Chapter 74

"Graham, you can put me down."

Graces was beginning to realize she was in deep water and on board a ship that was racing towards an iceberg. Graham had not broken his stride since he picked her up and carried her away from Neville, and he had not looked at her since either.

"Graham," she whispered, her nerves getting the better of her as he practically kicked the castle doors open. She didn't know what to say, if she should say anything at all. Dread had overtaken all of her senses and she gripped Graham harder so her trembling hands wouldn't betray her fear.

"This isn't the way to the infirmary."

"No, it's not," Graham agreed, kicking open the door to an abandoned classroom.

Graces would have screamed if she wasn't in such shock. Everything seemed to be happening with lightning speed. Before she could even contemplate where she was Graham was slamming the door with such force that the window in the corner shook with his rage. She moved back on the desk he had set her on and could barely breathe. If she had sense she would have grabbed her wand, but instead she just sat there frozen.

"NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM?!"

_And there it was..._

"TELL ME YOU'RE NOT THAT STUPID! TELL ME YOU'RE NOT LITERALLY THROWING YOUR LIFE AWAY FOR SOMEONE SO BENEATH YOU!"

The fear that she had harbored always in the back of her mind was now coming out. Suddenly, she wished she had listened to all the reasons she had for vowing to keep her distance from Neville. Graham was shaking her so hard that her good sense was coming back.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" She lied. Oh she had become so good at that in the past months.

"I should kill you now," Graham growled. "I would if it would save Draco. He doesn't deserve this! I DON'T DESERVE THIS! I am risking everything, everything for you two!"

"Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong!" she maintained, unsure if she was crying because she had been caught or because Graham's words were so right.

"Don't you dare lie to me." A threat. A promise. Oh she was in a tangled web. "Do you know what they will do to you? To Draco? TO ME?!"

"Graham, please—"

"The boy you mentioned. The boy you said you had a crush on in October. The boy you mentioned to me at the lake. It's—"

"Thomas," Graces finished, looking up at Graham pleadingly. "It's Thomas."

Whatever rage Graham was feeling died away. Graces hiccupped a sob, a real one, and continued on with her new web of lies.

"I love Thomas."

It felt so wrong to say that the tears came easily. She covered her face with her hands and let the sorrow take hold of her.

"Thomas?" Graham repeated, dumbfounded.

Graces only nodded and continued to sob. The lie felt worse than the truth.

"You're-you're in love with... Thomas? Thomas Higgs?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Graces croaked. "I almost died for him. I-I was going to drop out of school and raise a child for him. I—" Graces took a moment to collect herself. "I'm taking the mark for him." She stared up at Graham's face and knew he believed her. There was such horror and sadness in him as he looked down at her. "I love him."

Graham turned away and she sat motionless as he put everything she had said together. He looked over his shoulder at her a few times, before taking a seat.

"But-but you and Longbottom, the race, the tutoring, the... he came to your bedside when you were hurt. He—"

"He has been a great resource of mine," Graces cut off. "Don't you see that? I needed to do well in Herbology. Being cordial with Longbottom was in my best interest. Being friendly with him has allowed me many gains, not to mention using his ill-placed affection for me allowed me to help Thomas."

Graham stared at her waiting for more.

"Longbottom's grandmother is on the board for child welfare. I—" Graces swallowed for effect and bit her lip "I asked him to give me his grandmother's vote. Augusta Longbottom is a very well respected witch. I knew with her vote Thomas would gain custody."

"How did you convince him to do that for you?"

"I cried," Graces said quietly. "I cried and begged and-and made it clear I would do anything. Anything at all."

Graces didn't remove her eyes from Grahams. The older boy paled and opened his mouth like a fish out of water a few times before asking if she slept with him to get that vote.

"I didn't need to," Graces whispered hollowly. "The nice thing about Neville Longbottom is he would never take advantage of anyone. He was actually quite fair. He informed me that if I could get a suitable adult to help Thomas care for the child he would use his powers as patriarch to seal his grandmother's vote."

"That _is_ fair."

"Very," Graces nodded, brushing away a few tears. "He's very fair like that. Very kind... righteous. In another world I think Longbottom and I could be very good friends. But in this... in this world it's so different. I haven't really been able to bring myself to forget that kindness. I even sometimes find myself feeling badly for how I treated him when he asked me out."

"He has done a lot for me," Graces breathed. "So much. Helping me with herbology, not taking advantage of the life debt I offered him, getting me his grandmother's vote... aiding me when I was hurt and keeping my secrets. I can't bring myself to not be friendly with him at times. I try to act the way I should towards him, but at the same time I am so grateful. He's done a lot for me, and I only have heartache to offer him," she rasped, looking up at Graham imploringly to understand. "When he asked me out in front of everyone I realized I let it go too far. I didn't want to hurt him. I just needed to push him away, needed him to see me for what I am... for what I did. I thought he understood that I just used him, but he still isn't cruel to me and I can't bring myself to be cruel to him now."

"Octavian makes Thomas so happy. Makes me so happy," Graces smiled, real tears glistening in her eyes. "Neville Longbottom did that. And I will forever be grateful. Neville Longbottom will always hold a special place in my heart, because he gave me Octavian."

Graham was silent for a long time. Graces wondered if it all worked, if her new web of lies was strong enough to keep him from the truth.

"Do you think that because Thomas has that child he will always need you?" Graham asked gently.

"I don't know." She wasn't sure what to say. None of this was true.

"Does he know?"

"That Neville helped—"

"No," Graham shook. "Does Thomas know you are in love with him?"

There was a long pause, before Graces shook her head.

"I treat him like a child. If anything I think he feels like he is my child," she added quietly. "It's easier this way. Draco would never allow us to be together."

"For good reason."

Graces frowned. She didn't want to be with Thomas that way, but she despised being told she couldn't do something.

"He has nothing," Graham reminded. "He can't even protect himself. He has no family. If the rest of the Higgs clan was alive your family wouldn't have approved of the match. He would have been one of the weaker members of the family. He—"

"The Higgs family wasn't like that," Graces cut in. "You know Terrance had no system. Everyone was listened to equally."

"He still wasn't a patriarch or an heir. They wouldn't have accepted it unless they had to. The only thing he could have offered you was a family name that protected itself with an army of generations, and we all saw how easily that fell."

"You don't need to remind me of my situation. I know the situation."

Graham swallowed some emotion and moved from where he was sitting and took the space residing next to her.

"I love Wamil," he confessed. "I love her eyes, the way she always smiles. I love that she hums in the hall and that she shows all her emotions on her sleeve. I love that she's obsessed with color. Heaven forbid she doesn't have some kind of colorful pin on her uniform or in her hair. I love that she-that she thinks everyone is good and worth affection. I love that she thinks Hufflepuff is the best house and that she cries when spring comes because she will miss the snow. I love that I never speak to her and I know all this about her. She's an open book and I love her..." Graces must have looked stunned, because Graham flushed and looked down at his shoes. "I think she loves- loved," he corrected "me too. But I destroyed that the other day. I had to. Nothing could ever come from it. I would only get her killed. She would only get me killed, me and my family. She's probably going to die in the war. She's too Hufflepuff to stay out of it, but I can still save myself and my sisters."

Graces listened to everything he was saying about Wamil and tried to push her thoughts away from Neville. She didn't know when she took his hand, but she did notice that he didn't move it away from her. Even when the daylight left they were in darkness still holding hands. He didn't cry or say another word about Wamil, but she knew his thoughts were with her just as her thoughts were with Neville. She didn't go back to her and Neville's room that night. She stayed with Graham in that classroom until she started drifting to sleep and at that point he helped heal her badly bruised leg and they went to the common room.

She expected Draco to be angry about not knowing where they had been, but he ignored it and they all spent a quiet evening by the fire. As Draco and Graham played a game of wizard's chess she could tell he was thinking the same thing she was. This would be simple. If they could fall in love then their world would be so pleasant. She imagined a world where Draco lived and he came over nightly to be with her and hang out with Graham. They would probably join forces and be business partners together. It would all be so easy... And yet when she thought about her and Graham alone together in their "marital bliss" she felt sick and lonely.

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Harry stared at the map in his hands. Draco was in the Slytherin common room, and had been the whole night, but he couldn't help but continue to watch his name on the map. He knew the snake was up to something and he knew whatever it was had to do with the Voldemort. Draco had been acting strange all year and earlier today. He had looked at the map and Draco had been nowhere to be found. He had completely vanished. This hadn't been the first time this had occurred. Before Harry had written it off as him being too tired to actually find him on the map. Another time he had just wondered, but not had the time to seriously look into it, but now... now he felt as if he needed to get to the bottom of why Draco was not showing on the map sometimes.

Harry racked his brain for how he was leaving the school. Security in the castle was at an all time high, so he couldn't possibly be leaving without anyone noticing and Hermione always said apparition wasn't a possibility. So what was Draco doing? Everything was inspected at the beginning of term so if he had a portkey it would have been evaluated. Harry tore his eyes away from the map when he heard someone enter the common room.

"Neville," Harry said surprised. "What are you doing? It's late. Wait. When did you leave?"

"Earlier. Couldn't sleep. I, uh, snuck out to see if Malfoy was still in the infirmary. She wasn't."

Harry felt as uncomfortable as Neville looked and had a good mind to just nod and dismiss Neville's concern for Malfoy number two, but something inside him told him to talk with his friend. "You still have a thing for her?"

Neville nodded and shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot.

"I hope she's okay."

"She is," Harry offered. "She's with her brother and Graham in the Slytherin common room."

"How do you know that?"

"Map," Harry grinned, holding up the map for Neville to see. "I was checking on something with Draco and, well, she's with him so..."

Neville came forward from the shadows and stared at Graces' name on the parchment.

"So, looked like you and Malfoy two were having fun earlier," Harry commented, feeling a bit awkward as Neville continued to stare at the name.

"Yeah, we were. She can be a lot of fun when she's not being so..."

"Malfoy."

"Yeah, that's a good way to put it," Neville laughed tiredly.

"I still don't get it."

"You would have to see her with her guard down."

Harry let out a small laugh, he doubted any Malfoy would have their guard down when they were aware of his presence. Harry looked over at his friend and felt a pang of guilt to see that Neville was lost in his own thoughts of Graces. He looked so sad and dejected and Harry had a feeling that his small laugh only hurt his friend.

"Sorry, I—"

"It's fine," Neville shrugged. "Like I said. I'm aware of how she is to others."

"Would you, uh, want to talk about it?" Harry offered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I highly doubt you want to hear me fawn over Graces Malfoy," Neville smirked, leaning against an arm rest. Harry honestly didn't, but in an effort to be a good friend invited Neville to go ahead. The sandy-haired boy raised a skeptical brow, before smiling and bowing his head to hide his expression.

"Should I talk about her magnificent eyes?" Neville asked, his voice taking on an overly love sick tone. "The stormy-weather eyes that I long to get lost in? Or maybe her beautiful, peony-pink lips? Or—"

Neville ducked as Harry chucked a spare throw pillow at his head. Harry feigned being sick over Neville's idea of a joke and the other Gryffindor just continued roaring with laughter.

"You're such an ass."

"I don't know what you were expecting," Neville grinned, taking a seat in the armchair across the way.

"I was hoping you could be serious with me."

Neville gave a small smile that didn't quite meet his eyes and laid back in the chair staring up at the ceiling before closing his eyes tiredly.

"Seriously, Nev, talk to me. Why Malfoy? Why her even after she rejected you so callously?"

"The heart wants what it wants."

Harry gritted his teeth and looked back down at the map in his hand.

"She seemed nice on the pitch... when we were all practicing and she was running with you. What were you two talking about?"

"You saw that?" Neville asked, opening his eyes and sitting back up.

"Yeah, I was checking on you. You know, making sure the Slytherins were behaving. She was even smiling at you."

Neville laughed at Harry's obvious surprise before rubbing his eyes and saying they were just talking and that it was of nothing in particular.

"I've told you before she's not that bad," Neville said, trying hard to stop smiling.

"Is that why you wanted her to have breakfast with us? So we could see that?"

Neville flashed him a tired look and weak smile.

"Harry, I don't ever expect you or anyone to understand why I adore that girl. Maybe it's best to say I'm a bit of a masochist. I only wished to have her company during breakfast since she is no longer tutoring me."

"Then why the stipulation to have her treat us all well?"

"It wouldn't exactly be a pleasant breakfast if she was treating everyone disdainfully."

Harry was silent for a few moments while he mulled all this over in his mind.

"Can I ask you something?" Neville began, looking exceptionally uncomfortable.

"Sure."

"You don't spy on Graces with that do you?"

"No, not really, only when she's with her brother. Why?"

Neville pinked and became exceptionally interested in his shoes.

"Can I admit I'm a bit jealous... maybe slightly possessive, though she's not mine to be possessive with."

"I'm sorry I don't quite follow."

"I don't want you watching her on there," Neville said flatly. "I don't want you knowing when she's in the bath or undressing or studying. I like her. It would bother me if I knew you were opening that map and watching her intimately."

"Merlin, Neville, it doesn't show me what she's doing. I can't see her."

"You know where she's at though and that could tell you enough."

Harry actually felt a surge of guilt at Neville's words and he became even more unsettled as Neville continued to glare at him.

"I don't watch her!" he exclaimed defensively.

"You better keep it that way too, mate."

"Looking at Graces like that would be like looking at Draco like that!" Harry pointed out.

"You're a bit obsessed with that one. You're not making me feel much better on that front," Neville said mildly, his eyes not moving away from Harry's.

"I am not obsessed," Harry said sharply, his jaw almost to the ground. "I—"

"Kidding," Neville interrupted, looking all too pleased with himself. "You know I'm kidding."

Harry's cheeks were still burning from the insinuation, but he nodded his head.

"You won't spy on her though?" Neville asked quietly.

"Neville, if I see her on this map it's cause she's with her brother. I don't search her out."

Neville seemed satisfied with this answer and leaned back against the chair he was in. He was clearly tired, but seemed content to nod off in the common room instead of upstairs in his warm bed. Harry wondered if Neville was still going to wake up early and go to the greenhouse. He had taken to going to bed early and waking up really early in order to tend to his plants in the greenhouse. Since winter break Harry had not woken up once to see Neville in the room. He usually was gone by dawn.

Harry wondered if Neville thought about Graces the way he thought about Ginny. He didn't see how he could feel for her the way he did. With Ginny it was so different. He knew her. He talked to her daily. They joked around. He stayed over at her home during breaks, but Neville didn't have that with Graces.

It was odd to see how open Neville was with his feelings as well. Here he was not able to talk about his feelings for Ginny because he was scared what Ron would think and Neville just threw care to the wind and declared that he loved her, loved her despite what his friends, family and she thought. If he hadn't shown how Gryffindor he was last year in the Ministry, he definitely would have seen it right now.

"Neville, you-you don't by chance know where Graces and Draco disappear to some evenings do you? It's as if they're not in the castle anymore... usually after dinner. I know you and Graces don't talk personally, but—"

"I don't know," Neville murmured sleepily. "Maybe they go see Octavian- that baby Thomas Higgs has on weekends. They have portkeys to the Higgs manor. They are both Octavian's godparents."

"They can leave the school?"

Neville didn't answer. He was already lost to sleep. Harry cursed and tried to wake him up, but the responses he got back were just mumbles and yawns. He clearly wasn't going to get any answers out of Neville tonight, and he had a feeling that when morning came Neville wouldn't know too much on the matter anyways.

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Graces pondered over how much trouble she was going to be in that evening when she met with Neville. She highly doubted that he was pleased with her considering she had not come home that evening, nor had she sent him a note explaining that she would not be there. Neville was pretty easy going, it was rare he asked questions about where she was and who she was with. Sometimes she wondered if he didn't ask because he didn't want to know.

Still, she hadn't owled, mostly because she wanted some distance. Graham had almost found out. Her deepest, darkest secret had for a moment been exposed because of her own carelessness. She looked over at her brother as she walked with him to the Great Hall for breakfast. Graham was right. He didn't deserve this. Graham didn't deserve this. She was risking their lives for, well, not for nothing. She wouldn't say that Neville Longbottom was nothing to her. He was a lot to her.

And he was a lot to them, though they didn't know it. She and Draco had safety in Neville. They truly did. It was a last resort, but it was there. In a way her relationship with Neville wasn't that negligent to her family's welfare. Not to mention he was the reason Thomas had a family.

Still, she had to be more careful. She couldn't afford such a slip again. Graham believed her about Thomas and her reasons on why she couldn't be cruel to Neville, but Graham was no idiot. If she continued to slip he would see through her lies and considering that he was in the same situation and had given up his happiness she doubted he would be so understanding towards her.

"What are you thinking about?"

Graces startled at her brother's inquiry, before quickly telling him nothing. Draco furrowed his brow slightly and seem inclined to press her, but Harry Potter interrupted him.

"Malfoy!"

Draco glared as Harry rushed over to them from the other side of the Great Hall, cutting his way between a gaggle of Ravenclaws with his tousled, jet-black hair and a hideous sweater with a giant H on the front. As though the wizarding world didn't know the first letter of his given name.

"What do you want Potter?" Draco spat contemptuously, moving forward to their own table, causing the Gryffindor to follow.

"From you? Nothing," Harry informed, dislike coating his every syllable as he turned to Graces. "I should have been more specific. I wanted Graces Malfoy. Not you."

"Excuse me?" Graces gaped, knowing where this was heading and terrified at the idea. She stood by her spot at the Slytherin table, her fingers gently touching the wood where she would sit, she was so close, and yet she knew she was so very far.

"You didn't lap Neville," Harry reminded, his eyes not moving from hers, despite her attempts to escape his stare. "So you should be joining us for breakfast."

"Oh, come off it, Potter. I was injured. It doesn't count. I could have lapped Longbottom at any moment and—"

"But you didn't," Harry reminded. "You didn't lap him, meaning he won the bet."

Graces could feel herself vibrating with uneasiness. She only made that stupid bet because she wanted to have some time with Neville, and she wanted to cover her tracks. She also knew without a doubt that she could lap him.

"I'm not sitting with you," she proclaimed firmly, turning her back to take her seat beside her brother. Harry grabbed her arm and in an instant Draco's hand was gripping Potter's. Graces' heart pounded in her chest when she realized Harry and Draco were in a standoff, her brother's left hand gripping the Gryffindor's while Harry's other hand had released her and was now on her brother's wrist.

He wanted to look. It was written all over his face. He wanted to try and pull up her brother's sleeve and see what resided on his porcelain skin. The problem was he had one arm being held by Draco and the other on his wrist, while Draco had one arm holding him and the other clutching his wand.

"My sister has given you her answer," Draco whispered, his words chilling the air around them. "Leave, Potter."

"No," Harry said firmly. "A bet's a bet. Neville would have carried out his end of the deal, it's only fair she fulfills hers."

Graces let her hand drop from the table and stood staring at the boy in front of her. Trying to decipher why he was doing this. She gently touched into his mind before she was swiftly pushed out and those emerald eyes were now glaring at her.

"Don't."

Draco scowled at Harry's sudden hostility towards her, but Graces just put her hand up to her brother, silently asking for his compliance.

"You don't want me there anymore than I want to be there. So tell me, Potter, what's your angle in this?"

"No angle." Like she believed that. Potter wasn't that cool of a liar. He wore his suspicions. "It's just breakfast, Malfoy. And I give you my word. We will not make it harder for you than it has to be. We wouldn't do that to Neville who, for some reason beyond all of us, still enjoys your company."

"I would think you would want to discourage his obviously ill-placed affections for me," Graces challenged, hoping beyond hope she could get out of this situation.

"I'm curious," Harry informed, placing his hand out for her. "He refuses to discuss you, so this is the perfect opportunity for us to see what it is he sees in you other than your pretty face."

Graces raised an eyebrow at the backhanded compliment, but Harry didn't flinch or look at all embarrassed for it. He just waited. She turned to Draco for support, thinking he would of course come with her, but to her shock he just released Harry and sat back down in his chair.

"Oh no, you made the bet. You go into the lion's den alone," Draco stated firmly, taking a sip of tea.

"Draco!"

"I am not sitting with the Gryffindors. You're on your own."

She would have argued if she had not seen Harry's obvious interest in Draco joining them. He definitely had a motive, and Draco would be vulnerable. She didn't doubt that Harry would try to pull another stunt like back in October. Leave it to a Gryffindor to just try and pull up someone's sleeve.

She left her brother sitting alone at the table, enjoying his tea and toast while she felt she was being lead by an executioner. Harry seemed to be regretting his decision with each passing step.

"I thought I was the one supposed to be made uncomfortable," she quipped coolly, noting the way Harry's eyes kept shifting all around.

"I didn't exactly tell anyone I was going to make you live up to your end of the bet... including Neville."

Graces tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ears and tried to calm her nerves. She was about to be fed to the lions. Harry had not warned them of her coming. She looked over to see what Neville was doing at the table and realized he had not appeared yet. She silently groaned as she realized he must be in their room hoping she would appear.

They were about to pass the entrance to the Great Hall when Graham came through and stopped dead at seeing her and the Chosen one walking together.

"The bet," Graces flushed, already knowing that later she was going to get an earful from both him and Draco.

"I see," Graham said slowly, his eyes holding hers for a moment longer than necessary before turning to Harry's. "Draco isn't willing to accompany you?"

"I fear he is teaching me a lesson."

Graham gave a thoughtful nod and then turned to Harry.

"May I join you?"

Harry and Graces' eyes both widened at the statement, but Graham just stood casually as though this were not at all an outrageous request.

"You don't have to, Graham, really," Graces insisted. "Thank you, but—"

Graces allowed her words to fall as Graham gave her a say-no-more glare and waited for Harry to answer him. It was all too obvious Harry did not want him to join, but he seemed to be remembering that Graham was one of the very few people in the Slytherin house that had treated him with any semblance of respect, and the Gryffindor ended up agreeing.

She should have probably been comforted by Graham's presence, but oddly enough him coming with her put her nerves even more on edge. He noticed how she acted with Neville yesterday, and, though she had given a valid reasons why she treated him the way she did, she still felt that he was watching her.

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"Morning," Neville mumbled, still bleary-eyed and half asleep. His neck hurt. Well, neck, shoulders and lower back. Sleeping in anything other than a bed was a bad idea on his part. He sourly rubbed his right shoulder and wished he could burn all the uncomfortable chairs in the castle.

It took him a few moments to realize that the greetings he received back all seemed forced. He looked around him to see what commotion was causing this melancholy at the table and saw it sitting across from him in Slytherin green.

He froze as he stared at Graces sitting across from him, her silver eyes taking in his reaction just as nervously as he was taking in hers.

"Hi!" It was all he could think of and he flushed as the whole table seemed to notice his eagerness. Graces stared across the table at him for a few moments before nodding a short greeting back. Neville sat frozen, staring at her, unable to believe she was really sitting across from him.

"How's your leg?"

"Fine."

"Really cause it, well, you were hit pretty hard. I mean you even asked Montague if he thought it was broken and he carried you off the field and—"

A slow blink. "Badly bruised."

"Oh, well, that's good," Neville nodded, nervously tapping his foot under the table as he tried to think of what else to say. "Did you at least see Pomfrey about it? You know, just to be sure?"

"There was no need. I was able to tend to it."

Neville hadn't even noticed Graham sitting right beside her. He immediately looked around at the table and saw that the all of his friends seemed to have a piqued interest in his reaction to Graces. He flushed as he realized that he had made it just all too obvious how over the moon he was. One glance at the blonde and his world had disappeared to the point where he neglected everything else. He was glad he at least had the mind to ensure the conversation he kept with her had been appropriate.

"I believe the words you are searching for are 'Good morning, Montague'," Graham said, confidently taking a swig from his goblet.

Neville's mouth tightened as he turned to Harry.

"Why are they here?"

"I would think that obvious," Graces drawled, plucking a muffin from in front of her and examining it, before flicking her eyes back over to Neville. "I'm a gift."

Neville stiffened at her words and the grin she sent over to Harry. He knew that grin. That grin meant pain, maybe not now, but definitely later.

"In fact, I'm surprised he didn't dip me in yogurt and wrap me up in a fine bow," Graces continued sweetly, her eyes not moving away from Harry's.

"Neville doesn't like yogurt," Harry shrugged, "and a bow is a bit flamboyant."

"You don't have to be here, Malfoy," Neville dismissed. "We didn't get to finish the race."

"It wasn't really a race," Harry reminded. "She just said she could lap you and she didn't."

Graham straightened. "She could have lapped him. That was obvious. Longbottom here was struggling and she was barely winded and right on his heels." Graham turned and looked down at Graces with disapproval. "Someone just enjoys gloating too much. She's like a cat that plays with the mouse before eating it and then pouts when it bites her and scurries away."

Graces kissed the air between them, causing Graham to roll his eyes and turn his attention away from her.

"Well, it doesn't matter," Neville continued, ignoring the jealousy boiling in his gut at Graces and Graham's exchange. "I say it wasn't a valid bet, so they're free to leave."

Graces stood to leave, but Harry—with his seeker reflexes—stopped her, pulling her back down in her seat.

"No way! You wore those ridiculous robes after you lost a bet! No. Malfoy has to stay."

Neville growled at a warning and repeated for the Slytherins to leave, but Harry wouldn't budge. He refused to release Graces and even pulled Dean and Seamus into agreeing with him. Ron obviously sided with Neville, and Hermione pointedly stayed out of it all, though she did seem inclined to want Graces to leave as well.

"No! She has to sit here for half an hour and eat breakfast! She has to participate in polite conversation and treat everyone, Hermione included, with the same respect she would show any other pureblood!"

"Why don't you just hex him?" Neville bellowed, the words snapping out of him.

Graces couldn't stop herself from laughing at Neville's outburst and the whole table looked over at her strangely as they heard the sound. It wasn't malicious. The smile she had wasn't feral and even the way her hand rested on her chest as she continued giggling showed them a hint of the woman he had fallen in love with.

"Because, Longbottom, you can't just hex the _chosen one_ in the middle of the Great Hall," Graces giggled, not noticing the looks she was receiving. "Can you imagine what kind of fate would befall me if I did so?"

"Point," Neville chuckled.

"You know you could do the gentlemanly thing in this scenario and hex Potter for me."

Neville fought the twitching in his lips. "Sorry, Malfoy, I refuse to do someone else's dirty work."

"Damn," Graces cursed, a familiar glint showing in her eye. "Can't blame a girl for trying, though."

"I suppose not," Neville smiled, shaking his head subtly as he poured himself some tea and asking Graces if she would like some as well.

Graces seemed as though for a second she was inclined to say yes, but she quickly changed her face back to a mask of stone and declined. The moment was gone.

"So, I'm to be pleasant. Am I correct?"

"Yes," Neville nodded, finding himself a tad bit excited for this. "As pleasant as you can be."

"Right, ah, Potter, care to divulge your potion secrets?"

Harry almost spit out his juice at Graces behaving so cordially to him. "Potion secrets?"

"Yes, and don't tell me there isn't one. You're doing better than Granger over there, so you must have a secret."

Neville wondered if Graces knew she had just paid Hermione a compliment. Hermione seemed to notice. Her cheeks had turned a heavy pink and she held the book she was reading closer to her chest.

"There's no secret."

"That's such rubbish!" Graces exclaimed, actually poking Harry playfully in the arm. "You're a terrible liar, Potter, and I'm relentless so you might as well just tell me."

"No secret," Harry maintained. "Just-just good old fashion studying."

"Well, if that's the case why weren't you always good in Potions?"

"Well, it helps that there is a better Potions professor now as well," Harry pointed out, not the least bit ashamed to make a jab at Snape.

"Professor Snape is a very talented potions master," Graham pointed out flatly.

"Doesn't make him a good teacher," Ron muttered under his breath, shooting a dirty look over at where Snape was seated.

"So is Slughorn giving you private lessons?" Graces inquired, clearly truly interested in this topic. "Is that what you mean by 'better potions professor'? Is that code for private tutoring?"

"I really am just studying more," Harry insisted, a small amused smile playing in the corner of his mouth. "I am very flattered you noticed my improvement though, Malfoy. Truly I am."

Graces' brought her knuckle to her mouth and pressed her lips closed for a few moments.

"You okay there?"

"I'm sorry, I had to remind myself there to continue being pleasant," Graces said, giving Harry one of her most charming of smiles. Neville actually felt a bit of pride as Harry seemed to get a little drunk off it and he made a mental note to tease him relentlessly for the brief moment.

Neville didn't even care that Graces was talking to everyone else besides him. It was wonderful seeing her interacting with his friends, talking with Lavender and Pavarti about makeup, Seamus and Dean about Quidditch and now Harry about her godson.

"He's getting so big," Graces smiled thoughtfully. "I can't believe how much he's grown. I feel like I miss ages during the week. He comes back bigger and sharper than ever."

"Oh, so you and Draco don't see your godson during the week?" Harry asked eagerly. "I thought you were able to see him during the week."

Graces eyes narrowed, but she didn't reply.

"Okay, now I'm starting to be just a bit creeped out," Dean laughed, leaning into Neville. "Is this why you like her?" Neville nodded distractedly, still keeping an eye on Graces. "She's... well—"

"Enchanting," Neville finished.

"Yeah... I guess that's the word."

"Refined is a better word," Graces smiled, her eyes sparkling as she placed her chin in her palm. "I'm refined. Elegant and cultured in appearance, manners and taste. Don't be a fool to mistake being refined as being genuine."

Harry interrupted again, not caring that Graces was pointedly ignoring his previous question. "You and Draco are often missing from the castle, so if you're not seeing Octavian then—"

"I'm sorry," Graces interrupted. "How would you know if we are missing from the castle?"

It was now Harry's turn to become tight-lipped. The two students stared at each other, each knowing that there was deceit in the other and neither knowing how to coarse it out.

"Why do you think I leave the castle, Potter?" Graces repeated, tilting her head slightly to gain a better view of his famous green eyes.

"I just assumed," Harry lied, his own posture giving him away. Harry never sat up so straight, held someone's stare so long. Even if Neville didn't know the truth, he would know Harry was lying.

"Assumed."

"Yes, assumed."

"Why would you assume that?"

Harry opened his mouth before he had words formed for an explanation. Neville watched as Graces eyes began to rage the more Harry stumbled for an explanation.

"Are you spying on me?" Graces asked darkly. Neville wondered if she realized she moved closer to Harry, so close her nose was almost touching his. "You are! You're spying on-on Draco. You—"

"Get out of my head!"

Graces moved back as though she had been pushed and Neville realized that she in a way had been. Graham braced her against him, frowning as to why she shot back, but an exchange of looks between them told him everything he needed to know in that moment.

Graces turned away from Harry and stared across the table at him. There was no anger, no distrust, no betrayal, just a single question. A single question that he knew he wouldn't be able to answer. How could he tell her about the map?

"I, uh, heard you had portkeys," Harry muttered, keeping his eyes forward and far away from Neville.

"I see." Graces stared across the table at Neville and he prayed she would know him well enough to realize that if he mentioned the portkeys to Harry there was a good reason. She turned back to Harry. "So here it is. The real reason you dragged me over here."

"Wait, Neville told you?" Ron asked looking between Harry, Neville, and Graces, his eyes wide. "How did Neville know that?"

"I- I" Neville racked his brain for what to say, but before he found an answer Graham spoke up.

"Longbottom is the reason why Thomas Higgs won custody of the child," Montague explained evenly. "He ensured that his grandmother would side with Thomas Higgs should anyone challenge his legal right to custody over the child. I'm assuming," Montague continued slowly. "That because of his involvement either his gran or Graces herself told him about the portkeys."

"Neville," Hermione whispered. "Why would you do that? Give a child to another child?"

Neville opened his mouth to answer, but Graces didn't give him the chance. The blonde was soon on her feet towering over Harry.

"This is why you wanted me here," Graces glowered, her hands clenched in fists at her side. "You arse. You came over with talk of wanting to please your friend, like you were trying to do the noble thing and give me a chance, because Longbottom here struck a chord with you about my good nature or some nonsense like that. Not that I care," Graces said pointedly, her eyes marking everyone around the table. "I just thought that maybe—just maybe—that was it. But that wasn't it at all was it, Potter?" She said the name with such venom that Neville was surprised she didn't actually spit after saying it. "You just wanted information, wanted reason to be suspicious of my brother and I."

"Just ask, Potter. Use that bloody Gryffindor courage and bloody ask."

"Fine," Harry clipped, his green eyes blazing. "Where do you and your brother disappear to? I know you two disappear sometimes. _I know_."

"We disappear to the Higgs manor," Graces hissed, her body shaking.

"And what do you do there?"

"We take care of our godson," Graces stated firmly.

"I don't believe you."

"I really don't give a damn if you believe me, Potter."

"I know you two are up to something, Malfoy," Harry said, standing up to challenge the blonde. Graces turned to leave, but Harry yanked her back, ignoring Neville's order to let her go. " _I know_. You don't fool me for one moment. You and your brother are up to something and I am willing to bet my whole vault that your brother has already taken the mark." Graces was still trying to get away and she was yanking her arm back with such force Neville was sure she would injure her arm further. "And it doesn't end there does it, Malfoy? No, you and Draco don't do anything without one another. So you must be taking the ma—"

Neville wasn't sure when he did it. In fact he wasn't even sure when he got to the other side of the table. But what he did know was that his fist hurt and Harry was clutching his jaw in pain.


	75. Chapter 75

Neville had punched Harry. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. The one who had defied the Dark Lord and the only person who had survived the Killing Curse. His friend... He had punched him. He looked over at Graces whose hands were covering her mouth in surprise and only had a moment to really register what was happening before Harry tackled him, knocking the wind straight out of him.

So there he was, rolling around on the castle floor among the crumbles of breakfast and shouts of students, fighting his friend. He probably should stop, let Harry beat the tar out of him, but he couldn't. He couldn't and not just because he felt Harry deserved the punch for how he was treating Graces. He couldn't because he didn't want to look at himself in the mirror knowing he let someone beat him up. He wasn't like before. He had some pride now.

So for every hit Harry landed on him he tried to land a harder one back. Every unsavory name was returned by something just as derogatory and on and on it went. Ron at some point had started trying to break them up, but their will was proving stronger and damn if Ron Weasley was going to stop them.

"THAT IS ENOUGH! ENOUGH!" McGonagall bellowed, waving her wand and sending both him and Harry flying apart. Neville braced himself up and glared at the boy across from him. His heart was pounding and his whole body trembled with rage. Neville felt a lump grow in his throat and hated himself for being so close to tears.

He wanted to hit Harry, he wanted to hit him until his face was even more bloody than it already was. He wanted to fight him until his knuckles hurt too much touch, and he hated himself for feeling that way. Hated himself for wanting to cause pain to someone he knew to be good. Neville had only wished to cause this kind of pain to four other people before this: Bellatrix Lestrange, Barty Crouch Jr., Lucius Malfoy and Theodore Nott. It felt wrong that he wanted to hurt Harry.

"Both of you, follow me," McGonagall ordered, her lips tightly pursed together as she led them out of the Great Hall.

Neville clenched his jaw and did as he was told, careful to keep a distance between himself and Harry lest he be tempted to try and deck the raven-haired boy again. A white line edged about McGonagall's tightened lips as she lead them through the hall, too furious to say a word to them until they reached her office.

"Traitor."

Neville stopped in the corridor at Harry's word and the control it took to keep his hands to his side made him clench them into fists. Never had a word hit him so hard.

"You don't get to call me that," he declared. a hard edge to his voice. McGonagall and Harry were both down the halls a ways before he had spoke and both turned at his voice.

McGonagall parted her lips to order him to continue walking, but Neville continued on speaking.

"I was tortured for you," he whispered, the silence in the hall allowing his voice to carry. "I was willing to give up my life for you. My life!" Neville bellowed, his hands trembling with his rage. "My life before I even had the opportunity to live!"

McGonagall started to try and calm him, but Neville didn't hear a word she said.

"I believed you when no one else did. I've never lost faith in you. Not ever. Not for one second, Harry. I have been called a blood traitor all my life and been damn proud of it! I've been proud to stand by your side, not just because I believe it's right, but because you are my friend. But I will be damned before I let you call me a traitor!"

Harry had the decency to look down ashamed for a brief moment, before hardening his face.

"You ruined everything," Neville said bitterly, anger simmering his blood into a rolling boil.

"Sorry you didn't get a nice breakfast with your pathetic crush," Harry scoffed, holding onto the anger he had harbored earlier.

"You stupid, arrogant arse," Neville fired, advancing closer. "You don't get it do you? This was more than just breakfast. This wasn't about you or anyone getting to know her. I wanted her to see all of you. To see me. To feel accepted. To-to see she could have options." Neville damned himself for not being able to keep his voice from cracking or tears from coming.

"You've seen the way she holds that child. The way she coddles it every weekend. You've watched her take him in her arms and hug him close as Thomas tries to feed him. Do you honestly think she would want to bow down to the monster that slaughtered that child's family?"

"She planned the damn funeral, Harry! It was all over the bloody papers. She planned the damn funeral for the whole Higgs clan. She buried a family before she could apparate. She's sixteen and playing house with a real live baby. Do you honestly think that she wants to be a Death Eater?"

Neville wiped away his tears angrily."You took something today," he continued, his voice still strong despite the way his jaw shook. "You took away her possibilities. She will never feel she can be anything but a Death Eater, because you showed her that in your eyes she already is one. You're the Chosen One, Harry. If you think of her as a Death Eater, how is she supposed to think she can be anything else? You just announced to the world that she is your enemy." Neville paused and swallowed the ache that had come up in his throat. "She's stubborn... and she's so prideful. Now she will never ask for help... not ever. You announced her as your enemy and damn if she isn't going to be it now."

It was too much to bear. The disappointment, the hopelessness of it all. Neville never was one that was able to hold in his emotions. He cried. He despised that men were looked down on for such a basic emotion, that Harry and McGonagall both looked uncomfortable at his tears. If he was Hermione they wouldn't think twice, but since he was a man they were uncomfortable. He tried to hold it in and took deep breaths to calm himself down, but damn it the tears just wouldn't stop.

"Potter," Professor McGonagall said still looking at Neville. "I want you to go to my office. Wait there for me. I wish to speak to Mr. Longbottom here in private."

Harry frowned at the request, but didn't dare argue. He shot Neville an uncertain look and left.

Neville stared at his head of house and wondered when he had grown tall enough to meet her eyes.

"Neville," the older woman started, moving closer to him so that she could brace her hands on his shoulder. "Do you know something? Something about the Malfoys? Did Graces tell you something? I don't care how small. Did she confide something to you?"

Neville shook his head and looked away.

"Neville, don't lie to me," the professor ordered. "Do you know something?"

"No," Neville maintained strongly, bolting himself upright and still looking the older woman in her eyes.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes, weighing him. Neville kept his shoulders square and his face set, determined not to show even an ounce of emotion. He could feel his heart pounding and the adrenaline pulling into his system, but he begged the gods to not let it show on his face.

"Tell me what happened this morning."

"I punched Harry."

"Before that," McGonagall said flatly, her lips pursed together agitatedly. "Why was Graces sitting with you all to begin with."

Neville clenched his jaw, but one look at his head of house let him know that he wasn't going to get out of telling her. So he told her about the bet, Graces' injury, Harry deciding she should be obliged to fulfill the bet anyways. He went on to tell her about how he felt differently and told Graces to leave, but Harry wouldn't allow it. And then he told her about what Harry had said. And how he grabbed her arm and wouldn't let her leave. "That's when I hit him."

"Was he hurting her?"

"I don't know," Neville answered honestly. "If he was it certainly wasn't malicious. Harry's not like that."

"Why didn't you use your wand? Stun him? Why did you—"

"Because I wanted to hit him," Neville answered honestly. "I wanted to hit him, not just for

daring to touch her, but for what he said. He should have compassion for her. If all that he says is true -IF- then he should have compassion for her! He should show her mercy and empathy! Not humiliate her in front of the school! Not make accusations that could put her in danger!"

"Our side is supposed to be better," Neville growled. "We're supposed to be better. He Who Must Not Be Named is the one that lacks compassion, the one that ostracizes people because they are different, believe different. But we're not supposed to be that!"

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows formed together and created one long severe line at Neville's statement. He wasn't proud of what he had done. It wasn't pride that forced the confession out of him. It was anger. Anger and something else. Something he felt still coursing through his veins.

"He could have befriended her!" Neville kicked the wall beside him. "She was making an effort! She wasn't being mean or nasty at all. Which by the way is a huge accomplishment on her part. He just had to be civil!"

There was a long silence but Neville really didn't notice. His thoughts were sprawled out in his mind like marbles cascading across a floor. Everything was a mess and when he tried to get up and arrange them he slipped on one thought or another.

"Neville," McGonagall started tiredly, "go to my classroom. I need to go talk with Potter, while I do that gather yourself, because I plan on talking to you too." Neville nodded and moved to leave but stopped at McGonagall's hand on his shoulder. "I've lost a lot of students," the older woman began quietly. "Death has taken his share. And I've lost a considerable amount to You Know Who."

"Sometimes I don't know which is worse. And then I hate myself for thinking such a thing because death is permanent. I know you think that you're the only one who cares where Graces' future lies, but you're not. I care very much. If you want to blame people for not reaching out to her, for not reaching out to Draco, blame the adults, not Harry. I think the world places too much responsibility on his shoulders. He's just a boy, same as you. If anyone deserves your anger it's me."

Neville opened his mouth to protest, but the older woman silenced him. "I've seen her struggling. I've seen Draco struggling. Sometimes they both look so... so... tired," the older woman settled. "I've seen the change and done nothing. But I promise you Neville I will talk to Dumbledore and insist he take an interest in them. I vow I will be more approachable to Miss Malfoy. Even when she pushes me away. I won't write her off as Snape's ward. But you absolutely cannot hit other students. Do I make myself clear?"

Neville stared at his professor dumbstruck for a few moments before mechanically nodding his head.

"Good," McGonagall breathed tiredly. "Now go. And don't think for one moment you are not in trouble, Mr. Longbottom. You are in a great deal of trouble."

And he definitely was in trouble. An hour later McGonagall appeared in the classroom and she let him have it for punching Harry. Neville countless times felt his face go red from shame at the older woman's disappointment and the rest of the day was dedicated to putting blisters on his hands. He had to work with Filch helping with work around the castle with no magic. It wasn't the extent of his punishment either. He had a lot of days of detention coming up, as did Harry. McGonagall had decided that he and Harry were to be punished together, but they didn't exchange any words.

The day was spent in silence. Neville kept his eyes turned to the work at hand, refusing to look at Harry. His lip began hurting later in the day and he realized that he was pretty badly bruised. He wondered if McGonagall purposely didn't send them to the infirmary before Filch. She probably wanted them aware of their injuries which he didn't blame her for. Sometimes magic made you more foolish. What's a few punches when you can get it all cleared up before the real pain of your body healing sets in? He paused at that thought, remembering Graces' slow healing, before throwing himself back into the manual labor in front of him.

They had a few breaks for meals, sandwiches and pumpkin juice that McGonagall brought out to them, clearly unwilling to allow them a real break where they could get away from one another. He knew he should say something, but he was unwilling to be the first. He didn't even know if he was ready to talk to Harry. McGonagall was right that he shouldn't put so much weight on his shoulders, but he didn't have to forgive his cruelty to her. And in a way to him.

He told Harry how he felt about her. The raven-haired boy knew what he felt. So in a way what Harry had said about her in front of him, trying to expose her as wicked before his eyes, was cruel. Neville had jumped across some fiery line and there was no going back. For the very first time he had love in his arms, so he jumped into the blaze and didn't care if he got burned. If defending Graces meant that he was no longer going to have Harry as a friend so be it.

When the sun had long set they were finally dismissed. Both boys headed back to the tower. Neville slowed his pace so Harry could walk ahead, but halfway there Harry paused and turned towards him, his body vibrating from the anger he felt.

"I saw Draco over the summer. He was in Knockturn Alley. I followed him into Borgin and Burke's, and trust me, Neville, he was up to no good. Borgin was all shaken up after Draco showed him his arm. I couldn't see it from where I was, but I think it's a fair guess that he showed him the mark. I know he's a Death Eater and I know he's up to something." Neville put his hands in his pocket and waited for Harry to make his point. "She's already lost, Neville, both of them. I didn't ruin anything, because they are already too far gone."

Neville took a deep breathe and bobbed his head thoughtfully, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from going off the edge.

"When I was very young a girl went missing in some woods a few miles away. She was very young," Neville explained. "Maybe four or five. I remember everyone going out and searching for her. For days people looked for her. Search parties were organized to find her. Morning and night someone was out there looking for her. I remember hearing my gran and uncle talking about her after they put me to sleep one night."

"They were convinced she had died in the woods. It had been days. She had no food, no water and was so tiny. It was a practical conclusion. The next day when the search teams went looking for her they brought hounds... to sniff out a body," Neville explained. "She was a muggle girl. I don't think I've ever mentioned, I live near a muggle town. Anyways, it was a sad event. They did find her and she had passed. She had wandered so far into the woods," Neville whispered sadly. "They really didn't have much chance of finding her that first day. It seemed she had just kept wandering, so every step the volunteers took she had gained a step as well and when the volunteers switched out for the evenings she kept going, always a bit further ahead."

"After that my gran told me that if I was ever lost to sit down where I was and wait. Not to move an inch from where I was. But you know, Harry, even when they knew it was a lost cause to find her alive, they still went out there carrying food and water. They still went out there shouting her name until their voices were hoarse, knowing that she couldn't answer. And they did this because they weren't going to just give up on her."

He could tell Harry didn't understand. "I know Graces and Draco are lost. But what you're suggesting is we burn the woods around them."

"Because they're dangerous!"

"Maybe they are," Neville admitted. " But I'm shouting their names hoping they stop moving further into the forest and they will come to where they can hear me or at least stop and sit, wait to be found and helped. And you're... you're running after them. And everyone knows if you hear something running behind you in the dark woods you should run faster. So they get deeper and deeper. And in the end they are going to be too deep to hear me."

"You can't save them, Neville."

"Maybe not," Neville shrugged. "But I'm going to try. And if you get in the way of that again we're going to continue having problems."

"Where are you going?" Harry called, as Neville turned away from the tower.

"Away from you."

Harry made some exasperated noise of frustration, but Neville kept going. He decided to spend some time in the greenhouse, in case Harry looked at his map to see where he went. After a few hours he decided he was safe to head to his and Graces' room and he tiredly dragged his feet out into the cold.

He was so tired he almost didn't notice Nott emerging from the forbidden forest. He quickly hid behind Greenhouse 3 as the other boy walked past and made a note to ask some questions to Graces. He didn't know if she knew what Nott was up to, but judging by the way he was walking about so late at night it wasn't good. Not to mention the last time he saw Nott coming back to the castle he had blood all over his hands.

Neville suppressed a shiver and waited another fifteen minutes before hurrying along. He imagined Graces was going to want to know every detail of his day and that she would be pretty cranky. She had no patience. She hated waiting for anything. He had a feeling this was a Malfoy trait, bred into them by all the wealth, power and elitism the family acquired. He finally opened the door to their small apartment and paused in the threshold.

Soft firelight glowed through the living room as Neville entered. The logs in the hearth had turned to ash and Graces sat perched on the sofa, a warm blanket wrapped around her as she clutched a lace handkerchief in her fist. Graces turned away as Neville drifted towards her, trying violently to pull herself together, before she tilted her head towards his.

"W-we don't go to Higgs manor."

Her face was splotched red, her hair a mess and in knots from running her nervous fingers through it and Neville had to release a slow breath as he watched her wipe her nose and stifle a sob.

"Everything P-Potter said was true and everything I s-said w-was—" She paused and looked away guiltily before forcing the words out. "—was a l-lie."

"I know," Neville said gently, cupping her moist face in his palms and turning her tearful eyes back to him. "I knew that."

Neville watched as her eyes changed color, a kaleidoscope of emotions. Doubt, shame, fear, relief. All there in her gray silver eyes.

"Graces, you've told me enough and I've seen enough to know that it was a lie," Neville reminded, his voice softer and kinder than it had ever been before. "And I know Draco bears the mark. You told me. Remember?"

"I thought maybe you forgot," she whispered lamely, her eyes avoiding his. "Why did you hit him then?" she asked quietly, giving away all her self-damning thoughts. "If you knew I was lying. If you knew what we were. Why did you hit him? Why, Neville? Why would you do that? You-you lost a friend today. You possibly lost all of your friends," Graces rasped, wiping away her tears. "Why would you do that if you knew I was lying? Why would you do that if you knew what path Draco and I were on?"

"You don't know the answer to that by now?" Neville asked taking her hands and kneeling down to look up at her tortured eyes. She was so beautiful, even with her splotched face and red nose. She was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen.

"Graces," he breathed, his heart in his throat from a mixture of nerves and bliss. "I'm in love with you."

"You can't," she whispered, breaking free of his hands and moving back in her seat, her whole face drained of color. "You're not. You're-you're just confused. It's all the excitement from today."

The blonde quickly stood from the couch and moved around so that the sofa was now between them. Neville stayed on bended knee watching her as she paced back and forth, her fingers nervously playing with the necklace he had given her so long ago.

"I don't expect you to say it back," Neville frowned, standing up but not moving towards her. "Graces, I didn't tell you because I expected you to say it back. I know you don't feel the same and that's fine. There's no pressure. I just wanted you to know."

"Neville, you're just confused. Please, I think it's best we don't talk about this. I think it's best we pretend this never happened."

Neville frowned and tried to make sense of what was happening.

"Do you want that because me loving you frightens you, or because you sincerely believe I don't truly love you?" he asked slowly, unsure of which one he would prefer.

"You don't love me," Graces snapped, whirling around and glaring at him. "You don't."

"I do," Neville said, moving around the couch and reaching for her hand.

"Don't touch me!" Graces said hysterically, jumping back as though she were frightened of him.

Neville lowered his hand dejectedly and tried to figure out what exactly was happening. Graces' face softened, but she didn't move forward. She just looked at him, her eyes tracing his face as though he were a book written in a language she couldn't comprehend.

"Can we talk about this?" Neville asked, near tears.

"No," Graces said, gently turning away.

"I- I really don't need you to love me back," Neville repeated tightly. "I really don't. I-I don't ever expect you to feel the same way as me. And-and this is truly enough for me. I don't need anymore than you're giving. I just... I just wanted you to know. Know that I love you. That I would do anything and everything for you. That—"

"Would you kill Albus Dumbledore for me?" Graces asked, coldly.

"What?"

"Would you kill Albus Dumbledore for me," Graces repeated, slowly turning to face him. Neville's face must have shown his horror at the question, because Graces just nodded knowingly. "Would you kill Harry Potter for me?"

"No," Neville cast, his disgust with the question evident.

"Then I guess you wouldn't do anything for me," Graces concluded hardly. "Don't look so terrified, Neville. I didn't ask you with the expectations you would. Nor do I want you to. I'm just making a point."

"What point is that?"

"That you don't love me," Graces breathed, moving close to him and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. "And that's fine. It truly is." Neville stiffened as she gently brushed her lips against his. "I'm not at all hurt that you don't, Neville."

Neville was so confused. He really didn't understand how Graces was reaching such an outrageous conclusion.

"You think that because-because I won't murder two innocent people for you that it means I don't love you?"

"Love means everything." She stated it with such certainty, such sheer knowledge that Neville knew she believed that.

"I would die for you," Neville whispered, taking her hands and not allowing her to move away from him. "I would give up my life for you."

"You would do that for a stranger," Graces pointed out, clearly unimpressed with his declaration. "You're a Gryffindor through and through. Righteous and selfless. You don't love everyone in the world, Neville. But you would die for someone without even knowing their name."

Neville stared at her, at a loss as to what he could possibly say.

"I would do anything for Draco, for Thomas and Octavian," Graces continued, sliding her hands out of his as he stared there dumbfounded. "It doesn't matter what. I love them and because I love them there is no bounds to what I would do. If they are not in this world I don't care about this world. And if I have to burn the world around us to ash to ensure their safety I will do it, no questions asked. Just as Draco would do that for me."

"I see," Neville said bitterly. "So what you're really saying is my love isn't good enough."

It was now Graces' turn to be speechless.

"So because I won't hurt innocent people. Because I won't alter my morals, I don't love you. At least not enough for you to consider it." Graces looked away and Neville was glad for the moment, because he was already choking on his own tears. It hurt that she didn't love him back. He was surprised by exactly how much that hurt. He felt hollow and the hurt was so deep he knew he could drown in it. But the hurt that came from her not loving him was miniscule compared to the hurt that came with her believing his love was so below her standards that it wasn't even real.

"I—that's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying?" Neville demanded.

"I-I don't know," Graces whispered, her voice tight from the tears she was holding back.

"Are you really this twisted? This warped?" Neville asked, taken aback. "Do you honestly have faith in the notion that love is so... so ... I don't know what to call that. I really don't. It's wrong. Love can't be that way. I refuse to believe it's that way."

"Then what is it?" Graces demanded. "If I'm so misguided, guide me! What is it then?"

Neville stared at her. She was so angry. He knew that, he did. Somewhere in the corners of his mind, he remembered this about her. That she was so angry... and hurt. No, maybe she wasn't angry, she was hurt and the only way Graces knew how to deal with hurt was with anger.

"I don't know," he whispered honestly. "I wish I had all the words to describe what it is you make me feel, but all I can think to describe it is the way you move against me while you sleep and how I feel knowing you are there."

Her eyes met his and Neville for a brief moment thought he saw recognition before she tore them away and stated that what he said didn't make sense.

"And what you're saying does?" Neville challenged.

Her jaw clenched tightly. "I'm so sorry, but this is how I feel. This is what I believe."

Graces wiped away a few tears that had managed to escape her, before straightening her shoulders and walking to the door. Neville didn't stop her as she brushed past him and he didn't turn when he heard the door click open, nor did he look back as it shut. He hurt like he had never hurt before and part of him was glad she left. He didn't know if he could last another minute with her in the room. He took a deep breath and tried not to cry. She didn't love him. There was a hole swallowing him up inside. She did not love him. And she didn't believe he loved her.

A knife to the chest would have been less painful.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

She hadn't left. She meant to. She wanted to, but she found herself unable to move from the door. She stayed leaning against the painting that granted her entrance for over an hour, knowing Neville was just on the other side and hating herself for not being in there with him.

She didn't believe he loved her. It truly was impossible. If he had then he would do anything for her, just as Draco was willing to do anything. She knew that she didn't need to worry that he loved her, but he thought he did. He thought he did and declared his love only to hear back that she didn't share his affections.

She felt her blood run cold. Was she truly that cruel? That much of a coward?

She was terrified of everything that she was feeling and even more terrified of what Neville was feeling. He decked Harry Potter for her today in front of the whole school. Not only did he hit him, but he fought him. Fought him for her. Draco had been delighted in the display, but she shared none of that delight. It broke her heart to see him bleed for her. Tore it to shreds to see him sacrifice a friendship for her.

She stared up at the ceiling through her tears and realized she should walk away, walk away and never speak to him again. He would heal. He didn't really love her and if she erased herself from his life he would realize that. And in time he would move on. Her legs buckled as if they knew her plan and she buried her head in her knees as she succumbed to her own weakness.

She wasn't leaving. She couldn't. She forced herself to her feet and wiped away her tears before entering the room again. All the lights were out and the fire had even died in the living room. She edged her way to the bedroom to discover Neville asleep. Graces bit her lip and quietly dressed down in the dark. She didn't want to wake him. As cowardly as it was she wasn't quite ready to face him. She didn't even know what she would say. She opened the drawer to take one of her nightgowns and closed it deciding on an old shirt of Neville's instead. It was laced with grass and flower stains, but it was her favorite. His scent lingered on it no matter how many times it was cleaned and it was, in so many ways, a painting of Neville. Simple, soft, warm and collaged with color.

She stood looking at it on her for a few moments before tip toeing to the bed and sneaking in the covers.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, her heart skipping a few beats. "I couldn't leave." She felt Neville shift in the bed and didn't dare look over to meet his eyes, though she knew he was staring at her. "I never left," she whispered, more to herself than him. "I just stood outside. I couldn't leave."

"I should have though," she said, her voice cracking from emotion. "I shouldn't be here."

"Then why did you stay?"

Graces damned herself. "Because-because I think you're in pain." She looked up at the ceiling and tried to will the tears to sink back into her eyes. She couldn't look at Neville. She couldn't look and see him looking at her with his heart in his eyes. Seeing that would make her hurt unbearably. "And I couldn't bear the thought of leaving you here in pain."

She knew her tears were pitiful, but she couldn't stop them from coming. She hated herself. Neville pulled her close and kissed away each tear drop, whispering again and again for her to not cry. That any pain he was in had disappeared the moment she was beside him and that he loved her.

"You can't love me," she pleaded, pulling away to actually look at him. "It's impossible, Neville. It is. Can't you see that? What you feel for me, though it may be many wonderful things couldn't possibly be love."

"I do love you," Neville implored.

"You can't!"

"Why?"

"Because love is forever," Graces shouted. "Forever. Eternal. If you love someone it will last. It will withstand anything and everything. It's final. I pray to the gods you don't love me, Neville. Because that would be so tragic. So heartbreaking. Because we don't have forever. We have such a small window open to us. I don't want you to love me, because if you do, if you truly do it will never leave. You will love me when fate separates us forever."

"You deserve love," Graces continued tightly. "I want that for you. I do. I want you to have someone that loves you endlessly, Neville. I want you to have someone that worships the ground you walk on and would do anything for you. Anything and everything. Someone who would let the world burn for you."

"You've spent too much of your life loving people who are incapable of loving you back. Please, please don't love me and make me one of those people. Because if I was I would hate myself. It would be my greatest sin. What kind of life would that be for you, Neville? We have no future."

She couldn't stop the tears that flooded out of her. She hated herself, but she also hated the woman in Neville's future, the one he would truly love, the one that would love him. She wanted to be that woman. She wanted to love him. She wished to the gods she could. She remembered the first time she wished she could love him, when he first brought her to this room and took her to the bath to warm her up. For weeks she had pushed hopeless thoughts of what could be in a time of no war from her mind, but earlier when Neville had first proclaimed his love, she couldn't ignore the way her heart soared for that one moment before reality shot it down.

"You can't possibly love me, Neville. Because that thought alone would break you. It would beat you down every day if you truly loved me. If you loved me you wouldn't be able to live without me. You would do anything to be with me... anything it took," she finished tightly.

She felt Neville's hands on her face and she moved closer to him as he pulled her close. She wanted to hold him and she wanted him to hold her. It wasn't love, she knew that, but it was something.

"Neville, I do care about you. I care about you greatly."

Neville kissed her forehead tenderly. "I know."

"And I know you care for me. I just don't believe that what you feel is love. As wonderful and strong as it may be I don't think that—"

"I think it's best we just not talk anymore tonight," Neville said gently. "I'm not going to agree with you. I won't be taking my declaration back. I love you and that's just how I feel. I'm willing to not say that to you again, I understand it makes you uncomfortable and that you don't believe me, but in time I hope you will see it as the truth."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you don't."

Graces was silent as she pondered what Neville was saying.

"Neville?" Neville made a drowsy hum of a reply. "Are you sad?" Graces whispered, unable to escape her guilt.

"Not anymore."

"Really?"

"Really."

Graces paused. "What are you right now then?"

"Tired, but content."

"Why are you so tired?"

Neville chuckled. "Hitting the Chosen One comes with a price. Manual labor."

"Oh," Graces deflated.

"Harry had to do it too, though. McGonagall is fair." When Graces opened her mouth to speak again Neville continued. "Everything is fine, Graces. We're fine. I'm not sad, just let me hold to my heart's content and sleep. It's been a really long day."

Graces swallowed her questions and moved closer to Neville as he folded her in closer to his chest. She felt better instantly and closed her eyes as she enjoyed the heat radiating off him. She nuzzled under his neck and breathed in his scent. He must have been outside a lot today. She could smell the snow, the dirt, leaves of all kinds and the hours of sweat from it all.

Neville groaned. "I didn't know you were going to come back; I would have showered. I'll shower," Neville proclaimed lamely, tiredly moving to get up and wash away the day.

Graces placed the palm of her hand down on his bare chest stilling him, before leaning in to kiss him. She kissed him until his breath turned hot and demanding and she could feel his skin burning beneath her fingertips. He moved on top of her, discarding what little he was already wearing and throwing off what she was. She wrapped her long supple legs around him and kissed him soundly.

She wanted him to hold her. Hold her and make love to her just as he was doing so now. She cared for him. She did. She truly did. She wanted to take away his pain make him feel as good as he made her feel. She wanted to lift him from this terrible day and take him back into their safe world. So she kissed him and gave herself over to him and let him feel what she did feel for him. It wasn't love, but she prayed it satisfied him enough, that it made him feel wanted and cherished.

It wasn't nearly close to what he deserved, because he deserved love and devotion, but she prayed it was something for him. Prayed it was something, because it was all she could give. After, as she laid down with him, she wondered if he knew that this was the most she had ever given romantically. She hoped he did know, so that when they ended he could look back and see that this was special for her. She knew he would meet someone who he truly did love and that that girl would make all the feelings he thought he had for her fall away to the wind, but she wanted him to remember her fondly... affectionately.


	76. Chapter 76

Today was going to be a very long day. He knew that not only by the feeling in his gut but by the way Graces seemed to fret over him this morning before he left, exceptionally early in case Harry checked his map, to spend time in the greenhouse. She had followed him around the little apartment like a lost puppy: biting her lip, playing with a string of hair, fiddling with this vase of flowers and that. And gods, he had no idea she kept that much chocolate stashed away. He doubted she was going to even eat breakfast after all those chocolate frogs.

Still, if he was honest he very much appreciated her worries. It was odd. He knew she didn't love him, but he felt loved. It was like a small match had been lit inside his heart and it warmed his chest and he carried it with him through the day. He felt protected in a way. When he punched Harry and knew in that instant he may have lost all his friends, he had this blinding comfort that he would have Graces. That it didn't matter because she was going to be there. When she had walked out last night the match had flickered, but when she came back and confessed she had never left it blazed that much brighter.

He thought about the way she looked at his bruised and cut up face this morning. Nobody ever looked at him that way. He thought of the beginning of the year when Draco had continuously beat the pulp out of him and Hermione had helped him heal a few times. All those times Hermione had looked at him with a mix of pity and strong affection, he knew that she loved him on a platonic level, but it was nothing like the way Graces looked at him.

He touched the cut on his lip absently. She had wanted to heal him so badly, but he wouldn't let her. He had too much respect for Professor McGonagall to find a loophole to her rule of not being allowed to go to the infirmary. She wanted Harry and Draco to heal the muggle way and he was not about to defy her. The only thing he had allowed the blonde to do was somewhat treat his cut lip.

He had reopened the wound while brushing his teeth. A sharp hiss of pain and a slight trickle of blood had escaped him. He had just began dabbing the cut with a wash cloth and some water, knowing Graces eyes were on him, when she quietly took the washcloth away. Her hand lingering on his arm as she perched herself onto the bathroom counter, so she was nearly eye level with him.

She had been so gentle. Taking his place dabbing the wound, rummaging through her Quidditch emergency bag and finding some disinfectant salve she had. The salve stung, but he didn't notice much. He was too preoccupied watching her lips as after each small dab she blew softly on his wound before giving the area the most tender kiss.

When each cut had been tended to she looked up at him with such affection and remorse that he was left breathless, hovering in a state where the rest of the world didn't exist, just the two of them. He loved her and he didn't understand how she could look at him like that and make him feel the way he did, when she didn't feel the same. He didn't feel like this was in his head. Neville sighed and wished he had a pensieve to clear his head. It was currently a bloody mess. He didn't know what to think or what to feel. One minute he felt fine and loved despite her words and the next his heart felt like it was falling to his feet, because she didn't love him.

He turned the corner to enter the great hall when a familiar polished voice stopped him.

"Good morning," Draco greeted, leaving Neville to marvel that something pleasant towards him could actually come out of that mouth.

Draco raised an eyebrow at his silence which Neville hurriedly amended with an apology and an awkward good morning back. This seemed to satisfy Draco and the blonde stood there beside him in his proper suit and good breeding, waiting for people to pass them by. It was a futile wait. The whole student body seemed to slow their pace at the site of Draco and him standing together. Neville did his best not to look as uncomfortable as he felt, but judging by Draco's amusement he was doing a very poor job.

When the majority of students had entered the Great Hall, and only a few laggards here and there were passing, Draco became inclined to speak.

"I enjoyed your little display yesterday," the blond smirked, his eyes gleaming maliciously as they trailed over to Harry, who unlike the rest of the school, had lingered in the hall watching them. "I'm not going to lie, Longbottom, I haven't had a laugh like that in—gods, I don't know—months? It must be months."

"Glad I amused you," Neville muttered dryly, already exasperated with Draco's antics. He wanted to walk away, probably should have, but something glued him to where he stood. Despite his discomfort, his embarrassment, his worry over what Harry and the others were thinking, he could not shake the fact that this was Graces' brother. Her brother who she loved more than anything or anyone in the world. And that fact alone earned Draco his attention. He couldn't walk away from Draco. It would be like walking away from Gracces.

Draco gave a small chuckle and looked down to gather himself before straightening back up. "Well, I think you amused the whole Slytherin house, but that's beside the point."

Neville hummed a reply and waited for Draco to leave, insult him or both, but the blonde just continued to stand there casually as though he and Neville often talked in the halls. It didn't escape Neville's notice that Harry was growing increasingly more agitated with each passing moment and that with Harry's reaction Draco seemed to be growing even more elated.

"Malfoy, is there something you wanted?" Neville asked, his heart pounding in his throat. It shouldn't matter to him what Harry thought, but it did. Gods above it did. He just prayed that Draco's game wouldn't entice Harry to come over. The last thing he needed was another fight to break out. Lord help him if Harry tried to hurt Draco. He knew whose side he would have to take in that battle. Graces would never forgive him if he allowed her brother to be hurt, even if it was her brother being the pompous arse.

Draco's eyes tore away from Harry's and he made some noise of amusement at Neville's obvious anxiety, before placing a confident hand on his shoulder and directing him away from Harry's eyes and the ever whispering school.

"You worry too much of what others think," Draco pointed out carelessly, as though Neville's fret was silly and absurd. "Not everyone is going to like you, Longbottom."

"I know that," Neville flushed.

"Do you?" Draco challenged. "If that is true then why do you bother walking on eggshells constantly? I mean, if you know that not everyone is going to like you, why do you worry so much about how people see you?"

"I don't—"

"You do," Draco interrupted, his tone confident.

"Are you saying you don't care what people think?"

"No," Draco relented slowly, calculatedly. "I do care. I just put my effort into manipulating how I am perceived and I choose which people I want to favor me. I don't try to please the masses."

"Nor do I," Neville growled, wondering if he needed to remind Draco of his part in the Ministry.

"Not anymore, I suppose," Draco relented, his silver eyes holding onto Neville's brown. "A lot has changed for you since last year."

Neville didn't feel the need to say any more and allowed Draco to continue leading him to a secluded area. The farther away they were from the noise of the hall the more uncomfortable Neville became. He had no idea what would make Draco want to talk to him alone. Or what would make him behave almost friendly towards him. Neville was beginning to feel the weight of the blond's arm around his shoulder.

When they finally did stop he was such a turmoil of emotions he didn't wait for Draco to get a word out before he demanded to know what was going on.

Draco removed his arm and stared at him for a while. Neville watched as his face slid from the pompous, highbrow facade to something more genuine. More real. More like Graces. "Graham told me about yesterday's events. And of the conversations leading up," Draco said slowly, giving Neville a hesitant, pointed look that Neville was sorry to not understand. Draco sighed running a free hand through his hair.

"I was never made aware that you were the reason we were given custody of Octavian," he confessed quietly, his body going stiff as he crossed his arms about his chest.

"Oh," Neville mouthed silently, beginning to feel exceptionally uncomfortable. "That."

"Yes, that," Draco repeated quietly, his face taking on a serious expression as he licked his lower lip nervously. "I wish I could say you didn't have to do that. But I can't... I don't think we would have gained custody without you."

There was a long silence in which Neville didn't know what to say, but he had a feeling saying nothing was best. This was probably the closest he was ever going to get to Draco thanking him and he wasn't about to spoil this moment and say something stupid that would just agitate the boy in front of him. He had a feeling that this took a great amount of humility on Draco's part and the best thing for him to do was stand there and pretend he didn't exist.

"I take it no one really likes you right now," Draco continued, looking down at the stone floor as though there were something in the marble that needed his attention.

"Probably not. I don't really know. Didn't see anyone yesterday."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't expect a warm gathering. Isn't Potter the poster boy for your house?" Neville shrugged and suppressed a sigh. "Yeah... it's not going to be a good day for you."

"I suppose not."

"Would you like to sit with me?"

Neville jerked at the question and stared at Draco in total and utter bewilderment.

"You _are_ a pureblood, Longbottom," the blonde reminded, a hint of annoyance lacing his words. "It's not exactly an insane thought that you and I could be friends. You've aided me countless times this year... Not to mention, you've never once taken advantage of my or my sister's situation," Draco whispered, more to himself.

Neville felt a bit awkward. Draco clearly had no idea about his relationship with his sister.

"It's just _my_ friendship though," Draco emphasized. "Graces is not in this and I don't want you to get your hopes up or something," he added awkwardly, apparently trying to spare his feelings, but unable to do away with his Malfoyness. "So don't choose this for her. It wouldn't make a difference to her anyways. But if you want a friend, Longbottom, you can have one."

Draco thrust his hand out towards him and Neville staggered back, unable to believe what was before him. Draco flinched slightly at Neville's reaction, but recovered well. Keeping his hand out and forcing his back to remain straight. He was nervous. It was written all over his face despite the exterior he was trying violently to put forth.

Neville wasn't ignorant of pureblood ways, but being around Graces made him understand the subtlety much more. Draco's friendship, much like Graces' friendship with Thomas, was a commodity. It wasn't going to be like the friendship he had with Ron, Harry and Luna. It was friendship only in name. Draco wasn't offering to talk about his day or play games of Exploding Snap. He was offering him use of their family name and shelter from the inevitable loneliness that came with making an enemy like Harry Potter.

He felt shaken right down to his core as he stared at that hand.

"It's more than just handshake, isn't it?" Neville whispered quietly. "Just like my sitting on your side of the Great Hall is more that just breakfast."

"What do you think, Longbottom?" Draco questioned gently, his expression almost close to pity. "I can't be friends with a blood traitor."

"Yeah... I figured as much," Neville breathed, his heart dropping down to his feet. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Draco's hand as he slowly slid his own hands in his pockets. He looked up at Draco after with a heavier heart than before.

He was so much like her. Same mouth, same eyes, same expressions. There was no hint of surprise from the other boy as Neville declined the offer. It seemed as though he already expected it. And Neville was even more surprised to see that Draco seemed to understand his choice.

"You're welcome to sit with me," Neville offered hopefully, watching as Draco took his own hand away.

"We saw yesterday how that arrangement would go."

"You let me worry about that."

Draco's eyebrow peaked slightly and his smile returned all teeth and blinding brightness.

"You going to punch the golden boy for me too?" Draco smirked, his eyes glittering with amusement.

"If I need to."

"It's almost worth it just for that."

"Come then."

For a fraction of a second it seemed Draco may incline his head and follow him, but the moment fleeted and his gray eyes turned dark. "No," Draco sighed. "I can't... I think we both know I'm chained."

"No. No you're not. Not yet. Malfoy, I—"

"You're a good bloke, Longbottom," Draco interrupted, his words cool and clipped. " A really good bloke," he repeated, a note of astonishment creeping in. "I-I'm even sorry for how I've treated you before. But I need you to stay away from me and my sister. We can't be seen having a relationship with you. You're a blood traitor and that isn't looked well upon on our side. Graces told Graham she can't be cruel to you, not after all you did for us. She's soft. Delicate. She can play detached and cruel, but it's not actually in her. People can't find that out, Longbottom. If they did they would manipulate her. I've chosen my path. And you've chosen yours. I don't believe we have anything more to say to one another. I think it's best we continue on our own way. Our own _separate_ ways."

Neville opened his mouth to protest but the blonde ignored him, brushing past him to join his friends in the Great Hall. Neville stood in the hall even more confused about his day, a feeling of guilt overtaking him. In an odd way he felt as though he had just rejected Graces. He was suddenly not very hungry, but he continued on into the Great Hall. It wouldn't do to just avoid the inevitable anyways.

He entered the Great Hall and did his best to appear calm and aloof like it didn't matter to him what people thought, though it did very much. He hated the way people were staring at him, whispering as he passed by. He took each step with the awareness that he didn't know what he was going to do once he reached his table.

"May I join you?"

Abruptly, he jerked to a stop to stare at the girl in front of him. He recognized her only as a face he had seen in between classes. Neville didn't even think they shared any friends.

"My name's Wamil," the Hufflepuff offered, giving him a small smile and holding out her hand pleasantly. "I'm in the year before yours."

"Neville." He took her hand awkwardly and ignored the pang of guilt as the act reminded him of Draco.

Wamil gave him a bemused smile at his introduction, and Neville blushed. Of course she knew who he was. He's the bloke that punched Harry Potter just yesterday. The whole bloody school knew who he was.

"Neville," Wamil whispered, leaning in close. "You can let go of my hand now."

Neville flushed and dropped her hand as though his skin was burning from the contact. He muttered a string of apologies that Wamil just smiled at before falling silent and wishing he could just drop into a hole in the floor.

"Is that a yes?" Wamil asks politely, reminding Neville of her original question.

Neville hesitated, unsure of whether he should bring more guests to the table, but in the end he nodded and gestured her forward to the Gryffindor table. Wamil smiled and lead the way, picking the spot at the very edge of the long table and allowing for them to have a great amount of privacy.

Neville was thankful for it. He imagined that he wouldn't be so well received sitting with his housemates. He could feel their eyes upon him, but he forced his eyes to remain elsewhere. Wamil's eyes in contrast seemed to be taking in every detail of what was around her. Neville watched as she turned her head this way and that, even looking up at the ceiling a few times, clearly adjusting to the strangeness of sitting at a different table after so many years. He wondered if it made the whole hall seem different.

"It does," Wamil nodded simply, staring once again at the enchanted ceiling above her.

"I didn't realize I said that out loud," Neville confessed, pouring the girl in front of him a cup of tea.

Wamil paused her investigating and smiled softly at him, thanking him for the tea and lifting its contents to her lips before sighing contently after her first sip.

She was striking, beauty that Neville was sure turned heads everywhere she went. Though her robes didn't fit, her face was left untouched by makeup and her hair was left to just fall around her it was obvious she was stunning. And that was without mentioning her eyes.

Neville smiled quietly to himself at the realization. He didn't know why, but it made him happy that such a pretty girl like Wamil had so little effect on him. He sipped his tea and thought about Graces. He wondered if she went back to bed after he left this morning. He liked to imagine she did. He imagined her tucked away in the covers, an aura of beauty surrounding her as she slept soundly in their bed wrapped in purple sheets that still smelled heavily of him.

"What are you thinking about?" Wamil asked curiously.

"Oh, uh, no one."

"I said what, not who," Wamil pointed out, lowering her tea and giving Neville a satisfied smile. Neville flushed and grabbed at something to say.

"So, uh, you're a Hufflepuff."

"And you're a Gryffindor," the girl countered, clearly enjoying Neville's awkwardness.

Neville chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded, busying himself with filling his plate and giving up on conversation. Why this girl wanted to sit with him, he had no clue, but he was suddenly too embarrassed to ask. He had far too much going on in his head at the moment and he felt like any attempt at making conversation was just going to continue to go badly.

"Does your cheek hurt?" Wamil inquired, her eyes fixated on the mean bruise right under his left eye.

"Not really," Neville shrugged. "I think it looks much worse than it actually is."

"Potter looks pretty beat up as well. You know you gave him a black eye."

Neville swallowed uncomfortably and took a bite of his food without tasting it.

"Not that it wasn't deserved," Wamil continued. "A lot of people seemed to believe Potter was out of line. Everyone was watching. Malfoy was being exceptionally pleasant, she didn't do anything that warranted such rude treatment."

Wamil raised her voice as she continued, ensuring the rest of the table could hear her. "In fact! I was appalled that you were the only one to step up yesterday! I thought Gryffindors were all noble and chivalrous! I can't believe a whole table allowed for a girl, a guest, to be manhandled in such a way!"

Neville looked over to see Harry flush and purse his lips. It was obvious he had heard Wamil, but he offered no words in his defense, which Neville was grateful for. He didn't really want another fight to breakout because of his breakfast guest.

"Is that why you're sitting with me?" Neville asked, once Wamil seemed to be done staring daggers in Harry's direction.

"I just thought you could use some company," the other girl smiled, going back to her breakfast.

Neville let out a small chuckle and thanked her, to which the raven-haired girl just waved her hand dismissively. Wamil, though she smiled and had no problem carrying a conversation, didn't appear to need to say much. She seemed content sitting and merely being. It was odd that someone so quiet could radiate so much warmth with few words. It was like she could have whole conversations just in silence.

"So," Wamil began cautiously. "The rumor is that you have it pretty bad for Malfoy."

Neville, deciding that he didn't know this girl well enough to be discussing his love life, took a bite of his eggs and stared down at his plate.

"It must really hurt for you to see her with Graham," Wamil said softly, her own voice taking on a kind of sadness.

Neville scowled at her words before looking up at her in confusion.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Surely you've heard," Wamil frowned. "She and Graham Montague are an item."

"No they're not," Neville scoffed, shaking his head at the craziness of the idea.

"I can assure you they are. I heard it from a very reliable source."

_I bet I have a more reliable source._

"Who?" Neville asked, unable to hide his own skepticism and a hint of accusation.

"Well.. from Graham himself," Wamil confessed, her voice hushed. Neville stopped toying with his food and looked back up. "Apparently he's-he's planning on marrying her," she continued, her voice raw with emotion. "And it does make sense doesn't it? I mean he is spending so much time with Draco. That's a part of Pureblood courting, three months separation during which time the boy is to spend all his time with the family of the girl."

Neville lost himself sitting there at that table, lost himself in a maze of memories and thoughts. He remembered walking in on Graham proposing. He remembered Graces in the barn telling him she wasn't going to marry him. He remembered signing her living will. Memory after memory assaulted him. The way she touched him that morning. Her asking him to come to bed with her. Her asking him to make love to her. Could she do this? He knew she could lie, that she could manipulate, that she had the most bizarre ideas of what was right and wrong. But could she do this? Could she hold him in her arms and let him make love to her every night while being involved with another? When he finally emerged from his own head he stared at the girl across from him.

"That's not true."

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"What do you think they're talking about?" Graham murmured.

Graces raised an eyebrow at his question. Judging by the way Graham was looking over at Neville and Wamil she highly doubted that he meant to say the question aloud, but she decided to answer it all the same. Not because she wanted the conversation, but because she was beginning to wonder if Graham realized he was staring.

"Who knows," she shrugged, taking some marmalade and smearing it on her toast.

"It seems intimate though, doesn't it?"

Graces paused and looked up. It did.

"I think you're reading into things."

"She's patting his arm."

"So she is."

"He just put his hand over hers."

Graces looked up and made a disinterested noise at the sight, doing a much better job of ignoring her feelings than Graham was of ignoring his.

"Graham," she drawled, making sure to keep her voice low so no one could hear. "Unless you want the world to realize you're in love with a half-breed I would advise you to stop staring."

Graham immediately looked down at the table. Jaw tense he moved about the food on his plate, clearly no longer interested in meals. Graces wanted to take his hand, lean in and whisper that it was all going to be okay, but she couldn't.

She felt much like Graham at the moment. She forced herself to eat, playing Neville's words in her head with every bite. I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you. It was her comfort, her rock, the only thing keeping her from going over to that table and screaming. She may not believe that Neville truly loved her, but she believed that he thought he did. And if he truly believed that then it didn't matter that a veela hybrid was interested in him. He would remain faithful, even if she didn't deserve his devotion.

The end was near. She could feel it in her bones. This wasn't going to be enough for him. Neville had ideas of love in his head, and love lead to ideas of a future which he could not have with her. She wondered how much longer he could take the disappointment that came with her. She was never going to be able to make him whole. She wondered if he even realized how broken he was. He was so focused on being all that she needed that he neglected his own needs.

"You're-you're partners with Longbottom in Herbology, correct?"

Graham's voice was as soft as a whisper, but it spoke volumes.

"I am."

"Will you—"

"Graham," Graces begged.

"Please, Graces. Please. I-I have to know. I just have to."

"If it's not Longbottom now, it will be someone else another day. Why does it matter?"

"It just does."

"Graham, people could hear you right now. You're behaving—"

"Then say you will ask."

"You know I think I like you better stoic and cold," Graces muttered, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as Graham continued to stared down at her. "Fine," she hissed. "I'll ask."

Graham muttered a thanks that Graces politely ignored.

"Did Draco seem off to you this morning? He didn't stay long for breakfast."

Graham shrugged and gave no opinion, clearly still too invested in what was happening at the Gryffindor table despite the fact he couldn't look over and watch anymore.

"I just found it strange," Graces mused.

"He's just putting on a show for Nott," Graham murmured. "Now that he's back from break Draco has to look busy."

"Yeah, but you're—"

"I am not the one in charge of Draco. You know that."

Graces fell silent at his words and suddenly lost her appetite herself. There was a pregnant silence that folded over herself and Graham after that and eventually the older boy just curtly bid her goodbye and left, unable to take another moment. Graces idly wondered if it was Wamil or herself that eventually forced him out of his chair.

"Miss Malfoy." Graces looked up at Snape's velvet voice and did her best not to draw attention to her fingers tightening on her fork. "Tonight, after dinner."

For a moment she felt as though the world stilled and Graces almost didn't process what was happening as Snape turned to leave. But when she did. When she realized that he—after all that happened, after holding a dagger to her throat—still thought she wanted his help.

"You think you can hold a dagger to my throat one day and help me the next?" She asked, her silver eyes glowing with unspoken wrath.

"You will never touch me again," she whispered, her pale skin turning red with fury. "Not ever."

"Don't be foolish." Snape's tone and look had grown darker, but Graces stood her ground.

"I'm not being foolish," she said stubbornly. "You're not touching me."

Snape was silent for a while, his dark coal eyes bearing down into hers. She could feel her throat tightening and did her best not to let the well of emotions she was feeling betray her. She was so small compared to this man. So small and she hated him so much. She died knowing that her hate did little, she wanted it to do more. She wanted him to pay.

"Fine," he murmured venomously. "Be a martyr. It's not I who has to look down and see mutilated flesh every morning and night."

The words cut her somewhere to deep to acknowledge, but she pretended not to bleed from them. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"I can live with scars." Graces slowly rose to her feet, ignoring how her legs felt weak and trembly. "Good day, Professor."

Everything about that man set her teeth on edge. She hurried through the castle heated and indignant with rage. She wanted to scream, cry and burn down something all at once.

"You okay?"

She slid her eyes over to where Neville had joined her. He strolled along side her casually, but it was obvious that he must have ran to her side.

"Fine," Graces said dully, removing her eyes from Neville's reddened face and walking faster to try and distance herself from him. When Neville matched her pace she sighed. "You shouldn't be walking with me."

"You seem upset," Neville murmured quietly. "Besides, we have the same class and we are partners. I don't think it's crazy if I walk with you. People will just think it coincidence, or me being terribly hopeless." Graces bit her lip and thought of the million things wrong with Neville's plan. "Here," Neville continued, holding out the paper due at the end of the week. "You can pretend like you're looking it over."

Graces made a show of irritatedly snatching the paper out of Neville's hand and sighing in frustration, as though she wasn't pleased to have him there beside her.

"Oi! You could have torn it! That's hours of our work there you almost ripped!"

"Good thing I'm a witch," Graces murmured, pretending to read over the paper. Neville was silent for a few moments before awkwardly clearing his throat and asking if he had been the one to upset her this morning.

"You?" Graces scowled. "No, of course not. Why would you even think such a thing?"

Neville flushed and rubbed the back of his neck, offering her no answer.

"Did you think I was worried about that girl?" Graces smirked, her cheeks reddening despite her attempt to feign confidence.

"No-no," Neville replied hurriedly, licking his lower lip nervously. "I just, well, was it maybe something Draco said then, perhaps?"

Graces frowned. Neville was not good at being subtle. It was obvious he was fishing for something.

"Should something Draco said have upset me?"

"What? No. I mean—I just wanted to know. That's all."

She hesitated a moment, torn between demanding more answers and just letting this one go. She really was in no position to be demanding of Neville, not after yesterday and last night. She knew she hurt him and his eyes told her just how much he was still wounded.

"Snape upset me."

"Snape?"

"Yeah. I don't want to talk about it. He's a sleaze and I hate him."

"I won't argue with any of that."

Graces looked down to hide her smile as a low chuckle came from somewhere deep in Neville's throat.

"Careful, Malfoy, someone will see you not scowling at me."

"Then I'll say that we were discussing your fight with Potter."

Neville gave her a disapproving glare which really made her smile. She turned away, quite happy with herself, and pretended to look at the paper and then in her pretending really took a look at it.

"Hey! You took out one of _my_ paragraphs!"

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"She's not even nice to him," Hannah grumbled, taking her seat and glaring at Neville and Graces as they quietly argued about their paper.

Hermione looked up and just shrugged. She really had no words for Neville at the moment. Not only had he hit her best friend, but he had made no effort to talk to anyone else other than Graces Malfoy and apparently Draco Malfoy.

She in no way thought how Harry had reacted yesterday was right. Honestly, a lot of people didn't blame him for intervening. Graces had been nothing but gracious and Harry had crossed a line. But to hit Harry again and again? To fight him like he did and then ignore him and everyone else? It wasn't right either.

"Did you see him and Draco talking before breakfast?"

"Yeah, I saw," Hermione sighed. Not only did she see she had to hear about it all through breakfast and her walk to class from Harry and Ron. Both boys were convinced that Malfoy was egging them on and Hermione, despite her telling them contrary, believed it as well.

"What do you think it was about?"

"Malfoy was probably just having laugh about yesterday's events."

Hannah made some noise of acknowledgement, but continued to look over at Neville who was now just silently standing with Graces, their argument now over and their usual silence taking hold.

"He looks really beat up. Do you think he's in pain?"

"I'm sure. I know Harry isn't feeling too grand."

"You know, I think he almost drew his wand against me for her once."

"What?" Hermione asked shrilly, startled at the thought of Neville drawing his wand against a girl.

"It wasn't anything serious." Hannah blushed. "It was back when he had to go to the infirmary because he was sick. I went there to visit him and he and Malfoy were in the same curtain and—"

"What do you mean they were in the same curtain?" Hermione scowled.

"I guess Malfoy was sick too. She sure looked it. She must have had a fever. She was dripping sweat and pale as a ghost. She looked as though she was close to vomiting. Anyways, Pomphrey quarantined them together."

"She did?"

"Yes, she did."

"That's odd."

"I suppose it is, but she did. Anyways, I came to visit him and when I found them they were standing together, talking."

"Friendly?"

"No, not at all. Maybe Neville was trying to be friendly, but it was obvious that Graces didn't want him there. She was exceptionally agitated. When I entered she started screaming at me to leave, and Neville just allowed her to. He didn't even scold her when she called me a half brain as well as a half breed."

"He heard her call you that?"

"He did. He said that she was ill, and that she asked me to leave. He made it out like I was the one being rude."

Hermione stared over at the boy she had known for over five years. She couldn't believe it.

"Then what happened?"

"I said something about how he should defend me and made some kind of comment about hexing her and he moved in front of her all protectively and—I don't know—something about his stance let me know if I reached for my wand he would reach for his as well."

Hermione was at a loss for words. This didn't sound at all like Neville, not the Neville she knew and loved. Then again the Neville she knew also wouldn't beat the pulp out of Harry. She had justified it to herself yesterday the way many others had. Harry was out of line, grabbing at a girl like that. Ron had even told her in confidence that if Harry had touched her or Ginny like that he would have done the same.

"It's like she has a hold on him somehow."

"Pretty girls tend to be able to do that," Hermione murmured, more to herself than to Hannah. "And Graces is a very pretty girl. It's not that surprising she could have Neville wrapped around her finger."

"Yes, but... usually those girls are at least nice to the bloke. She's not nice to Neville."

Hermione was silent for a moment. She could be nice to Neville though. She had witnessed her being nice to him. Once when he lost the bet, and again when Ron and Harry had mentioned their race. And she had been very nice to all of them just yesterday. She had even paid her a compliment. Hermione looked up and marveled at Graces' skill. One moment she could be enchanting, the next cold and stoic.

Hermione could barely breathe as she remembered Graces' cruelty towards her in the prefect's bathroom.

" _Why won't you leave Neville alone?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence and moving to the edge of the water to glare down at the girl before her._

" _Leave him alone," Graces frowned. "Now, why would I do that? Longbottom needs my help, and I owe him a debt."_

" _You know what I mean," Hermione said. "Why are you toying with him? Flirting with him, touching his arm, asking him to help you with Herbology, isolating him from his friends. Why are you doing this?"_

" _Now, Granger," Graces smiled, wafting the water around her lazily "I would think that's obvious. I'm doing it because of you."_

" _Please, stop," Hermione choked. "Please."_

" _No."_

Did she ever stop? Was this a continuation of her long, sick, twisted game?

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

Hermione turned to where Ron had placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Hannah, Harry and Ron were all staring at her in concern. She nodded and was thankful that Sprout had ordered everyone to start harvesting their Nux Myristica. She followed Hannah over to their plants on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, unable to stop herself from trying to look through the foliage to see how Neville and Graces were interacting. It was no use though. She couldn't see a thing.

"Do our buds look strange to you?" Hermione asked, an idea beginning to bloom in her mind.

"No, they're—"

"I think something's wrong... It's like they're not ripe at all."

"What are you talking about? They—"

"I think I'm going to ask Neville to take a look."

Hannah's mouth dropped to protest, but Hermione already was hurrying away. Professor Sprout had allowed them to plant wherever they pleased, wanting them to choose based on what they knew of the plant. Neville had been excited to plant by some old trees that were starting to rot. She remembered him telling her it was a bit off from the lake.

She slowed her pace as she neared the heavy trees that surrounded her friend and strained her ears to their conversation. Sadly, nothing was being said. She inched closer deciding to hide between some bushes and a tree. After a minute she began to feel exceptionally foolish. Graces and Neville were not even looking at one another. Both of them were elbow deep in soil with bored expressions on their faces.

She had just concluded that she was wrong, and becoming overly paranoid like Harry when Neville began to speak.

"I heard an interesting rumor today," he began coolly, sitting up from his knees and stretching his back.

Graces made some noise of acknowledgement but didn't look up from the soil she was sifting through.

"Yeah, it was regarding you." Another disinterested noise. "And Graham Montague."

Graces didn't appear to be listening. She murmured some frustration about getting dirty, scowled and continued to work.

"I, uh, heard you two are _involved,"_ Neville continued louder, obviously getting a little antsy at Graces' ignorance. "Soon to be engaged even."

"Really?" Graces asked, looking up with only slight interest. "How intriguing. Do you think we will have a summer wedding? I always wanted a summer wedding."

"Summer weddings are nice," Neville acknowledged, waiting for more of a response and not receiving one.

"What kind of flowers do you think you would have?"

Hermione frowned. Neville's question almost seemed... playful.

"What kind do you think I should have?" Graces asked, now stopping her sifting and looking over at him.

"Depends on what colors you want."

"Pink? That's always a good color to have at a wedding."

"It is. Complements you well too." Graces smiled at the approval, before asking what a good flower would be. "Peonies would be nice."

"Peonies," Graces murmured, rolling the name around again and again on her tongue. As if saying it could help her envision it. "Yes," she said slowly after a few moments. "I believe that would work wonderfully."

Graces laughed. "Can you imagine Graham in pink? That's it. My gods, it's almost worth making pink the color just for that."

Graces went back to her work, a ghost of laughter still playing on her fine features, not seeming to notice that Neville looked increasingly uneasy. Graces had just started to really make progress with her buds when Neville hesitantly spoke again.

"Graces." Hermione watched as Graces paused and looked over at him. There was no sly gleam, no smirk, nothing malicious in her features as she stared at Neville.

"Forgive me," Neville continued, taking a deep breath. "But I need to hear you say it isn't true."

A tension had filled the air at Neville's question. Graces stared at him for what felt like hours, despite only seconds ticking by before finally answering "It's not."

She looked so hurt. As though the question was asked just to wound her.

"Then why would Graham say such a thing?"

Graces hugged her arms around her and worried her lip. "I have an idea as to why..."

"Does he think it's true?"

Graces shook her head. "No. Trust me. Graham does not want to marry me. At least not the way you think. We both know ourselves to be a good match, but it's more of a back up plan. As you well know." Hermione frowned. There seemed to be some hidden meaning behind Graces' last statement. "We would much prefer to remain friends."

"I distinctly remember him kissing you _and_ aski—"

"He wants to uphold his family name and honor. Yes, he thinks he would enjoy me and eventually love me, but—" Graces hesitated "—he really only wants me as a distraction."

"A distraction... from what?"

"I believe you had breakfast with her."

Neville frowned and then seemed to catch on.

"Well, I'll be damned. Really?" Graces' lips tightened and she nodded in a way that told Hermione she thought the idea ridiculous.

"Does Wamil know he has feelings for her?"

"No. And you're not going to tell her anything," Graces snapped, pointing her finger threateningly at Neville. "A scandal like that could ruin Graham's life. He's already having problems at home with his family and if they found out he had his eyes on some half-breed harpy he would lose everything."

"Yes, but if they love each other—"

"Graham loves his family. His mother, father and sisters," Graces informed him stonily. "I highly doubt he loves that girl. He barely knows her."

"He could."

"He doesn't."

"Is that according to your standards or by his?"

Graces whirled around at Neville's words and stared at him as though he had struck her.

"I'm sorry that was—"

"Uncalled for," Graces finished, clearly upset.

"It was. I apologize."

Graces searched his face for any hint of insincerity, before finally nodding her acceptance and looking away. Neville continued watching her, clearly beating himself up for whatever crass exchange had taken place.

"So, um, Valentine's day is around the corner," he started nervously, clearly grasping at something to turn the mood. "And I was wo—"

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish."

"I wanted to prevent you from saying something stupid and sappy like 'Will you be my valentine?'. I fear if you utter anything near to that sentence I will lose all respect for you."

Neville flushed, but didn't let Graces' nasty words deter him.

"I really would like to take you out. I planned a date for us over break. We won't be able to go on Valentine's Day, but I, uh, got portkeys to take us off campus for that Saturday and—"

"Portkeys?" Graces echoed in disbelief. "How on earth did you manage that?"

"You're not the only one who has friends in the Ministry, Malfoy."

"I'm intrigued," Graces exclaimed, her laughter coming out breathless. "Do tell."

"My godfather... he works in the portkey department. I paid him a visit and asked for a favor."

"Madam Blanc for a godmother and a Ministry man for a godfather? I am very impressed." Neville gave a soft chuckle and waited for Graces to continue. "And where do these Portkeys go?"

"That you can only find out if you accept."

"What rubbish is that? Not even a hint?"

"Nope. It's a total surprise."

Graces twisted her mouth in thought. "How do I know it's worth it?"

"It's worth it. Trust me. You've never been anywhere like it."

"I've been to a lot of places," Graces bragged, her highbred accent highlighted for the occasion, as though she wanted to remind Neville of how much money her family had.

"You haven't been here," Neville maintained, not allowing himself to be at all intimidated.

Graces raised a brow and bit her lip. "Well, this is exciting isn't it?"

"So is that a yes?"

There was a long pause, before Graces turned and faced him seriously.

"I just don't think it's a good idea," she said softly, her face looking almost apologetic.

"Because we're leaving school?"

"Because you're a blood traitor and I would be in a heap of trouble if anyone found out I went on a date with you."

"No one is going to find out."

"You can't guarantee that," Graces pointed out sadly, turning away so Neville could only see her back.

Neville looked completely crestfallen at Graces' proclamation. He didn't argue with her, or try to plead his case. He just accepted Graces' decision.

"We could still spend time together," Graces offered, not needing to look at Neville to know his disappointment. "Just in private... like we usually do."

"I know... I just wanted to take you out. I wanted it to be special. I wanted to do something special for you. I wanted to go out," Neville added. "I never had someone to share Valentine's Day with before."

Graces slowly turned and took in Neville's expression. Hermione watched as Neville gave her a small smile and told her not to worry about it, that he was just being sappy and to ignore him.

The matter appeared to be settled, and just when Hermione thought she could come out from her hiding spot and pretend to ask Neville some questions, Graces spoke.

"I'll think about it."


	77. Chapter 77

Love. He had said love. Graces sat by the desk and watched Neville as he slept. She knew he didn't love her, it wasn't possible for him to. And yet, here she was sitting in the dark thinking about it. She hadn't been able to stop thinking of it since he proclaimed it. Her hands moved absently to the chain around her neck holding the gift Neville had given her so long ago. At least she felt like it was long ago.

She could hear Neville stirring from his sleep and sat up slightly as he disorientedly sat up and looked around the room for her.

"What time is it?" Neville yawned, rubbing his eyes from sleep and trying to focus on her.

"It's very late."

"Late and cold."

Graces nodded and tucked her legs closer to her chest. She hadn't realized how chilled the air was till now, but her feet beneath her felt like ice.

"Come to bed."

It was said so tenderly she felt compelled to listen. She stood up from the chair as Neville opened the blankets for her to come in, pulling her closer to him as she moved on top of the bed. He held her like he did every night: close to his broad chest and with strong arms that wrapped her up into him.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

He was obviously tired; she could hear the weariness in his voice and the hand that was stroking her head seemed to be slowing as he fought sleep.

"It's nothing."

"It very rarely is nothing with you," Neville chuckled, smiling against the top of her head. He was smelling her hair. He always fell asleep smelling her hair.

"Do I smell good?"

"Heavenly."

She smiled against his chest and soon after the joy she felt diminished as she remembered what he had said to her last night. _I'm in love with you._

"Oh, so it's that bad."

"What do you mean?" She moved away from him so she could see his face.

"You hold me tighter when something is wrong."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you do," Neville grinned, his eyes closed as though he wondered close to sleep. "I like it though. Makes me feel needed."

"You are needed," Graces whispered, placing her hand on his cheek.

Neville gave a tired laugh and pulled her back into him for sleep. She couldn't though. She laid there and wondered if what he said was true.

"Neville... Neville."

Neville made some noise that sounded like a mix between a groan and whimper.

"I'm sorry. Nevermind."

"No-no. I'm up. I'm up." Graces began to protest, but Neville already had sat up in the bed, spelled some light and was drinking her glass of water, his was already empty, to wake up. After a few moments he waved his hand lazily encouraging her to talk.

"Let's just go to bed," Graces flushed.

"Graces, you know I'm not a morning person right? And also, that unlike you, I can't sleep through natural disasters."

"I don't—"

"You do. Once you're out, you're out. And then you wake up unnaturally early. Now, lately I've been waking up super early and going to bed super late, and it's killing me. It really is, Graces. I need sleep. _Need,_ " Neville stressed. "So please, Graces, for my sake. Just tell me what's wrong."

Graces opened her mouth to speak and then quickly shut it.

"I—." _Deep breath._ "—I would love to go out with you on Valentine's Day."

There was a penetrating silence as Neville took in her words. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Graces nodded, her voice barely a whisper.

"You don't seem very sure," Neville pointed out.

"I am though. I'm sure."

He didn't believe her. His wary stare and subdued expression showcased his doubts. Still, she put on her brave face and did her best not to show her own hesitations.

"I want to make this very clear, Graces," Neville began, his tone serious. "You do not have to feel guilty about not loving me. You do not have to feel badly about last night or about my fight with Harry."

Those could all very well be her reasons for agreeing to this. The idea of her going on an actual date with Neville was still so absurd, and she had spent hours wondering why she felt the need to give him this. She should be saying no. It made sense to say no, so surely her reasonings to go would be solely out of guilt and thus should be ignored. But in the end, after all her reasoning and thoughts, she still came back to the same decision and it was like all of those reasons that she had compiled didn't matter anymore.

"Like I said. I would love to go."

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She was staring at him again. It seemed she was doing a lot of that these past few days. Graces sat captivated once again by the man in front of her. She watched as Neville fingered through books, hurriedly scribbled some notes and quietly cursed whenever he spilled a bit of ink on his final paper. A dark mark came down from the side of his cheek from earlier when he had absently rubbed his face and forgotten the ink on his fingers and his hair was becoming increasingly disheveled from his fingers running through it. He lacked elegance, refinement and the ability to feign looking calm and collected in times of chaos. He was nothing of what she imagined for herself. And yet he was all she wanted.

He took another swig of his tea and glanced down into the cup, his brows furrowing slightly, before making an impatient huff and going back to the paper he forgot was due tomorrow. Graces smiled quietly to herself and stood from where she was reading and returned with a fresh cup to replace his empty one.

Neville took it gratefully and kissed her cheek in thanks. She flushed at the contact. He kissed her in thanks the same way her father kissed her mother when she brought him tea, the way that reminded her growing up how in love her father was with her mother. He paused his frantic work, took the cup and with one hand leaned her down gently with the other to softly kiss her cheek, lingering in the space between her neck and collar his hand still softly touching her neck. And just as she had seen her mother do countless times she found herself moving to sit on his lap to rest her head on his chest.

"Are you sure you don't want my help?" She whispered, closing her eyes for a moment as Neville twined his fingers in her hair.

"Very sure."

She could feel the vibrations from his chuckle against her cheek and snuggled closer to him, her fingers absently unbuttoning his shirt and finding their way to his chest. She knew he was busy, frantic to try and finish his paper so he could go to bed, but he didn't try and dismiss her. He lounged back in his chair and relaxed beneath her touch.

"I'm glad you're not staying out in the Greenhouse so late now, or leaving so early. It's nice having you here."

Neville smiled against her head in reply, but didn't say anything else on the subject. Graces had a feeling that he wasn't going to the Greenhouse to work on any project and had pestered him quite a bit about it the other night until Neville admitted he was doing it to keep people from knowing about them. He wanted people to think he was there, because he so commonly was, and not wonder or ask if he had been elsewhere. It did make sense, and Graces dropped her complaining about his time spent away from her.

"I'm so sorry I forgot about this paper," Neville sighed.

"It's not our Valentine's Day anyways," Graces breathed, disappointed despite her words. "And you did send me flowers."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Lilies, white cotton and lavender," Graces giggled. "Who else would send me such a strange array of flowers."

"I don't know. It seemed you had many people who felt the need to send you flowers."

Graces grinned against Neville's chest.

"Do I detect a hint of jealously?" Neville's jaw tensed and Graces enjoyed his irritation for a few moments before promising him he had nothing to be jealous about.

"So who all sent them?"

"Draco, Thomas, Graham—for appearances, I'm sure—and my father," she whispered quietly. "He must have a standing order to send me flowers. He always sends me flowers on Valentine's day, a smaller version of the ones he'd send my mother. And my mother, of course, sent me chocolates."

"Oh of course," Neville teased, his arms tightening around her. Graces smirked and closed her eyes, content to just sit here the rest of the night. "I'm sorry he isn't here. I know you miss him."

"I miss both of them," Graces murmured tightly. "I miss my mother too."

Graces appreciated that Neville seemed to know when there were no need for words. He held her silently, allowing her to feel the ache in her chest that was for her parents. He was there and that for a million reasons was enough.

"You should make up with Potter."

"I should finish this paper."

"Yes, I agree, and then you should make up with Potter."

Neville groaned, but Graces didn't relent.

"Neville, it doesn't look right for you two to be fighting, and I can't stand the guilt. I feel like I've cost you greatly. So apologize—yes, apologize." Graces stressed, already seeing the argument on Neville's lips "Potter was right. Every single thing he said was right. He's not paranoid and you knew that and you punched him."

"He had no right to touch you."

"Yeah, well Draco broke his nose earlier this year and my father and aunt tried to kill him, so he's allowed to be a bit overzealous."

"No he's not." Graces held her breathe as Neville cupped her face, his eyes intent as he stared into her's. "No one is allowed to touch you, Graces. Absolutely no one. Not Harry Potter, not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, _no one_."

"Please, Neville, for me. Make amends," Graces whispered, her hand joining the one he had placed on her face. She kissed his palm and waited, hoping he would bend.

"I'll think about it." Graces couldn't help but grin, she did love getting her way. "I'll think about it _after_ I finish this paper," Neville added pointedly.

Graces knew she was being dismissed, but she remained where she was, casually dancing her fingers to the desk drawer where she kept her usual assortments of sugar quills.

"Just one more thing,"she purred, taking out the small, red leather casing she had stored away. "Happy Valentine's Day, Mr. Longbottom."

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Neville stared at the the small box Graces was presenting to him, the box that he was sure just from the fine leather casing held something obnoxiously expensive.

"What did you think I didn't get you anything?" Graces teased. "For shame."

"No, I just—"

"Open it."

She was like a child on Christmas day, all smiles and excitement. She was practically bouncing up and down with joy, making the Gryffindor even more nervous for what was in store for him. He gave her a nervous smile and opened the tiny box.

Cufflinks. Gold cufflinks, each with a massive ruby.

"I was going to get you a watch," Graces mused idly. "A very fine watch, but—" she paused "—I assumed this one had sentimental value."

Neville tore his eyes away from the cufflinks to where Graces was tapping his wrist, just above where his watch sat.

"It was my father's," he said softly, slowly taking his wrist away so he could reach over and touch the old leather and the gold that long ago had dimmed.

"I thought so," Graces sighed, laying her head down on his shoulder and looking over to the cufflinks. "No watch I could have given you would have been as beloved, and I do hate competing, so I decided on these."

"Surely, those aren't real," he whispered, sort of hoping against hope they weren't.

"Of course they're real," Graces scoffed, taking them out and holding them against his wrist, imagining them on him. "I'm a Malfoy, do you think I would purchase anything but the best? These are real, the gold is real too," she winked, all too happy with herself. "Do you like them?"

"I do," Neville admitted awkwardly. "But I can't accept them. They're far too expensive."

Graces rolled her eyes at his concern. "You can and you will," she declared, nodding once for emphasis. "You should have nice things and a man needs a good pair of cufflinks, it's one of the things that other men notice when you shake their hand."

Neville could feel his heart growing increasingly heavy. He wanted to just not accept them, have Graces take them back, but he knew that it would be rude to ask her to. Still, he didn't want them.

"Gifts like this are supposed to make you happy," Graces frowned, her eyes showing how little she understood his feelings. "I bought these to make you happy."

Neville took a deep breath and tried to think of how to explain this to Graces.

"I will never be able to buy you anything as extravagant as this so casually, Graces. So receiving such a gift from you just reminds me of that. It makes me feel bad that I can't get you anything as nice in return."

"What are you talking about?" Graces laughed, clearly not seeing his point. "You gave me this, and this has to be worth more than those cufflinks. It's old magic," she exclaimed, holding it out so that the runes showed.

Neville looked at the necklace she pulled out from under her shirt. He took the pendent in between his fingers and moved it so it glistened in the candlelight, the old magic still alive within the glass. It was worth a lot, but...

"This was from my family vault," Neville reminded. "I didn't buy it and all it was doing was just sitting gathering dust. It's supposed to be used to make alliances, but I don't think I ever would have used it."

"Yes, but—"

"Graces, you bought me a hospital wing. A bloody hospital wing. Not that I'm not thankful for it. I am so thankful, eternally thankful," Neville stressed. "You'll never know how grateful I am to you. But do you understand how that, and now this could make me feel uncomfortable?"

"No, I mean, you're not poor. You dress poorly, but you're not actually poor." Neville ignored the slight and waited patiently for Graces to gather her thoughts and explain what she meant. "Your family has a lot of property and a... an acceptable—" she said carefully, "—amount of coin in the vaults? Right? I mean, I always assumed you did."

"We're very comfortable," Neville answered, wondering if Graces did in fact think his family may be poor. "We don't touch most of the money we have though. We only use the income we earn from our jobs, that way if something unfortunate happens there is gold to fall back on."

"How much do you all have?"

Neville raised a brow at Graces' obvious attempt to sound casual.

"Not much in comparison to you, and we are by no means rich."

"But surely you were left money after all those people in your family died during the war. You would have been left with—"

"All that money was donated to the war, helping people who had lost their breadwinners, hiding muggleborns, to the Order," Neville explained calmly, waving his hand to indicate there was more. "We only kept the property for ourselves."

"Oh."

"I know you're rich, Graces," Neville continued, blushing despite himself. "I know you're used to gifts that are expensive and elaborate, gifts that even if I was working as a professor here I wouldn't be able to afford, and—"

"I don't want anything from you. I—"

"But I want to give things to you," Neville countered. "And I can't. I can't and by the time I am able to get you anything decently nice... you won't be here anymore," Neville whispered quietly, a familiar ache taking hold of him.

Graces didn't argue his point. She sat quietly absorbing the weight of his words.

"You need to stop listening to that-that muggle music you like."

"Excuse me?" Neville asked, completely taken aback by the turn in conversation.

"It's all dark and sad. Moody. I don't like it." She declared similar to a petulant child. Neville scowled at the heat in her words. "Like the song you were listening to earlier, when I came in for the night. I hate it. Why would you listen to that song? It just puts these-these sad thoughts in your head."

"I—" Neville pursed his lips and tried to remember what song Graces' was referring to. "What song?"

"You know the one," Graces snapped. "They're all sad, but the one earlier. The one about a relationship ending." Neville noted the tightness in Graces' voice, but sat still waiting for her to finish. "A relationship ending and then the two people becoming strangers. Not knowing one another, or pretending to not know one another."

"How's It Going to Be?" Neville offered, remembering the song. Graces glared at him accusingly, as though he were arguing with her point. "I like that song," he said pointedly. "It's a good song."

"It's a sad song!" Graces declared, her anger bringing her to stand.

Silence enfolded them.

"It's sad," Graces pleaded, going to her knees in front of him and taking his hands in hers. "It's sad and I don't want you sad. I don't want you thinking of-of when I leave. I don't want to think about when I leave."

"I am not sad," Neville swore, moving to bend down with her. "I am so happy. The happiest I have ever been in my entire life." He leaned in and kissed her softly. "You're mine. I never in my entire life thought I would have someone for myself like you."

"Then why were you listening to that song."

"It was on the radio."

"You turned it up when it came on. You didn't even hear me come in, you turned it up and-and I saw you, Neville. You stopped and listened to it."

"You're reading too much into this," Neville lied. "I just like the song."

"I don't believe you." Graces hiccuped. "I think you feel like-like that song is us. You're thinking about when we end. You just mentioned it a moment ago!"

"Graces," Neville whispered, moving to touch her and being pushed away.

"I'm not going to abandon you!" Graces exclaimed. "When we end I—you won't be a stranger to me."

Neville knew that wasn't true. Everything about their lives, their paths, pointed to that not being true. For months she had made a point that when they ended they were done and now... now she was involved. He pushed for this, a relationship that mattered, that had feeling, and now he had it. She did care; it wasn't just sex. She wanted to be with him and when they ended it was going to hurt her just as much as it was going to hurt him. He could see that now. She was right to keep her distance in the beginning. He was wrong for asking more. She couldn't keep the promise she was making to him now. She loved Draco and her family, she wouldn't give them up for him. They would eventually end and when they did they would act like strangers.

"I know," Neville murmured. "I know."

He wanted to touch her, needed to touch her. In moments like this he just wanted to remind himself that she was there and his. He held her and looked around them. The books, the room, even himself... Graces hid from reality. For all her declarations of knowing what was in store for them, for her own life, she ignored it, not facing anything unpleasant until she absolutely had to. She was so innocent in that way. Her parents probably did this for her growing up, they hid anything nasty and scary from her. They may have told her how the world was, but they certainly didn't let it touch her. He didn't have that growing up. He wasn't told the world was sad, he was shown it, he lived it.

He saw a crazed mother, an incapacitated father. His grandparents struggled with loss and renewed responsibility. This was Graces' first real taste of the real world without her mother and father as her human shield, and she had suffered greatly, but, even still, she was clearly unwilling to face it completely. In a way he was responsible for that. He was the one that made this world for them. The one she threw herself in. And she wanted no reminder that it wasn't going to last, that it was so fragile it could break at any moment.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, unsure what else to say.

"Why did you have to bring up us ending?" Graces sniffed. "What good does it do?"

"It doesn't do any good," Neville acknowledged.

"Do you think of it often?" She was looking up at him with such worry he couldn't have told her the truth if he wanted to.

"No. I don't."

Neville had a feeling that Graces knew better, but wasn't willing to dive into what the future held for them. At least not yet. Neville turned her chin upward and kissed her hard on the mouth.

"Let me start over," he whispered, kissing her again and running his hand down to her fine neck. "I love the gift. I can't wait to wear them. I think I may actually be able to fool people into thinking I'm a gentleman with them."

Graces gave him a small smile, but it was clear her thoughts were still with what he said earlier.

"And come Saturday I am going to spoil you rotten," he continued, wanting to divert her attentions further. "You're going to love it."

"What are we doing?" Graces asked, her eyes starting to sparkle with excitement.

"You keep asking me that and I keep telling you it's a secret."

"I'm hoping you'll forget. You _are_ forgetful."

Neville narrowed his eyes and tickled Graces' side, causing the blonde to laugh exuberantly and try to move away from his arms unsuccessfully.

"Don't be a prat," Neville scolded. "I want our first date to be perfect. The best date you've ever been on."

"It already will be. I'll be with you."

They had a million problems. A million problems and he had a paper he needed to finish, but when she looked at him like that his skin flushed and his blood boiled to the point where none of the things he should be thinking about mattered. What did matter was her skin was soft beneath his touch. Her mouth sought his with the same need with which he sought hers. Her breath caught when he entered her and she held him like she never wanted to leave his side. And considering how little time they had, it would be a sin to waste any moment of the time they had.

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Hermione stared at the map before her, chest vibrating and mouth dry. She had been watching Neville for hours, it was now only two hours before the rest of the castle would be awaking and he was still with Graces Malfoy. Tucked away in a far corner of the castle beyond where anyone would see them.

She put the map down, unable to stare at it any longer and paced between the fireplace and the staircase in the common room trying to think of what to do. She still didn't know what was happening. The map only showed that they were together. Even as Hermione thought these thoughts she couldn't convince herself that nothing was happening.

She walked up to the 6th year boys dorm room with a half formed plan in her head and prayed that she was wrong about everything.

Harry awoke and almost jumped out of bed at seeing her.

"What's wrong? Is it Ron?"

Hermione yanked Harry back before he could go wake Ron from his own sleep. She had been thinking about Neville so much that she had almost forgotten that Ron had accidently been love potioned earlier. She probably should have offered to help with getting Ron under control so he would stop trying to find Romilda Vane. It seemed Harry had managed though, and in a way it may have been a good thing she had not offered to help, because he had to go to Slughorn.

"Ron's fine," she whispered. "He's sleeping."

Harry let out a relieved breath before his concern transferred to her.

"What's wrong?"

"I, well, I'm not sure," she answered finally. "But I was wondering if you wouldn't mind letting me use your cloak."

Harry frowned at her request. "Why?"

"It's... private," Hermione decided, knowing that Neville and Graces was still a sore subject for Harry. She didn't want him or Ron going to talk with Neville when she had no real proof of what was going on other than they were together at night... on Valentine's Day. It really didn't look good, and she had a feeling that this wasn't Neville's fault.

Graces was not the type to be above using a kind soul like Neville.

"I would only need it on Saturday," Hermione continued, praying that Harry would say yes. "It's very important, Harry. Please."

"First you ask for the map and now you're asking for my cloak? Just tell me what's wrong."

"I can't," Hermione whispered, her voice already getting tight. "Harry, I think I made a mistake a few months back, a very grave mistake, and I need to see something. Please, please let me use it and don't ask me why, at least not yet."

Hermione wiped away a few tears that had escaped her. She couldn't stop feeling like this was her fault. She had told Graces Neville liked her and then asked her to keep away from him and the blonde seemed to take that as a challenge, and now Neville, someone who had always been the kindest boy in the school, was possibly entangled in her web.

Harry studied her for a few moments before agreeing and sluggishly moving to his trunk to take out the cloak.

"Nothing happens to this cloak."

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She was a bad person. The longer she stood there, hiding under the cloak, watching Neville eat breakfast alone in the greenhouse, the more awful she felt. He was just sitting quietly looking over some old notebooks Professor Sprout had given him and eating a bacon sandwich with tea. This was Neville. She could just talk to him, ask him about Malfoy and then—

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by owls flying into the greenhouse delivering a long white box with a red bow. The other Gryffindor jumped up from his seat, knocking over his cup of tea in his excitement and as he dug through his pockets for some gold.

Hermione soon found herself rushing to follow Neville as he shrunk the box and started towards the castle. She knew where they were heading before they even entered the castle. They were going to the same place she had seen him on the map the other night. He weaved through students and halls until they were in an abandoned part of the castle. Hermione looked around at the walls lined with portraits and almost slammed into Neville as he stopped and began taking off his cloak. Hermione blushed as she realized Neville was undressing. She was about to turn away when she realized he was wearing a different set of clothes under his uniform. He even had different pants under his dress pants.

He had changed. She hadn't noticed it so much as she did now. The clothes underneath his uniform fit him better, the colors complimented him more. It wasn't as though they were very fashionable clothes, they weren't, but it showed his changes. Neville had changed so much from the outside and she barely noticed it till right now. He even looked happier.

Neville resized the box from earlier and opened it up, revealing a dozen long stem roses wrapped in red ribbon. He examined each one before standing up from the ground and walking forward again. Hermione kept close, her heart banging in her chest with anticipation as they approached an old oil painting.

"Would you please ask Miss Malfoy to come to the door?" Neville requested politely, his voice shaking slightly, but a grin spreading across his face. The man in the portrait smiled and disappeared and a few moments later Graces answered looking exceptionally confused at seeing Neville standing before her.

"Happy Valentines Day," Neville greeted, holding the flowers forward and blushing crimson.

Graces raised an elegant eyebrow, but took the flowers. "Thank you."

She stood in the doorway, holding the roses and staring at Neville quizzically.

"Uh, may I come in?" Neville asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"I'm trying to figure out why you didn't before."

Neville swallowed hard and looked down at his shoes for a moment before looking back up at her.

"It's our first date," he murmured awkwardly. "I, uh, wanted to do everything properly."

"I see." Her voice was slow and articulate. The blonde was clearly delighting in Neville's nervousness. "I take it my brother will be here soon then?"

"Wh-what?" Neville asked, his eyes widening in fear. "No! Did you—"

"I'm just kidding, Longbottom," Graces laughed moving out of the doorway. "Pointing out that _properly_ would involve my brother chaperoning."

"Well, maybe not that proper," Neville laughed, entering behind Graces. Hermione followed them in and moved to the corner of the room, soaking in all that was around them. Did Graces have a private apartment at Hogwarts?

She watched as the blonde moved to the kitchen and searched the cupboards for a vase.

"This is my last vase, you know," Graces pointed out. "Any more flowers and I won't have anything to put them in."

"I'm sure you could get more vases," Neville chuckled, moving into the kitchen with her and helping to arrange.

"You're very good at that," Graces noted, moving out of the way so Neville could tinker with the stems.

"I know." Hermione had never in her life seen Neville wink and she wondered how close he and Graces were. How long had this been going on? He said this was their first date, but he interacted with her as though he was familiar with her. Well, at least now he was, before he seemed beyond nervous.

"You look lovely by the way," Neville continued, taking a step back to appraise Graces' outfit, which Hermione just realized was muggle. As was his own. Graces was wearing a very nice flowing, v-neck, fern-green dress with sleeves that went to her elbows and gold buttons that came slightly down the top. It was accessorized by a thin gold belt and a very beautiful necklace that Hermione was sure was magical.

"Well, I do hope you think so considering you sent it to me with the order to wear it for today."

"Do you not like it?" Neville asked, his confidence disappearing at Graces' obvious dislike. "It should be very stylish, I ordered it from a popular magazine and—"

"It's muggle," Graces stated flatly. "Why am I in a muggle dress, Neville?" She inquired dangerously, her eyes narrowing.

"Because, um, where we are going is, well, muggle." Graces pursed her lips, but Neville quickly continued before she could begin yelling. "You will like this AND it's the only way for us to be able to go somewhere together."

"I don't—"

"Graces," Neville cut off, moving closer to her and placing a calming hand on her cheek. "Please, trust me. Today is going to be perfect. I promise."

Surprisingly, Graces didn't argue any further and nodded her head. She still was giving Neville a warning look, but the Gryffindor didn't seem to pay it any mind.

"Are you ready?" Neville asked, grinning from ear to ear as he took off his watch and handed Graces' the other end to hold.

"The portkey is your watch?" Graces asked astonished.

"Yeah, it's only going to be active today though."

"I'm still in complete shock you managed to get a portkey."

"Friends in high places," Neville winked, waiting for Graces to take the other end. Hermione inched closer, doing her best not to touch either Neville or Graces as she placed a timid finger on the bottom of the watch's face.

"Ready?" Neville asked, holding on tight. Graces worried her lip for a moment before declaring she was ready. "Brilliant. Portus!"

Hermione held her breath as well as the cloak around her as they were all pulled away from the room and whizzing towards their destination. She felt ill with worry, unsure how she was going to land and remain covered and unnoticed at the same time. When they landed she stumbled right into Graces side and knocked her down, her cloak moving slightly off her, but surprisingly the blonde didn't seem to see her at all. She turned to see if Neville had seen her, but he too had been too preoccupied with catching himself to look up at where she was.

"You okay?" He asked, moving over to where Graces was and helping her up.

"Fine, I think you may have bumped me when we landed."

"I might have," Neville laughed. "I've never been good at landing with these things."

Graces smiled and looked around at the trees surrounding them.

"Is this it? You got me all dressed up for a forest."

"We just landed in the forest," Neville corrected, shaking his head at Graces' lack of faith. "We can't exactly pop out of thin air around muggles."

"You're right. That's how we get burned at the stake."

Neville ignored her comment and instead gestured for her to follow.

"So where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"Still!"

"Still," Neville confirmed, moving some branches so Graces could step through.

"You didn't exactly dress me for a hike," the blonde grumbled, needing some help to get over an array of twigs.

"We're almost there," Neville promised, releasing the blonde's hand once she had made it to a clearing.

Hermione followed a good distance away to keep from making any noise. She could hear people off in the distance and smell an array of foods. When they neared the forest's edge she knew exactly where Neville was taking Graces and hurried forward to see the blonde's reaction.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Neville exclaimed, once Graces stepped out from the trees.

Graces stood there for a few moments, looking at the scene before her and the people rushing past.

"Where are we?" She asked, clearly unsure of what any of this was. She took a step back as though being here made her uneasy enough to run, but Neville moved forward and took her hand.

"This, Graces, is a cinema."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a date! It's a date! It's a D-A-T-E!!!
> 
> ALSO, Graces pronounced [ˈgrɛɪ̯.siz] or Gray-seez. I know.. Still a weird name, but I wanted to make a point that it's not Grace OR Grace-es.


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you're all aware this is a big moment for Graces and Neville, but it's a bigger chapter to give us more insight as to Neville himself. I think that there is a lot to Neville that we didn't get from the books and in my mind this is how I imagined him. I think he was a sensitive person yes, but I also think he was exceptionally private. He never really talked about his parents and things of that nature. I think we got glimpses into what his life was like but we never got to know much of what he thought and felt. And he didn't seem to offer any of that to Harry in the books. I was excited to write this to show what I thought he was like, how he thought, but also to show his character and morality.

Graces took another step back and Neville's heart sank slightly as her eyes wandered around the small pavilion, taking in the people, the crowds, the unfamiliar noise and none of it's beauty. Neville could already see she didn't see the happy faces, smell the aromas, she was already sinking into her panic.

Her hand slipped out of his and she pressed it close to her chest as she backed too far away for him to hold onto. "Neville, I-I'm so sorry, but I—"

"Scared, Malfoy?" Neville teased, doing his best to make light of the situation and closing the space between them.

Graces' eyes fixated on the people ahead of them. She stared for a few moments, her lips slightly parted to take in the extra air her lungs seemed to think they needed. "Yes, actually. I am."

She looked back up at him with such helplessness he had an urge to just forget the whole affair and take her home.

"You have nothing to be scared of here, Graces," he reassured, moving so she couldn't see anything but him.

"If you believe that you're a fool." He was losing her, and he was losing her fast. He could see the fear turning to anger and frustration. "How could you," she hissed. "How could you bring me here! Here! Of all places!"

"Graces—"

"Stones, drowned, burned! I am not going in there," she choked, the lump in her throat growing so big she could barely speak. "I won't! If something happened if—"

"Dr. Harris" Neville interrupted, grabbing at the only thing he could think of. Her doubts. Her doubts that he had never out right confronted or pushed.

Graces' fell silent at the name and Neville felt some relief to see the small flicker of doubt come to her eyes.

"He knew who you were and what you were."

"That was different. He was different. I—"

"I've lived in a muggle town my whole life, Graces. I went to a muggle school before attending Hogwarts." Graces' eyes widened at his proclamation. "He wasn't different," Neville murmured quietly. "Not really. Yes, they would be scared if they knew. I have no doubt about that. There would be issues, just as we are scared of what we don't know. But they're just people, Graces. No one is going to know what you are, or what I am. You are perfectly safe, and I wouldn't allow you to be anything but."

"You know I _am_ a wizard," Neville reminded, giving her a charming grin to help eliminate her doubt. "I broke into the Ministry, I think I can handle a few muggles." The ends of her mouth flicked slightly and Neville continued on. " _And_ , may I remind you my dear, you are a witch. A witch who doesn't have a trace placed on her."

"Do I detect some jealousy, Mr. Longbottom?"

"A bit," Neville admitted. "Wish I had friends that high in the Ministry."

Graces let out a small laugh and Neville prayed that he had her.

"Do you still want to go back?" he asked hesitantly. Graces bit her lower lip and moved so she could look back out. He knew she was frightened and in hindsight maybe this was a bad decision, but he still hoped. "Please, trust me," he begged softly.

Silver eyes turned to his and he waited on bated breath for her decision.

"Don't leave me alone for one second," Graces stipulated before walking forward.

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Hermione tried to keep close as they walked towards the theatre. Neville was trying to explain to Graces how a movie worked, but the blonde was clearly beyond understanding. She asked a few times why not just see a play if it's like a play. And when Neville kept insisting it was a better than a play she would scowl and mutter about how she didn't believe pictures could be better than a live performance.

"You'll see why," Neville promised, not losing his grin. "You are going to love it."

"So you've said."

Neville didn't seem to mind or notice Graces' mood as they came up to the queue to buy tickets, but Hermione was definitely noticing his. Hermione had never seen Neville quite like this. She watched as he talked and talked, not seeming to mind that Graces' didn't give him much of a response back. He seemed... content... happy. Hermione felt a pain of guilt for not knowing what Neville was like when he was happy. She realized now that she had never truly seen Neville blissfully happy.

"I, uh, decided on a romantic comedy," Neville said nervously, clearly having some second thoughts as they neared the front. Graces looked up at him, patiently waiting for him to explain. "There are multiple picture shows to see and, well, I thought romantic comedy would be good. I mean, most girls like romantic comedies and I just thought since you're a girl and—"

"Glad we've established that," Graces scoffed, staring up at Neville and not bothering to hide her amusement at his fluster. Neville blushed and opened his mouth to apologize, but Graces just snorted and waved away his attempt. "I am sure you've chosen well," she dismissed, going back to looking at the posters around them. "If you didn't I will inform you."

"Oh you will, will you?"

Graces smiled predatorily up at him.

"I will. When you ask for a second date I shall decline."

"Ah, so no pressure then."

Graces didn't answer. She just went back to taking in all that was around her. Neville seemed inclined to continue pestering her on the subject but was soon called up front. Graces followed while Neville purchased the tickets and he had to clear his throat to break her attention away from the computer the ticket seller was using so they could enter.

Hermione watched Graces take everything in. She seemed intrigued with every noise and source of light around her. She looked like a muggleborn in Diagon Alley. Hermione wished she could move closer. She couldn't hear any of the conversation between the two of them. She knew Graces was asking questions. She would see something—a light, an arcade room, a pager—and ever so slightly turn and whisper something in Neville's ear and it was obviously a question judging on the way Neville looked when replying.

He was so gentle with her. He watched her move around the lobby with such adoration it was impossible to deny his love for her. He kept a step back from her as she explored and his eyes only left her to check that no one was getting too near. Hermione noted the way Neville seemed to track anyone around them that appeared more rough around the edges and also the way his jaw stiffened at the site of a few other boys their age looking over at the pretty blonde admiring the lighted ceiling.

"Would you like to get some sweets before the showing?" Neville asked, checking his watch for the time.

"Muggle sweets?"

"They wouldn't have any other kind here." Graces' mouth twisted in thought. "They have chocolate," Neville added, smiling knowingly.

Hermione couldn't move into the line with them, but she stayed outside the rope by their side. Neville was telling her about every single sweet and what they were similar to in their world, while Graces thought over what she wanted. Neville smiled at her indecision and moved closer taking her hand in his for a brief moment before the blonde yanked it away.

"Oh Mer—I'm so sorry," Graces gasped bringing her hand to her mouth in embarrassment. "I—you caught me off guard and—"

"It's fine," Neville dismissed, his cheek burning red. Hermione watched as his eyes drifted to the strangers around them obviously humiliated to be shot down in front of an audience.

"Neville, no I—"

"Looks like we're up," Neville cut off, hurrying towards the counter to get away from the conversation he obviously didn't want to have. Graces after a moment's hesitation followed. Loaded with an arm full of popcorn and an assortment of candy the two of them walked over towards the cinema where the movie was playing. Hermione watched as Graces chewed her bottom lip and kept looking up at Neville staring straight ahead beside her.

"It was just a reaction," she whispered. "It truly was. I-I'm so used to being at Hogwarts and only having private moments with you. Being out in public is just—"

"It's really fine," Neville insisted, giving her a small smile and shrugging.

"I embarrassed you."

Neville laughed. "I am very used to you publicly humiliating me, Malfoy."

By the time they reached their seats Neville was still in good humor and so much so that he didn't even seem to mind when Graces complained, rather loudly, about the disgusting floors and seats.

"They're not even that dirty," Neville chuckled, taking his own seat.

"It's revolting," the blonde deadpanned, moving her feet slowly. "My feet are sticking to the floor, Longbottom. To the floor," she emphasized. "The last time my feet were stuck to a floor was because of a charm."

Neville shushed her and looked around at the slowing growing crowd of moviegoers, the movie wasn't set to start for another 15 minutes, but there were still many arrivals coming.

"Graces, you can't talk about that stuff here."

Graces just rolled her eyes and again brought up the problem of the sticky floors.

"If the floors are like this what will the chairs be like?"

Neville took a deep breath, that Hermione gathered was for patience, and stood from where he was seated to move his coat so that it covered the chair next to him.

"Better?"

"Much."

A couple sitting a few rows away seemed a bit amused by Graces' priss attitude and much to Neville's dislike the blonde gave them her ever famous Malfoy glare until they both looked away.

"Be nice," Neville scolded.

"That was me being nice. I said nothing scathing and I didn't hex them."

"Graces." Neville's tone was soft, but warning and Hermione wasn't at all surprised that the blonde just rolled her eyes before starting to look around.

"Is this the picture?"

"No these are just ads for the concession stand and restaurants. Some movie trivia will pop up once in awhile."

"What's the show about?"

"It's called Evita. It's about an Argentine president's wife. I don't know that much about it, honestly," Neville admitted, smiling shyly. "It came out last year. You will like it. Apparently the theatre is doing this special, since it's Valentine's Day weekend, and they are showing older movies and movies that came out last year that were really popular. Usually the theatre's only show new movies."

"Why?"

"Because new movies come out very often."

"What if you want to see an older one? Do you have to wait for a theater to show it again?"

"No, you can buy the older one after it leaves theatres."

Graces eyes widened. "Muggles have these in their homes?"

Neville frowned for a moment before he realized Graces was referring to the big screen in front of them.

"Oh, no no. They have smaller versions of that screen." Neville explained what a television was to Graces, but Hermione could see that the idea was over her head.

Soon the lights dimmed.

"Do you know who that woman is?" Neville whispered softly.

Graces frowned and shook her head.

"That, Graces Malfoy, is Madonna. Your idol," he added flatly.

Graces eyes widened and Neville smiled quietly as the blonde looked back up at the screen like a child seeing Hogwarts for the first time.

She had so many questions. Within the first few minutes of the movie, Neville was bombarded with questions about who the other actors were. How they captured the film the way they did. How was it possible for them to make plays better than them? Did they have to travel to make these pictures? How long did it take? Were the actors paid less because they really only acted once?

A woman in front shushed her before Neville could answer. Graces made some noise of indignation and made a move towards where Neville knew her wand to be, but before she could do anything out of anger Neville forcefully grabbed her arm and leaned her back. Apologizing to the woman in front.

"It is impolite to talk in movies," he whispered. "And hexing a muggle is a good way to be found out as a witch."

Graces' jaw tightened and a few moments later the person's drink spilled all over their lap causing the woman to curse loudly, giving Graces the opportunity to shush her. Neville glared at the blonde, but he wasn't able to maintain his anger as Graces pouted her lips and looked down with fake contrition.

"What will I do with you, Miss Malfoy?"

Graces didn't answer, instead she took her drink and sipped it happily. She looked as though she were humming a tune she seemed so pleased with herself. Neville shook his head, amused. Slowly they slipped into what looked so normal. Graces moved closer to where Neville was seated, never taking her eyes off the screen.

And Neville didn't take his eyes off her. He watched her from the corner of his eye like she watched the people on the screen, captivated by her. He took his attention away only to see what had her laughing or what was making her lean closer. Anytime Madonna was singing she looked as though she were close to jumping up and down in her chair and he glowed with affection for her.

Hermione could tell he wanted to take her hand again. Every once in awhile he would fidget in his seat and move his hand slightly towards her and then think better of it. He did this for most of the movie before making a face of annoyance with himself and just reaching out and taking the blonde's hand. Graces jumped slightly but didn't yank her hand away. She sat there for a few moments adjusting to the feel, looking at the people around her and then ever so delicately she took her hand away.

Neville didn't show any obvious disappointment on his face, but it was there, belied by the way his body seemed to tense and the fact that now his eyes were glued to the screen ahead. Hermione wasn't surprised by Graces taking her hand away, but she was surprised when Graces moved the arm rest separating them and tucked herself against Neville's side so that his arm draped over her. Neville seemed a bit stunned at first, as did Graces, apparently not quite believing herself to be so daring, but as the time passed the two seemed to settle and then it looked as though they were used to the close contact. As though it was natural for Graces Malfoy and Neville Longbottom to cuddle in a dark movie theatre.

Hermione slipped out of the theatre before the movie ended, not wanting to be bumped by the people standing to leave. She waited a distance away from the door until the two of them emerged hand in hand.

"Can we watch another?" Graces asked excitedly, already skipping to be in line for tickets and dragging Neville along with her.

"Another?"

"Yes! I want to see all of them!"

"All of them!" Neville exclaimed. "Graces, we don't have time in one day for all of them."

"Oh," Graces sighed, still standing in line. "Then most of them."

"You know, I had other plans for the day. Not just the movies," Neville persisted, moving backwards and trying to coax her from the line. "I made reservations at a restaurant for brunch. A nice one," Neville added. " A really nice one."

"I go to elegant breakfasts, brunches, lunches and dinners all the time," Graces smiled. "I never get to see this. Please." Neville looked to the sky and tried to look scolding, but he was very poor at it. He couldn't keep from smiling and the next thing he knew he was handing the woman at the register some money and receiving movie tickets.

"Only one more," Neville stipulated. "I can't live off sweets and popcorn. I do need some semblance of a proper lunch, even if it is a late one, and we are not missing the other things I have planned for the day."

"What plans?" Graces asked, chewing on a piece of licorice idly.

" _Plans_ ," Neville repeated, guiding Graces into the theatre to watch their next movie "The English Patient".

"My Hungarian is rusty, is this all going to be in Hungarian?"

"You speak Hungarian?"

"I speak many languages," Graces shrugged. Neville scowled and looked like he wanted to ask her a few questions, but Graces just giggled and pointed to the screen.

"What are those?" Graces gasped, staring at the screen as shots were fired at the plane.

"Guns," Neville whispered.

"They-they take down planes?"

"They can." Graces turned to him, her eyes still begging for an answer. "They're weapons... It's- it's like an odd wand that that only is used to do a killing curse, only you don't die instantly. It has to hit you just right."

Graces seemed a bit unsettled by Neville's explanation, but continued to watch.

"What-what are those?"

"That's a bomb."

"How does it work?"

"You are very close to being shushed again, Miss Malfoy."

Graces stuck out her tongue in a very un-Malfoy-ish fashion and grinned. She obviously didn't enjoy this movie as much as the first. Hermione could tell she was confused by some of the plot, uncomfortable with the nude sexual scenes and disapproving of the love affair between a married woman and the main character.

"You're very bashful with nudity," Neville teased, exiting the theatre and taking Graces deeper into the town.

"I've only seen women and men nude like that in art... Certainly not live and ...intimate. _You're_ not bashful enough," Graces challenged, something in her eyes sparking. "Viewed many naked women, Longbottom? Have a few magazines?"

Neville pinked, but didn't answer either of Graces' questions.

"That's a bit of a private question don't you think?"

"Ah, so you do," Graces said, something biting in her tone.

"No."

"So you don't."

Neville seemed incredibly uncomfortable and he kept rubbing the back of his neck as he looked for the answers in the pavement

"I-I did," Neville began slowly, his neck almost purple, as his brown eyes shifted to her as they walked. "But, um, I did away with them in September."

The ends of Graces' mouth flicked, but she didn't ask what happened in September. She did however take Neville's hand in hers as they continued to stroll down the streets.

"Where are we going? Is it still a surprise?"

"Not that much of a surprise," Neville chuckled. "I was going to take you to a nice brunch, but since you were insistent on a movie I am now just taking you to a pub I like. The other place requires a reservation since it's Valentine's Day weekend."

"A pub you like?" Neville nodded. "You know this area well enough to have a pub you like?"

Neville gave her a mysterious grin.

"Is this the town you grew up in?"

"No."

"Then how do you know the pub?"

"My gran likes movies. Thus I knew the theatre. My grandfather enjoyed this pub. Thus I know the pub."

"You all would come do these things together?"

"Yes, my gran and I still do come here. My Uncle Algie joins as well. What?"

"Nothing."

Neville raised a questioning brow at Graces. "Did you think my childhood was all tragedy?"

"No, of course not. You just don't discuss it much with me."

"I don't talk about much of anything very much," Neville pointed out. "It's odd for me to talk about myself."

"I wonder why that is."

Neville shrugged. "I'm quiet by nature, I suppose."

"Or maybe it's because you were made to go to a muggle primary school where you couldn't really talk about yourself."

"Aw, I was wondering when you were going to turn that tid bit of information against me."

"I'm not using anything against you. I'm just saying it may have had an effect."

"Maybe it did." Neville shrugged, opening the door to the pub. "But I don't believe it was a negative one. And if there was negative effects to it, I believe the positive outweigh them." The two of them were ushered over to a quiet corner booth. Graces became quiet in front of the waitress, leaving Neville to order them their drinks as well as their food.

"Do you like fish and chips?"

"You're ordering our food with the drinks?" Graces asked, clearly offended at the idea. "Right away. Without taking time to look at the menu or just enjoy the drinks?"

"I'm starved, so yeah. Back to the question do you like fish and chips?" Graces shrugged unsurely. Neville frowned curiously at her indecisiveness and ordered two stouts and two orders of fish and chips.

"You don't know if you like fish and chips?" Neville asked incredulously when the waitress was out of ear range.

"No," Graces confirmed. "I was always told it's a pauper's meal."

"A pauper's meal," Neville repeated, a bit disbelieving. "Really?" Graces gave a small nod and Hermione was surprised at how well Neville was taking the slight. "And, uh, you and Draco never ordered it at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Why would we? Hogwarts feeds us three elaborate meals a day."

Neville let out a small snort of laughter. "I suppose you have a point."

Neville thanked the waitress for the beers and again they were alone.

"You've had beer before correct?"

"Not really," Graces admitted. "A few butter beers here and there at cheap parties, but for the most part wine and hard liquor."

"I take it your parents would say beer is for paupers too, eh?"

Graces bit her lower lip for a moment, before delicately stating that she didn't want to offend him.

"I'm not offended," Neville insisted, taking a long sip of his beer.

Graces hesitated. "I don't think you're a pauper."

"Try your beer, Malfoy," Neville dismissed, shaking his head in affectionate exasperation.

Graces seemed pleased she wasn't in trouble for her callous words and reached for her drink.

"That's lovely."

Graces looked up at their server who was passing by. "Are they real?"

Hermione looked at the blonde's wrist to the bracelet of flowers she was wearing. She herself hadn't even noticed it until now. Graces was wearing an assortment of gold bangles around it to accent her dress and they seemed to overlap it, but how with her hand raised clutching her beer the small bracelet of flowers showed very brightly. Neville seemed to just be noticing it's appearance as well.

"They are."

"It's lovely."

"Thank you."

The waitress looked like she wanted to ask a bit more questions about the bracelet, but Graces' cold politeness seemed to deter her.

"I didn't notice you were wearing that," Neville flushed.

"I like it. And I've never had the opportunity to show it off before. So I decided to use the occasion, same with this piece," Graces added, gesturing to the pendent floating on the long chain, before taking her first sip of the stout Neville ordered her.

"That's a lovely face," Neville snorted, doing his best not to laugh.

"This is horrid."

"As my Uncle Algie said when I had my first pint, 'keep sipping, it'll grow on you.'"

Graces seemed skeptical, but she continued to sip until the food arrived and then when the food arrived her skepticism went to the fried feast in front of her.

"It smells good."

"It is good. Try it. Oh! And put some of this on the chips," Neville suggested, pushing the malt vinegar towards her. Graces took a tentative bite and made some noise of approval.

"That's delicious!"

"Paupers know how to eat," Neville grinned.

They sat quietly for a few moments, Neville finally getting some proper food in his stomach, all the while not noticing Graces' eyes on him.

"What were the positive aspects of going to a muggle school?"

Neville paused in his eating and looked up at Graces thoughtfully.

"Muggles aren't... foreign to me. I mean... they're different, but then they're not. They're just... people. People who feel the same way you and I feel," Neville finished quietly.

Graces didn't seem to have a reply to Neville's statement and quietly let the subject drop. Hermione hoped Neville would continue to talk to her, but the sandy-haired boy she had known for so many years just smiled contently and sipped his beer.

"So tell me, Longbottom, I know the garden story of why you fell in love with plants, but what continues to keep you intrigued."

Neville chuckled and popped another chip into his mouth as he mulled over his thoughts. "I-I don't know. It's—I guess I find plants fascinating."

"Go on," Graces pressed, taking a sip of her drink and eyeing Neville over the brim.

"Okay, look at it this way," the Gryffindor continued, leaning over the table slightly, his eyes alive with excitement. "You eat a plant and something bad happens. Poison. You eat a plant and something good happens. Medicinal. You eat a plant and nothing happens. Salad."

Graces leaned back in her seat and laughed.

"I've never heard anyone explain it like that before."

"I'm correct though."

"You are."

"Plants are fascinating," Neville repeated, raising his glass and then taking a sip.

"I'm sure they are," Graces placated, a challenging look in her eyes. "Please continue."

Neville raised an eyebrow. "You do not want me to talk about plants."

"I do," Graces grinned. "Come, Professor Longbottom, teach me something."

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me—" Graces paused and then smiled wickedly. "—tell me about dangerous plants."

Neville seemed hesitant at first, but after a few moments he started talking. He told her about Dendrocnide Moroides, a plant that caused severe pain if you so much as touched it. A plant that causes you to temporarily go mad. A plant that could cause cardiac arrest. A plant that smelled of corpses. A tree that when touched would burn you. On and on he went. He got so excited about one plant that he gestured out and spilled his pint over the table, causing the liquid to cascade down the edge. Neville flushed and apologized to the waitress as she went to get a rag, but Graces waved at him to continue. Hesitantly Neville began again and after a few moments he was continuing on with the same enthusiasm. And Graces was hanging on every word, never once getting a glazed expression, always having questions for Neville to answer.

They left the pub hand in hand, Graces staring up at him with amused affection as they walked through the muggle streets. Hermione trailed behind, aware that no one in their house had ever listened to Neville this intently, nor had she ever seen him speak so much at one time. She couldn't help but wonder, though, was Graces actually interested or was she playing a part? Being what she thought Neville needed for some alternative motive. She wanted to bury her doubts and believe that Graces really did care for him, but so many things didn't make sense. What she said those few months ago, the way the blonde seemed to enjoy having Neville wrapped tightly around her finger, the fact that she could be so fascinated by plants.

"The problem with giant hogweed lies in the furanocoumarin, a phototoxic compound in the sap that can transfer when a person touches the plant. It gets into the nucleus of a person's skin cells and bonds straight with the DNA, which—"

Neville was silenced by Graces soundly pressing her lips against his. The blonde stood on her tip toes, wrapping her arms about his neck while people walked passed.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Okay, no more plant talk" Neville breathed, already missing Graces' lips as she moved away.

Graces laughed at his self deprecation and smacked his arm playfully.

"I like it when you talk about plants."

"So you say."

"I do... You're very sexy when you talk about plants."

"I believe you've said that before," Neville chuckled, enjoying the feel of Graces hand clasped in his and hoping his hands weren't as clammy as he thought they were.

"So, should we go back now?" Graces asked. Neville was suddenly very hot. He looked down at Graces giving him her bedroom eyes and suddenly wanted to throw the rest of the day away, portkey back to their room and spend the rest of the day under the covers.

"I, uh, there's more."

"More?" Graces exclaimed, still keeping her arms around his neck. "What else are we doing?"

"I'm taking you to a play."

"A play?" Graces frowned. "I'm not dressed for a play. I mean—this is very nice," Graces back tracked. "Truly a lovely dress, even if it is muggle, but it's not formal enough for a play."

"Well. I didn't get us tickets to a nice theatre. It's a smaller one, run by people who like to act. They're not professional actors. It's a thespian society and—"

"It's a school play?"

"Sort of, only the people aren't in school. They're older. Thus, you're dressed fine."

Neville suddenly felt very self-conscious in his decision.

"They're doing Hamlet," he explained, walking forward as Graces untangled herself from him. "I thought Hamlet was fitting."

It took her a moment, but soon a small smile appeared. He had wondered if she would remember giving him the copy of Hamlet disguised as a beginner's potions book, or if he saw more in that act than she did.

"You're such a sap, Longbottom," she proclaimed, her laugh breathy and light as she shook her head. "Such a sap."

"You know what else I am?"

"A blood traitor?"

Neville narrowed his eyes at the blonde. "I was going to say your valentine, but I suppose I am both."

Graces murmured something about ridiculous, foolish, sentimental Gryffindors, but Neville could tell that she was touched. Today was as special to her as it was to him. She had curled her hair, done her eye make-up (which he hadn't seen her do in months), even worn a different perfume that had his skin crawling to hold her close.

"You're staring, Longbottom."

"Sorry," Neville apologized, not really feeling at all contrite. He was too busy noticing the way her hair flew in the breeze. "You know, sometimes, I still don't know what you're doing with me."

Graces was quiet for a few moments, she stared down at the pavement and around at her surroundings. "Sometimes I think the same thing."

"No you don't," Neville scoffed. "You're pretty, talented, bright, sharp, educated well beyond what is taught in Hogwarts, cultured—"

"And a lot of trouble," Graces cut in. "Spoiled, quick to anger, slow to forgive... and spiteful."

Graces brushed her hair behind her ears and stared at him. "I have none of your good nature, Neville. None."

"That's not true, I've seen you do many good deeds."

"All of which benefited me or those I hold dear."

"You had that wing made for my parents."

"I had that wing made for you," Graces pointed out, moving closer to Neville so she could hold his arm as they walked hand in hand. "I hold you dear."

Neville didn't know what to say, and he honestly didn't want to say anything anyways. He wanted to hold on to this moment forever. He wanted to bottle it and carry it around with him for the rest of his life. He didn't care that this couldn't continue once they got back to the grounds, he had it now.

She loved the play. The small company put on a splendid show and Graces was even impressed enough to want to stay after and mingle with the actors and actresses. She said she loved their passion and was offended at how little they made. Neville had an impression that they would soon be getting a very generous anonymous donation. And the whole time they were there, she had not once let go of his hand. Even when talking to the cast, she had moved his arm around her waist.

It was silly, but he was proud. He felt like he was something grand because she was his. Like her being with him was a reflection of himself. He had a girl like Graces Malfoy, surely that meant he was something more than what he thought of himself.

"Do you think we missed dinner in the Great Hall?" Graces asked, leaning her head against his arm as they strolled hand in hand.

Neville chuckled. "No, but we will. I'm not done with you yet, Miss Malfoy."

"There's more?"

"There is. I doubt you will allow me many opportunities to take you out, so I have to get as much in as possible."

Graces smiled and moved her hand out of his and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, so she was cradled comfortably against him. "Where now?"

"It's still a surprise," Neville smiled, turning Graces down a dimly lit road that eventually lead away from the town.'

The air was crisp and refreshing despite the bite of cold. Graces wondered where they could be going so far away from the town. The road was now dirt, bumpy with rocks and potholes and the fields around them held no sign of life. The only thing guiding them seemed to be the stars glittering in the sky.

"It's beautiful out tonight," she whispered quietly.

"It is."

"Quiet too."

Neville made some noise of agreement, but Graces had a feeling he wasn't quite with her anymore.

"Everything okay?"

Neville gave her a timid smile, before stating they weren't too far now.

"Far from what?"

Neville sucked in a deep breath and before Graces understood what was happening he was giving her an address, an address that allowed her to see past the Fidelius charm on the property around her.

Graces gasped when she realized the broken road she was on was not broken and it was winding up in what appeared to be a field. She turned this way and that taking in her surroundings. The old trees around her, the candles lit along the road in small glass jars, guiding her eyes to a small cottage.

Neville remained silent as she stared at the home in front of her, but she could feel his eyes on her every move.

"Is this—is this your parents' home?"

"It is."

"And this was your parents' town," Graces breathed, unable to believe she hadn't realized this until now.

She turned and looked at the boy in front of her. She knew this was hard for him. He didn't show it; he just smiled quietly, but she knew, because she knew him. She knew he was private, that he didn't like discussing himself or his parents. Neville bringing her here was something so precious and intimate that she knew she could know him for the rest of her life and never fully appreciate how much it meant.

She leaned in and brushed her lips against his, her heart full of affection she didn't know she possessed for him. She silently moved towards the house, knowing Neville was staying behind her, watching her reaction.

It was a small cottage, nothing grand or special: one story, two windows and a light blue door. She could see the remains of the garden—not abandoned, just sleeping for winter. She wondered if Neville was the one who tended to it during the summer. The cobble steps leading up to the door obviously were wedged between rows of flowers during the beautiful seasons, and she imagined Neville was the one to keep them up. She had a feeling his gran would have difficulty bending to tend to such details. And then she stopped and remembered. Neville had never been here before. He told her months ago that he had never been here.

She didn't know what to think of that. He had never been here and the first time he chose to come it was with her.

"You've never been here before," she breathed aloud, her hands trembling slightly.

"I came here a few days ago," Neville said, his voice giving her no indication of how that trip made him feel.

When she reached the house she stood in the doorway, her feet weighted down with nervousness. The couches were not covered, the pictures sitting on the mantle were dustless and the only way you would know that the house was not lived in was the stale scent of air surrounding them.

It was then that she realized, among the stale air and false warmth, that this cozy home was just an illusion. Maybe once long ago this was a home, a home filled with love and laughter, but now... now it was a tomb. She took a step back, spooked at the idea.

"It's just a house," Neville whispered quietly, his arms coming to her shoulders to steady her.

"It's the way they left it, isn't it?"

He was standing so close she could feel the deep breath he took before answering her.

"It is, aside from some photos. She updates the photos as I grow."

Neville didn't need to tell her who "she" was. Graces fought the tears prickling in her eyes. It was one thing to know about a mother's grief at losing their child, it was another to be this close to the pain. Augusta Longbottom's pain was so beautifully displayed in front of her that she needed a moment to gather herself before entering the threshold.

"This isn't a house," Graces whispered, moving her hands closer to her. "It's your grandmother's prayer."

She looked back at Neville leaning against a wall, surveying the living room.

"Some prayers are never answered."

"They're answered," Graces said tightly, remembering her own mother's words. "Always answered. Sometimes yes. Sometimes "wait" and sometimes no. Prayers aren't wishes to be fulfilled," she quoted somberly.

"They might as well be," Neville murmured bitterly.

"The gods have reasonings for their choosing."

Graces didn't miss the unconvinced nod or the disbelieving look in Neville's eyes as he continued to survey the room.

"I wish people appreciated what was in front of them, what they knew to be real and true, beauty that's everyday and feeding their souls. People don't stop to notice all the details of a forest, they just appreciate the green. They don't know what plant is creating that refreshing smell, what the soil beneath their feet accomplished. They only notice the mighty oak. Why do we need more than what's in front of us?"

Graces moved forward and placed her hand on the other boys chest, feeling his heart beating against her palm.

"Does it hurt very much?" she asked, quietly, moving her silver eyes to his.

"It doesn't hurt at all."

"I don't believe that. I believe it hurts so badly you bury it deep inside to the point it feels like hot iron against your heart, and after so long feeling it the pain just turns to anger." Neville looked down at her stone-faced. "That's why we can't ever talk about it without you becoming angry."

"Am I getting angry?" Neville asked timidly, moving his hand to hers over his chest.

"You are."

"I'm sorry."

"There's no need," Graces comforted, leaning her head against his chest. "You can feel whatever you need to feel with me, Neville. If you want to be angry, be angry. If you need to be sad, be sad. I'm here either way. Gods above and below know you have weathered my fury and tears."

Neville stared at her for a moment before leaning down and kissing her. He still kept her hand in his, pressed to his heart and they stayed in that moment for a little while longer.

"This is the most you can do, isn't it?" she whispered, realizing that what Neville had told her that night under the stars was the most she would probably ever hear from him. That he had taken her here, because he wanted to share with her what his mouth wouldn't allow him to.

"Is that okay?" Neville asked somberly.

"Of course it's okay," she said softly, moving her hands so they cupped his face. So long ago he had promised to divulge more about himself, he had promised it back in the bar and then he tried to talk to her about his parents and he couldn't. And now she was here. "You always keep your promises, don't you?"

"I try to."

"I don't need you to actually speak about it," Graces whispered, embracing him the way she suspected he needed to be embraced. "Words are just noise anyways."

Neville pulled away and looked at her, his eyes bright as he remembered who said those words first and on what occasion. Something about the moment seemed to change and Graces found herself looking away, scared of what she saw in Neville's eyes, of what she was feeling in her heart.

"Feel free to look around," Neville murmured, pulling away and kissing her hand affectionately. "Everything is technically mine anyways, so don't be shy. I'll be in the kitchen."

She nodded and went away, looking back to see Neville disappear from the living area. She took her time, allowing for him to have some privacy and allowing herself to really take in what was around her.

She could hear Neville knocking things around in the kitchen as she moved about the three rooms. At first she felt as though she was disturbing something sacred, but after a while it wasn't as intimidating. She suspected Neville cursing every once in awhile aided in that transition.

It was still sad, though. She looked at these walls covered with pictures of Neville growing up and they felt so empty. None of these happy memories took place in this home like they were supposed to. The bedroom that was designed for Neville wasn't really his. He didn't wake up in that bed Christmas morning or run down these halls as a toddler. There were no markings on the floors that came from a home being lived in. It was a home that could have held all the warmth and love of a family, but was deprived of its opportunity.

At the end of her tour she found herself back in Alice and Frank's bedroom. Their nightstands were ordinary, covered with books and parchment. Frank apparently kept parchment and a quill nearby in case something came to him about a case, and Alice had a stack of books by her bed, mostly romance with a few crime mixed in. Graces opened one of the books to where she had left off. Four chapters from the ending.

Graces placed the book down gently with the same thought echoing in her head. They could have had such quiet, simple lives and they gave it up. _They gave him up_ , she thought sadly, picking up an old picture of Neville and walking to the kitchen.

"You were a cute little one," she teased, holding the photo of Neville at age four or five. "You look amused here."

"My grandfather probably played some sort of prank on my uncle or gran, or maybe my uncle and grandfather played a prank on my gran together. Who knows. I always enjoyed their games," Neville laughed, taking the picture and looking at it.

"Is this your grandfather?" Graces asked, pointing to a photo outside in the hall.

"It is," Neville smiled proudly.

"He seems like a grand fellow to be around."

"Oh, he was. He was a life-of-the-party kind of guy, very charming too, which is how he got my gran," Neville grinned. "My grandmother is a very proper witch, as I'm sure you have noticed. My grandfather saw her one night at a fancy party and he, of course, was surrounded by an assortment of people. He was very charismatic and funny, people liked him. Anyways, he saw my grandmother and he just knew she was it. He went over and introduced himself and then maybe five minutes later asked her out. My gran, my grandfather insists, was completely smitten, but her breeding wouldn't just let her say yes. So instead she reprimanded him for being forward."

"What did he say to that?"

"Great, I will pick you up at 7 tomorrow."

'Oh Merlin," Graces giggled. "Did she go on the date?"

"She did. My grandfather said she just didn't know how to say yes, so he said it for her. He got there at seven and she was ready, with her cousin of course. Like I said, she was very proper."

"But he made her laugh. Not many people can make my grandmother laugh, and he made her laugh every single day. I'm told my father was a more toned down version of him, a good mix of my grandmother and grandfather."

Graces could believe that. Her mother had told her when going over the Longbottom family that Frank Longbottom was very respected, charismatic, bright and iron willed. He could have easily gone into politics. Graces now knew why he didn't. He was too Gryffindor. He didn't think like a Slytherin: put yourself in politics to help people. He put himself on the front lines. Later he may have thought he earned a place in the Ministry, but he clearly didn't think of it for himself right away.

She looked up at Neville. He was too Gryffindor too.

"I like the cottage," Graces commented, wanting to keep her thoughts distanced from Neville's own ill-placed bravery. "It's very... cozy."

"Is that your polite way of saying small, Malfoy?"

"I said cozy, Longbottom. Don't put words in my mouth. Did your parents not plan on more children?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"Only two bedrooms, one theirs, another yours and an office."

"I don't think my father was able to afford anything else when they got married. Like I said, Longbottom tradition is you buy a house for your new bride and also I was a happy accident." Neville revealed, his cheeks reddening a bit at the confession.

"Were you? Your mother wasn't on the potion?"

"Story for another time," Neville said, moving to the stove where he was apparently cooking some sort of stew.

"You're cooking?" Graces asked, startled.

"I am. I thought it would be nice to make you dinner."

"I didn't know you could cook."

"I didn't have many friends growing up and most of the time I played with our house elves. When you grow up playing with house elves you learn to cook. This is apparently good fun in their books."

"Are you good at cooking?"

"No," Neville laughed. "I'm very poor at it usually. I always forget ingredients, or how much time is left. BUT I am very good at making this stew. I think it's cause it's mostly veggies and herbs. Both things I take pride in growing myself."

Graces leaned against the counter and watched as Neville stirred in some of the herbs he was just boasting about.

"Is stew a pauper's dish?" Neville asked, his eyes looking over to her from the side.

"Don't be an ass, Longbottom. I believe we are having a grand time."

"Is this the best date you've ever been on?"

"Time will tell," Graces replied cheekily, leaning against the counter.

Neville spooned a healthy portion of stew into two bowls and repeated her words with a pitch she was certain he thought matched her own. Graces giggled at his antics and was delighted that Neville winked at her, before proclaiming dinner was served.

The stew was surprisingly rich in flavor and Graces did not do a good job at hiding her surprise at the delicious taste and she flushed as Neville clearly noticed.

"I had help," Neville explained, reading her mind. "I asked one of our house elves to get this started for me."

"Did they ask what for?" Graces tried to keep her voice steady and off handed, but Neville saw straight through it.

"Strict orders were given to say absolutely nothing, but I did confess it was for a date."

Graces took another mouthful of stew and thought about how she felt on that matter.

"He was pretty happy for me," Neville said quietly. "Fennel. That's who I told."

"He's happy because your family needs an heir," Graces reminded flatly. "He doesn't realize you will get no heir from me."

"I don't think he feels that way." Neville chuckled. "He asked if I was seeing a wizard."

Graces almost dropped her spoon. "He did not."

"Yeah, apparently there is some question on my preference."

"I wonder why that is."

"I probably shouldn't have talked so much about Harry my first, second, third and fourth year." Neville laughed, clearly not bothered by what the elves thought.

Graces snorted. "My, my, what do people think of my brother then? I guarantee he spoke more about Harry than you. We once made a drinking game of it, me and some of the other Slytherins. That was not a good night." Graces cringed, still remembering how sick she had made herself.

They shared a good laugh before Neville excused himself for a moment. When he returned he had a very fine bottle of firewhisky in hand.

"Care for a drink?"

"Please!"

Neville poured them each a very generous glass, before he sat back down and continued eating. It was good whisky, the kind her father would have stashed in his office, not the kind of thing she ever thought she would be eating with a stew. Or that Neville would buy. Suddenly, a thought came to her.

"Is this your father's whisky?"

"Technically it's mine now. And it's such a shame to see it just sitting in a drawer. Besides, what kind of son would I be if I didn't steal my father's good whisky?"

It took Graces a moment to see the humor in Neville's words, but soon she was roaring with laughter.

"You know, you're pretty twisted, Longbottom. One minute you're this wholesome bloke, and the next you say something like that."

"I think you're just rubbing off on me," Neville grinned, taking a long sip of his drink and then laughing a little into his cup in a way that told Graces that he had found something else humorous with his words, something she was sure was inappropriate and sexual in nature.

"Don't be crude."

"I didn't say anything."

"You thought it."

"Out of my head, Malfoy," Neville ordered, smiling despite himself.

Graces bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Think about it all you like, Longbottom. That's as far as you will actually get. I don't sleep with men on the first date."

Neville paused in his drinking. "Are you telling me I went to all this work for nothing, Malfoy?"

"Afraid so," Graces sang.

"Well, then I guess this date is over. Back to the castle we go."

Graces giggled as Neville stood up from the table. Neville sent her a sheepish grin and picked up the pot of the stove. "More stew?"

"I'm fine," she said, looking around the kitchen.

"You said before you wouldn't want to live here after graduation, but it seems very appropriate for you: the style of the house, the village around it, the field. I think you could be happy here, at ease even. It seems like such a waste for it to become a—" Graces stopped short, realizing how insensitive her words were about to be.

"A tomb," Neville finished, amused. "There are other properties where I could live." He shrugged. "I think it would be inappropriate for me to live here anyways. As you can see, my grandmother keeps it very well kept _in case_."

Graces fell silent for a moment and debated whether she should ask the question on her mind.

"Is there really no hope?" she asked with a sinking feeling.

"None."

"Even- even with the new healer... and new surroundings?" Graces pressed timidly, knowing she was already treading on thin ice with this conversation.

"Even with," Neville confirmed, reaching over and taking her hand, as though she were the one who needed comfort.

"How do you know, though? I mean, maybe—"

"Graces." His voice was so gentle. So sympathetic and understanding and yet it carried a weight she herself was unsure was bearable. "I know."

Neville took a deep breath and drained the drink by his side and poured himself another.

"I was told, recently, by the amazing healer your money allowed St. Mungo's to obtain, that there was no hope. We've always been told this... but the new healer was more—" Neville searched for a word. "—detailed," he settled cautiously. "In her words, there is no hope. We can only make my mother comfortable."

"And your father?"

"His comfort has already come. He's already dead. My gran just insists on keeping his body alive."

Graces swallowed uncomfortably, before apologizing meekly.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Neville insisted, brushing away her words and feigning disinterest.

Graces tried to imagine what it was like for Frank Longbottom. She wanted to ask Neville more, but she also didn't want to ruin such a beautiful night.

"I'll let you know when I've had enough."

She looked up to see Neville leaning in his chair, the glass of whisky being held between his hands.

"I meant what I said. This is enough, there is no need to open your wounds."

"And yet I can see a million questions on your face."

"I just want to understand."

"Understand how I feel?"

"No, I don't believe even you understand all that you feel. I just want to understand what happened. You said there was no hope, but I don't have any good idea of what is wrong with them."

Neville sat quietly for a few moments. Graces wondered if he was thinking about how to not answer her. In the back of her mind she knew that this topic should be left to die. It would be better for her and possibly even Neville to just pretend that his parents were dead and go about their lives, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. She felt as though this was something so important in Neville's life and she wanted to know about it.

"My father is only living because we keep him living," Neville said quietly, his gentle voice breaking the silence around them. "He just lies there. He doesn't feed himself or anything. He is kept alive because my grandmother—well, no, I suppose it isn't fair now to allow her all of that blame. I am his son. I could choose to stop this. He is alive because we have requested he be kept that way." Graces stared up at Neville sadly and he read the question in her eyes. "I don't think he would have wanted that, but it's a comfort for my grandmother to not place her only child in the ground. He's not there. His soul, I imagine, has long left his body. If his body is just a shell, then what's the harm in allowing my poor grandmother some peace and comfort? If I was in that state and it gave someone peace to have me around I would be fine with that."

"You don't think it would be best to put him to rest and force her to face the truth?"

Neville was silent for a few moments. "Do you remember when Harry brought Cedric's body back?" Graces nodded. "When I think about ending my father's life I remember Cedric's father screaming 'My boy. My boy. Not my boy.' again and again, holding Cedric's lifeless body and sobbing. I remember his mother being too beyond grief for tears and then at his funeral just breaking."

"You went to his funeral?"

"Yeah. His father was tearful the whole time and his mother was just... I don't know. It was like she knew what was happening but it hadn't hit her yet. Then when they began lowering the casket in the ground she just snapped. She was on her feet trying to stop them, hysterical. Cedric's dad got up and held her and she just dropped to her knees weeping, clinging to him like if he let her go she would die too."

Neville raised his eyes and met hers. "I couldn't do that to my gran."

Suddenly Graces felt like the stew she ate was rocks in her stomach.

"My mother—" Neville continued with a deep sigh "—is like a child, a very dangerous child."

"What do you mean?"

"She is a child in mind, but in power, in strength, she's still a full grown witch who was trained as an auror and is traumatized to the point where she doesn't know her own name."

Graces was silent for a moment, before asking quietly. "Did she ever hurt you?"

"Yes."

"Did she realize what she did?"

"No."

"Did she hurt you badly?"

Neville suffered himself to answer. "In my heart more than my body."

"How?"

She had gone one question too much and she could see it. Neville examined his glass for a moment before downing its contents.

"I was very young and I suppose she was intrigued with my face. I believe I've mentioned that before, she would like to examine me. Anyways, my gran had left us for a moment to speak to a healer and she was just playing with my hair, touching my lips, things of that nature, while I played with some toy or another on the ground. I don't remember why, but for the first time I was growing irritated with her. I didn't want her to play with my hair anymore, so whipped my face away. When she kept touching me I was defiant and pushed her hands away. When she still continued I shouted at her to stop and shoved her." Neville sat in his memories. "She struck me. Clear across the face. I had never once been hit before that and obviously I cried. Cried loudly. Which bothered her, because then the next thing I knew she was covering my mouth with her hands trying to silence me. I remember her nails digging into my skin and not being able to breathe. And then I remember waking up in a healer's arms and shouting continuing down a hall. She had never really hurt me before that... maybe pulled my hair too much or was a little too rough, but that was... different. She would have killed me and never known what she had done," Neville finished sadly. "She had had episodes with me before. I believe I told you about that when we were star gazing, but usually she would end up harming herself, not me."

Graces could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the color in her face had long drained away.

"What did your gran do?"

Neville took another sip of his drink. "She cried. She cried and held me and promised that my mother didn't mean it."

"It was the moment I realized that my mother didn't love me. She didn't even know I was her son."

Silence stretched from expected to uncomfortable and she turned away quickly as Neville embarrassedly rubbed at his eyes. Silently, she poured him another drink and pushed the glass across the table. Neville took a bracing breath before downing the drink in one motion.

"I really am a sap, aren't I," he said with a brittle laugh.

"It's been months of me telling you this and you just now are realizing?" she replied, tossing Neville a grin across the table. Neville's lips twitched, but didn't rise at her banter. She wanted to go to him, but her body felt weighted to the chair. Her throat was growing more raw by the second and no amount of drink could save her from the discomfort.

"My gran—" Neville began with measured words, "—and my grandfather took me out for the day after. We went to the theatre I took you to earlier, my gran held me on her lap the whole time and was nothing but affectionate, and later we met my uncle in the same pub. It was like they thought if they made the rest of the day wonderful and special I would forget that my mother almost killed me."

"Did you understand it at the time?"

"I understood enough of it. And I understood that my grandparents wanted to make me feel better and that my grandmother didn't want to answer my questions about it."

Graces bit her lip and fiddled with the rim of her glass. "When-when you found out fourth year that Moody wasn't Moody, but Barty Crouch Jr., how did you feel?"

She could feel Neville's weighty stare on her, but it took a solid minute before she could bring herself to look up from the amber liquid.

Neville stiffened and said in almost a whisper. "No one's ever asked me that."

"You took a liking to him," Graces murmured. "I always wondered how you felt when you discovered who he was."

Neville cleared his throat with practiced decorum after he had thought for a moment. "Angry, betrayed... sick... stupid." He fell silent again and she could see the battle he was fighting within himself not to cry. "Violated."

"Violated?"

"He knew what he was doing when he tortured that spider in front of me. He-he took me to his office and talked to me about my parents. He talked to me like he knew them, like he cared, made me feel safe. He made me feel safe enough to talk about—" Neville stopped short and he didn't need to tell her that he had enough, she knew and before the first tear could fall she had him in her arms and didn't flinch when he yanked her down on his lap and buried his face in side of her neck.

No other tears came though. His breath was heavy and fast on her skin, making it clammy and hot, but she didn't move away. She traced lace patterns in his hair and said nothing. She was there and she had a feeling that was all Neville wanted, so she held him and did nothing but be there until his breathing regulated and his grip on her eased.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, still hiding in her neck and hair. "I wanted tonight to be—"

"It is," she promised, kissing him gently and allowing her hands to wander along his neck. "It is."

He was looking at her again in that way that scared her and excited her all at once. Her breath caught as his fingers traced up her arms to her collar.

"Can we go back now?" he asked, his voice soft and tired. Graces nodded and laid against Neville's chest as he took of his watch. "We should stand. I think if we portkey back sitting we will be very sorry."

"Will you carry me?" she asked, not willing to give up Neville's arms around her. She was sure she heard Neville say something about spoiled and Malfoy under his breath, but his protests weren't sincere, so she kept her eyes closed and enjoyed his chest against her cheek.

"You still need to touch the watch," he whispered, keeping the quiet as she closed her eyes. She smiled and did as instructed. In the back of her mind she realized that Neville was probably going to drop her or land on her at their arrival, but she didn't care too much about it. And in the end her small worry proved for naught. He landed and barely jostled her.

She kept her eyes closed as Neville tucked her into the bed, gently removing her shoes and sliding her feet into the sheets.

"Come lay down," Graces ordered, already missing the warmth from his body. He obeyed and she moved into him, deciding silently that no one could smell as good as Neville. "I love these sheets," Graces yawned, snuggling deeper in the thick layer of blankets.

"Tell me about your home," Neville whispered, his hand playing with her leg that was thrown over his.

"The manor?"

Neville hummed an agreement.

"It's beautiful," Graces sighed. "My mother made it beautiful. It used to be dark and ominous, but my mother made it warm. My mother can do that. She has this touch. It's more than a good eye for design. She knows how to make something warm while still allowing it to be what it is."

"Like my father," Graces added helpfully. "My mother made my father into a father worthy of her children just as she made the Malfoy manor a home and not just a display of wealth."

"She changes the paintings of family members in the hall. When Draco and I were little she chose the paintings of family members that loved and adored children. When we got older she chose the ones that enjoyed grace and beauty. I remember walking down the halls from my room one morning when I was thirteen and seeing different paintings. All of different family members long gone, but these ones weren't reminding me to wear a coat to go out, or laughing at my excitement for my father being home they all just looked at me and nodded with this prideful approval. It made me feel... proud. I was proud and I remember feeling like a woman. I straightened my posture more and tilted my chin up and my mother must have known. She just knew to do that."

"My home is a window into my mother's heart. It's quiet and comforting. It's like living in your mother's love. She is all around. And the grounds—" Graces breathed. "It's like living in her spirit. Flowers and peacocks. Walking paths for thinking, swimming holes for playing, gardens of love. And the gardens must be love. I've never been in a field more romantic. It makes you ache to be kissed. I would go and read the silliest girlish books in those fields and dream of the day I would marry and fall in love."

"The grounds are my favorite part of the manor. I spent so much time on the grounds. Our mother was always taking us outside to play. And when spring came she would run around with us in the fields when we were very small, helping us pick flowers and make crowns. Oh and when it rained sometimes she would take out in one of our tents that we take to Quidditch World Cups and sit us on her lap and read to us in those fields so we could smell the flowers and earth. We would just be lazy, all cozy in the covers."

"My mother is a wonderful woman that you and the rest of the world shall never know," Graces grinned. "She only shows herself to those she loves. My father shows himself more than my mother does, and that says something."

"She's simpler than anyone I know. She just wants her family. My mother wants for nothing else. It's amazing to be loved like that, to live your life knowing you are someone's life. Draco and I are our mother's heart and soul. And my mother is... my mother is my home. The walls that surround me aren't walls really, they are my mother. The manor is my mother and my mother is home and I—I miss her greatly."

Neville reached out and brushed away her hair. "You sound like your mother."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I think so. It's- it's one of the things that draws me to you. I see how you love your brother, how you love Thomas. It's—I don't know. It keeps me up at night sometimes. I know my uncle and gran love me. They love me more than anything in this world and the next, but... they love differently than you. I don't know or really understand it. I just see you with them or just talking about them and I wish I had something like that."

Neville blushed and looked down for a moment before apologizing, clearly embarrassed of his admission. "A bit too much to drink, I suppose."

She could scarcely breathe. The shyness that came to her during such intimate moments began to creep up on her. She pushed her fear down, though, and reached out a hand to touch his face. She could smell the whisky on his breath and feel the heat of his skin climbing as his brown eyes stared at her intently. She kissed him first, gentle, but with obvious intention.

He seemed a bit surprised at first, but the surprise quickly disappeared. It felt different than it did before. Better than before, though none of his actions were changing. He trailed gentle kisses down her neck as her hands pulled his shirt loose at the waist and ran up over his chest. He shuddered under her touch and looked at her like he always did. Like he couldn't believe she wanted to touch him.

He really was still so shy and unsure, despite their growth together and she could always see that when they made love. Maybe it was the vulnerability of it all, or maybe it was that after so many months of this he still had doubts.

"Neville," she breathed, lightheaded and feverish. "Please touch me."

Neville groaned at just the thought. He had wanted to touch her all day. His mind had been wandering in fantasies of her skin and touch. He moved his hand to her leg, appreciating every curve of muscle and the smooth skin that only he was allowed to know. She kissed him harder, so passionately he was pulsating for more and her hips were so close to his that there was no way she didn't know that.

He refused to rush though. They had all night and he was going to enjoy every second of it. By the time he was at her hips she was taut with need and her breath had turned short and heated. He slid the tiny laced cloth down to her knees and teased his way back up, watching her with piqued interest as he slowly brought his hand between her legs.

Neville swore when his fingers met her and groaned as the blonde pressed him to her.

"I thought it was obvious I wanted you," Graces teased, her voice tickling his ears.

"I didn't know that much. I haven't even touched you really."

"You almost sound disappointed," Graces laughed, her lips taunting the sensitive spot below his ear.

He had had plans. He was going to satisfy her first, watch her wither and writhe as he touched her. Tease her with his fingers while he enjoyed every gasp and moan until she was trembling around him and then after he was going to have her for himself. Have her while she was still sensitive and swollen, heightening every move he made in her. Now he doubted he could bring himself to wait at all.

"Relax," she whispered, gently pushing him to lie on the bed. Confidently she moved on top of him and began unbuckling his belt. His heart pounded in his chest with ever clink of the metal and he about died as she brought her hand around him and guided him into the slippery cleft between her legs.

Graces seemed to know not to move until he adjusted to the sensation and his face flushed slightly.

"You know I always enjoy the noise you make," she whispered, lowering herself down so that he was tented in her hair. Neville raised an eyebrow extending the question. He was pretty sure he made very little to no noise. Graces seemed to be the more louder of the two. Graces giggled at his confusion. "You make this noise in your throat. It's sexy. Kind of like a grunt only lower and more airy. I like it."

Neville chuckled at the confession, thinking of the noises she made that he particularly enjoyed.

"You know I can think of a few noises I enjoy hearing from you," he grinned, lifting his hips up slightly causing Graces to bite her lower lip in that way that drove him mad with need.

She was everything to him. She truly was, he leaned up and kissed her in ways that he hoped told her that. Every touch and caress he made sure was gentle and soothing. He was at the point where he could easily get carried away and this would be nothing more than a good romp in bed, but he hated to end the date like that. So he was tender with her, tender with her to the point where he was trembling from the self control he was utilizing. He moved his hands to the buttons of her dress, slowly undoing them to reveal the porcelain skin beneath, when she stopped him after the first five.

They were both breathless and panting. Graces was holding his hand against her torso and she had become stiff as a board.

"I just want to feel pretty," she said tightly.

His heart sank at her words. "Oh, Graces, you are pretty. You're more than pretty. You are breathtaking." He kissed the base of her throat, whispering to her all the things he admired about her. Her soft skin, her hair. He brought his hand to her shoulders and slipped off the straps to her dress, careful not to let the dress fall down lower on her torso than it had to and rolled her over so she was now beneath him.

He kissed her exposed collar, reveling in how soft her skin was against his lips and groaning as she tightened around him and moaned softly. He wanted her to believe him, to know what he said was true and his kisses grew hot, hungry demanding with each passing second. He wound his hands in her hair and claimed her mouth for his own.

"I love you," he breathed, unable to hold it in when she was kissing him like that and moving her hips in that motion that made him grit his teeth. She paused, but he didn't stop. "I love you," he repeated, his breath tickling her collar. "I know you don't believe me, and I understand you don't feel the same, but please let me say it. Let me tell you it. Just for tonight," he begged, bringing his lips to hers and kissing her. "Just for this."

She stared at him for a few moments. Her face soft and unsure, not hard and disapproving like before when he had confessed his feelings. She brought her hand to his lips and tracing their shape thoughtfully. He kissed her fingers as they lingered, awakening her from her thoughts so she was meeting his eyes.

She kissed him slowly, her hands winding in his hair like his were in hers and he felt himself pulled down closer to her so close that he couldn't make out her eyes anymore. He could tell she was scared, though. He felt her body trembling beneath him and she held him closer for comfort rather than eroticism. He didn't say a word, until she breathed he could.

And so he did. He told her he loved her again and again. Not stopping in his confession until they had both finished and were collapsed on the bed in eachother's arms breathless and covered in sweat. And even then he gathered her up and swore it one last time and to his great surprise she smiled softly and didn't turn away.

He wanted to ask her if she believed him, but he didn't want to spoil the night if she answered no, so instead he just laid there content to have her in his arms.

"I wish everyday could be like this," he sighed, knowing that tomorrow they would be back to their usual display.

Graces was silent for a long time, before sitting up and staring down at him.

"What if it could be?"

Neville frowned and didn't even know what to say. Graces took a deep breath and sat more upright in the bed, pulling the blankets around her like a shield.

"Neville," she began, her voice trembling. "Do you really love me?"

He didn't even have to think before abruptly replying he did.

"You could never love another? You're sure?"

"I'm sure," he swore. "My heart is yours."

Graces breathed some sigh of relief before wiping a tear away from her eye and looking at him miserably.

"Then take the mark."

And just like that his world crashed.

"You're a pureblood," Graces continued, her words fast and urgent. Like she believed he wouldn't hear her if she didn't speak quickly. "You're a pureblood and if you took the mark my family would not object to us being together. We could be together, Neville. Not just in secret, but out in public. You could meet my family, court me properly. We could have a real future, Neville. A real one... We could even get married," she added shyly. "Start a family of our own."

She said the last part so quietly he almost didn't hear her, but the statement had him awoken from his trance so that he could actually somewhat think.

"Do... do you want a future with me?" he asked hesitantly.

Graces flushed and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know... I've never allowed myself to really think about it. I knew it wasn't possible, so I never—"

"That's not fair," Neville cursed. "You can't say all of that and then turn around and proclaim you don't know. What you're asking for is—"

"I know what I am asking for!"

"Then stop playing games with me, Graces and answer the damn question. Do you want a future with me?" Her lips tightened stubbornly, but Neville didn't stop demanding an answer, until finally she screamed out that she did.

"I do," she hiccuped, holding his hand tighter. "I do. I can't bare the thought of this being it, of you being with anyone else, and when I think about being with anyone else I want to die."

"Do you love me?"

"No," she whispered. "I want to," she swore, bringing her hand to his cheek. "And I will. I just—I can't. I can't without this. I need you to do this. Please, Neville. Please do this. For me. For us. For the life we could have together. I'm falling in love with you," she sobbed. "Every day I can feel my affections growing stronger and stronger. Please do this."

For five heart-pounding moments he didn't know what to say. He thought of the life she was offering him and it was everything he wanted, but then he thought of the world it would be in. The man he would be if he did such a thing. The friends he would betray.

"I can't."

It was the first time he ever hurt her, really hurt her, and he could see it in her eyes. Her hand dropped limply from his and she backed away from him with an expression he had never seen on her face before.

"I couldn't look myself in the mirror if I did," he rasped, his own tears burning his eyes.

"Then we won't have mirrors," she offered, her lips trembling.

Neville just shook his head. "Harry is my friend and—"

"Harry Potter does not care for you the way I care for you," Graces cut in. "He doesn't, Neville, and you know that. He's not going to be inviting you over for the summer, or for Christmas when you all are older. Don't give us up for Harry, because he certainly doesn't care for you the way I do. You owe him no loyalty."

Neville knew it to be true, and closed his eyes and turned his chin down.

"Neville," Graces continued, cradling him into her chest. "I swear for every person you lose I will give you another. You will lose Harry and I will give you Draco. Hermione for Blaise. Seamus for—"

"None of those people are going to want to be my friends, Graces."

"Then I will give you children, children who will adore you, children who will think you hung the moon and the stars in the sky."

Neville turned away and stood up from the bed, pulling his trousers up and pacing the room, aware that Graces too had gotten up.

"I don't want to live in that world," he proclaimed. "I don't want that to be the future of the wizarding world. I don't want to bow before that monster. You're right. I don't owe anyone my loyalty, but I owe myself. And I do not want to live in a world like the one the Dark Lord is going to create."

"That world is coming," Graces said. "Harry Potter is not going to defeat a powerful Dark Lord, Neville. He isn't. You do not have to die on a fool's errand."

"It's a belief," Neville whispered. "I would die for my beliefs."

"Is that what you want?" Graces asked, her voice pleading. "To die when you could have had a life with me? A life filled with family and endless love?"

"I can't hurt people."

"You wouldn't have to," Graces insisted. "I bet you would just have to give information. We don't have anyone even somewhat close to Harry. You could just—"

"No!"

Silence filled the room. He hadn't meant to lose his temper, but he couldn't keep it together any longer. He felt sick from his heart pounding so much and his head was heavy and there was a headache deep behind his eye. The world was spinning and she was talking a million miles a minute, weaving ideas in his head so beautifully that he couldn't even hold onto his own.

He had braced himself against the small desk in the room, his head hung low as she breathed in deeply. He felt her hands come to his shoulders and fought against the urge to cry.

"I'm offering you everything," she whispered, her voice and touch gentle. "My family, my friends—and yes, Neville you would have my friends as your own. With my name and good opinion no one would ever mock you again. You would have my fortune, a dowry so big it would make your family wealth the second richest. You could improve your own business, study around the world anything you wanted you could have."

"Are you trying to coax me with your dowry?" Neville laughed brittly, feeling dirty with just the thought. "Would you really want a husband that only married you for your dowry?"

"No, but if you don't agree I may very well have one that will." Neville tensed at her words, but didn't reply. "Graham doesn't love me," Graces whispered. "But if not you, then it will be him. Maybe not now, but eventually. He's a good man and he wouldn't mistreat me, but it's not what I want. I want you."

"The question is do you love me enough to save me from that life? To sacrifice your beliefs for the life you and I both want. Harry is not going to win, Neville. He's a child. You can't save him or any of the others on his side. But you could save me, maybe even my family if you make the right deal with the Dark Lord. If you choose me you could at least have some happiness." She turned his head so he was staring at her. "Harry has a whole army on his side. I don't. I need you," she sobbed. "Neville, I need you. Please, do this for me. Do this and I swear I will make it up to you every single day of our lives."

It was tempting. For a brief moment he wanted to agree, not for any other reason than he wondered if she was right. If he could somehow help her and Draco, but then he thought of all the other people in the world and felt sick.

"I am not taking the mark, Graces," he growled, pulling away from her. "Not now, not ever. No matter what you say or do, no matter how I feel about you I will not do that. I won't."

He expected her to scream to fight him on his decision, but instead he turned around to find her dressing to leave, packing her things too.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," she sniffed.

"Graces—"

"Get away from me," she demanded, dodging his hand. "I believed you," she whispered, her voice giving away her agony. "I actually believed you. My father warned me time and time again not to be one of those foolish girls that believed promises made in bed, but I actually believed you when you said you loved me."

"I do love you."

"No," Graces whispered shaking her and closing her eyes to hold back the tears. "You don't. If you loved me you would never sacrifice my life. Even if it was for the greater good. Goodbye, Neville."

Neville stood glued to the floor for a few moments before realization dawned on him and then he was sprinting out of the room and slamming the front door shut before Graces could leave.

"This is not over, Malfoy. Don't you dare think it is. We are not done. I am not done."

"Yes, we are."

"No we are not. You and I are not nearly done."

"I can't do this," Graces sobbed. "I can't. If you don't love me this needs to end."

"I do love you!" Neville stressed.

"If you love me then love me right. Love me with everything you have, your soul if need be. Love me right or wrong. Love me above all others. Love me to the point where nothing and no one else matters. Love me with the same devotion you would give to a God. Love me so much you would do wrong, just so you could be by my side. I'm not asking you to die for me, Neville. I'm asking you to live. Live and create a life by my side."

Neville's jaw tensed, but he kept his arm firmly on the door.

"Come back in. We can talk, we—"

"Will you do it?"

"No."

"Then there is nothing to talk about."

"There is plenty to talk about!" Neville exclaimed. "I just found out a few minutes ago you want a future. Courting, meeting family, marriage, kids! It's not fair for you to do this! Spring this on me and expect me to just act! You know most people discuss these things together! Damn it, Graces!" Neville pounded his fist into the door. "You never even asked me! You know I don't even know if I want kids! I certainly don't have experience with them, and let's face it it's not like I had a father of my own to know what to do."

"You had your grandfather, your uncle—"

"That's not the point, Graces. The point is you never even asked me. I'm sixteen! Getting married isn't exactly what sixteen year olds think about! You—"

"You said you loved me. Was that just an empty word to you? Does it just mean you enjoy spending time with me? Because to me love means so much more than that. You don't tell someone you love them unless you want a future with them. Unless your life isn't whole without them by your side. So how can you speak to me of love if you never thought of me in your future."

"You don't think I thought about you in my future," Neville spat, anger rising up in his words. "I have. I do! What you're suggesting is my fantasy. You my wife, wanting to mother my children, wanting to include me with your family, but when I thought of our reality I just hoped you would visit. Come to my office and ask about your children, pretend to be there solely to know how they were doing in my class. I imagined you wouldn't allow for us to talk about anything personal, but at least I would see you. I could see you and know that you were in my office because you missed me as much as I missed you."

"That would be enough for you?"

"It would have to be."

"It doesn't have to be. Neville, it could be something so different. I could be coming into your office to have lunch with my husband before taking our children out to Hogsmeade. We could—"

"At what cost," Neville said miserably.

"If you loved me no cost would be too great." And they were back to where they began.

"I'm leaving. I think you should take this time to think about what matters to you, because I don't plan on coming back to this. I'm falling in love with you, Neville. Love. And if this is the love you have to offer... I would rather know now and walk away. Because it will kill me later to love you and not be allowed to have you."

Graces reached for the door, but Neville kept his hand in place, a defeated look to him, but when he spoke his voice was strong.

"We are not done," he repeated. "You're hurt. And if we're being honest I'm hurt. But we are going to talk about this. When you're done being a prat we will talk about this. This future you want and—"

"We don't have a future."

"Yes, we do! We do," he repeated slamming his hand against the door "We just need to figure things out. The safe hou—"

"I am not going to a damn safe house. I am not going to be locked away like an animal! I am going to be a Death Eater. It's decided. I will be, I've already promised the Dark Lord my loyalty. I promised him so that he would spare Thomas and Octavian. Now the question is will you be there by my side. Do you have enough love for me to do as I have done?"

Neville's head was whirling.

"I'm not leaving, Longbottom. You are. Just as your parents left you. They didn't need to be aurors, they chose it. They chose it knowing they could be leaving you behind. Your mother at least could have stayed out of it all. My mother stayed out of everything for Draco and me. That's why you hurt, because you know it. Somewhere deep in your bones you can feel that abandonment. You've lived your whole life craving the love they didn't have for you. And now you're choosing to abandon me. Like father like son, I suppose."

He could feel his anger like a hot iron in his blood. He turned around and slammed his fist to the wall near them out of frustration. He heard the door open behind him as Graces took the opportunity to leave, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her back inside, releasing her immediately.

"My gods you are a vicious thing!" he swore, pressing his back firmly against the door so she knew he was not going to allow her to just walk out. "You knew exactly what to say and by gods you had no issue using it." Graces glared at him hatefully, but he didn't move. "You were right. I did feel that way and it wasn't until this moment that I realized that they could love me and do what they did."

"Because I do love you, Graces. I love you so much. Even now when I just want to shake you, I love you. I will love you for the rest of my life, but I can't be a Death Eater, Graces." Her jaw was tense and he knew she was very close to using her wand on him, but he didn't care. "I'm going to let you go. But don't think for one second this is over. We are not over," he repeated. "You are mine and I am yours whether you like it or not. We've tried this whole song and dance time and time again and you always come back and I always welcome you with open arms. And I guarantee that will happen again. And you are going to apologize for the things you said and I am going to forgive you, because at the end of the day we are supposed to be together and I can feel that in every bone in my body. So walk out, be angry, but don't you dare do anything stupid and rash, like agree to marry Montague. Because we are not over."

Graces moved forward and he allowed her to open the door slightly to leave. She stood there on the threshold for a few moments, before looking up at him tearfully.

"I'm sorry now, for what I said. But we _are_ over. I won't come back to this." She leaned up and kissed him, taking him off his guard. "I hope you change your mind." And with that she slammed the door and was gone.

Neville stood there for a few moments before pacing across the room, his mind going a million miles an hour. He was so frustrated, hurt and confused, he ended up grabbing the vase of roses he had just gotten for Graces today and throwing them across the room at the door. Only to his utter surprise they didn't shatter against the wood, the vase shattered in the middle of the room and there was a surprised scream and thud against the carpet and Hermione Granger was half revealed knocked out among shards of glass.


	79. Chapter 79

Hermione knew before she opened her eyes that she was lying on a bed. Her head ached from the blow she was beginning to remember and she groaned with the effort it took to sit up. She stilled at the sight of Neville at the bedside. For a brief moment she saw relief flash across his face, before it hardened and she was met with hostility.

"Talk."

It wasn't a request, it was an order, and judging by the look in Neville's eyes it was an order he was not going to allow her to refuse.

Hermione reached downward for where she thought her wand would be and froze at the emptiness in her pocket. Neville's jaw tensed at the action, and his nostrils flared slightly- clearly not at all happy that she would have used her wand against him- but he said nothing, and seemed to reign in whatever anger he felt at the moment, which she was sure must have been a lot. If the whites of his knuckles were any indication of his rage. Hermione examined the boy in front of her, suddenly very aware of how much he had filled out over the current school year and for the first time in her life she was frightened of him.

"Where's my wand?" Hermione demanded, trying to push down her fear so that it wouldn't show and doing a miserable job of it.

"Do you need it right now?" Neville challenged airily, reminding Hermione strongly of Draco.

"Give. Me. My. Wand."

"So you can hex me and go running off to tell anyone who will listen what you saw here tonight? No, I don't think so."

Hermione looked around and wondered if she could beat him to the door. If she shut the bedroom door and sprinted to-

"Godric-bloody-Gryffindor, Hermione," Neville cursed, his voice losing his calm restraint. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then give me my wand."

"You really believe I would hurt you?" Neville asked, astounded at the idea that she could think such a thing. "You really think me capable of hurting you?"

"I'm beginning to realize I don't know you as well as I thought I did."

"Why? Because I'm with Malfoy?"

"Because you've kept it a secret."

Neville was silent for a few moments, his breathing the only telltale sign of his anger. Hermione wondered if she was wrong, if she was being unfair, but at the same time she didn't feel comfortable sitting there on a bed, wounded and without her wand. Maybe all her near death experiences with Harry were catching up to her, maybe she was just paranoid. Either way she wanted her wand desperately.

"You are going to talk," Neville said slowly. "I want to know why you're here and how long you have been here. You are not leaving this room without talking to me and I swear to the gods I don't believe in, Hermione, if you try to leave without talking, or you lie, I won't hurt a single hair on your head, but I'll snap your wand in two."

A sharp pain hit Hermione in the stomach at Neville's words and the room started spinning slowly. She felt nauseous from the encounter and her fear now transferred from herself to her wand, which might as well be her third hand.

"I was here the whole time," she admitted, looking down and taking a few deep breaths to calm herself.

"The whole time? That being..."

"I've been following you since you left the common room this morning," Hermione said between her teeth, aware how deep her hole was getting. She nervously looked up at Neville through her hair. He paled at her confession, and now it seemed he was going to be the one to get sick.

"You—" He swallowed before starting again. "You were here, for everything... You—Did you follow us when we left?" A small nod and Neville was on his feet. Hermione jolted back, expecting to be struck, and thankful that—after a few moments of pacing—Neville's fist landed on the lamp beside him, shattering it before it even hit the floor.

His fist was dripping blood, but Neville seemed to either not notice or care for his injury. He paced the space in front of the bed, running his hands through his hair and muttering under his breath before every once in awhile kicking something nearby or slamming his fist into something else.

Hermione began to speak, but Neville held up his hand to silence her.

"Don't say a word," Neville growled, his whole body shaking with fury.

"I thought the whole point of me staying was to talk," Hermione quipped, unable to stop herself, her own anger and betrayal coming forward.

"And you will," Neville said between his teeth. "But right now, at this moment, I want to hurt you." Hermione's blood went cold and Neville stopped his pacing and braced himself against the bed, leaning forward and obviously trying to calm himself down. Hermione watched his struggle and sat quietly praying his anger didn't win out.

"Why?"

She swallowed, but no words came forward so she could answer.

"WHY!?"

Hermione let out a noise of surprise, but still couldn't manage words. Neville demanded an answer to his question again and again, until he was holding her by her shoulders and shaking her for the answer. She was scared and alone and she found herself in tears as she braced her own hands against his shoulders.

"Neville, please."

"Just tell me why! Why would you do this? Why did you follow me? Why would you stay?"

"You're hurting me," Hermione choked, her shoulders feeling as though they were being bruised under his fingers. Neville released her immediately and turned to the wall beside them, hiding his face in his arm as he sobbed himself against the wall.

She knew she could leave now, that Neville wouldn't try to stop her, but she stared at the boy in front of her. Crying into his arm, looking so hopeless and lost and forgot why she was frightened of him to begin with. She moved off the bed and tried to place her hand on his shoulder, but Neville moved away from her touch and kept his back turned to her.

"Do you have any idea how intimate tonight was for me?"

Hermione flushed remembering their interactions. "I didn't watch," she swore. "I-I heard, but I turned away. I didn't see anything."

Neville made a noise that sounded close to a laugh, but held no humor. "That should bother me, huh? It should bother me that you were here for that. That you know what I sound like when I'm enjoying her. Or that you know what she sounds like when she's enjoying me. It should bother me that you must have, at some point, seen me half naked and her for that matter too. That something that was always supposed to remain private and sacred between us you invaded. But it doesn't bother me, not the way it should at least. Because the only thing I can't stop thinking of was you were there on our date."

He turned around to face her, his eyes red from tears, but his face and posture strong.

"I never shared any of that with anyone," Neville said, his voice a few shades weaker. "No one. I said small things to Crouch. When I thought he was Moody, and that was difficult. It was difficult and all I said was that I hated seeing them in the hospital and asked if that made me a bad son. I asked him what it was like to be tortured and if they must have suffered greatly. Two things I revealed to him. Two. And it was hard for me then. It killed me when I knew who he really was. It made me never want to say a word again."

"And then she came around," Neville breathed. "She came and ... and I knew I had to share more. That I needed to be open with someone. That I couldn't expect to have real intimacy with someone if they didn't know me and understand me. I knew I had to tell her more than I ever dared tell anyone before. So I tried to and I fucked it up again and again. And she was patient and didn't demand more, she waited for me to be able to. She never pressed me. She understood it was difficult and let me go at my own pace. She told me so much, she let me know so much about her and just accepted I couldn't talk about myself. I _wanted_ to share with her though," Neville stressed. "I wanted to. Because she made me feel things I've never felt before and she deserved to know."

"You will never know how hard today was for me. Never. It was months of working up to. Months. I've never spoken with anyone that much about my parents. About my feelings. And it was hard. It was so bloody hard," Neville emphasized. "The only comfort I had during it was that it was her. That she wouldn't judge me and that if one person in the world should know how I felt and what I struggle with daily it should be the woman I'm in love with. I wanted to share myself with her. Not you."

"Neville, I don't think less of you. I understand why you—"

"That's not the point!" Neville interrupted impatiently. "I didn't choose to tell you any of that. I didn't want anyone knowing that stuff about me. And it wasn't just out of fear of rejection, I just didn't want people to know. You violated my privacy. You violated her privacy. Everything you heard and saw today was for her eyes and ears only. Not you. I never in a million years would have told you."

"Even after you saw my parents and we fought beside one another at the ministry. I didn't want to tell you. I never would have told you that. You know because you were spying on me."

"I was just worried about you," Hermione offered lamely. "I was worried about you, and you refused to talk to me about anything that has to do with her. And then I overheard the two of you in Herbology, and heard you ask her out for Valentine's Day and then I saw you two on Harry's map and you're so damn secretive! I knew you wouldn't talk to me about her so I did the only thing I could do. What was I supposed to do Neville? You won't talk to anyone about her and you've become so distant and strange this past year. I was worried about you. What should I have done?"

"Respected my privacy!" Neville bellowed. "I've been asking you to do that all year. All bloody year! I don't need you to worry about me!"

"I disagree."

Neville glared at her and waited for an explanation.

"I-I think I think she may be using you."

"Using me," Neville repeated.

"Yes... for information on Harry."

"She's not."

"Neville," Hermione began with practiced patience. "She just asked for you to take the Mark and suggested you offer to spy on Harry."

"Because she wants something more with me, and—"

"What if she doesn't? What if she's just using you? I mean... it's not like her family is opposed to the idea of using others for their own ends. I'm just worried about you. You care so much, Neville. So much, and what if she is using those feelings against you?"

"Using them against me," Neville echoed. "Using them against me how?"

"I don't know."

"Well you must have something in mind for you to say something," Neville accused angrily.

"I don't have anything in mind! I'm just saying what if."

"You sound like Harry," Neville said.

"I do not!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm not being paranoid! I'm just telling you I think you need to question things more! What am I supposed to think, Neville? I told her you liked her and she seemed pleased to toy with your feelings. Then you ask her out and she's insulting towards you. Now she wants a future with you as long as you take the Mark? I'm just telling you what I'm seeing. And what I am seeing isn't love. It's manipulation and war games."

"You're wrong."

"You don't know her," Hermione pleaded miserably, thinking back to the horrific things Graces had said to her in the bathroom. "Trust me, Neville, you don't. I can't even bring myself to tell you what she's said to me. I know you think you love her, but if you had an idea of her capacity for cruelty you would think differently of her."

Neville's lips tightened into a thin line and his eyes diverted away from hers.

"You're not a witch," Neville breathed. "You may look like a flower, but in truth you're a weed. A weed that taints the bed it sets its roots in. And I can't wait till we weed you out like the parasite you are."

Neither Gryffindor seemed to be able to speak. Hermione's eyes followed Neville's despite them being diverted from her.

"She told you what she said to me and you stayed?"

Neville took a deep breath before looking up at her. "She didn't tell me, I was there."

Hermione's mouth opened, but no words came forth.

"She's not a bad person," Neville murmured. "She's just misguided. She doesn't know better."

"How can you make excuses for her? For that."

Neville chewed the inside of his lip for a few moments and Hermione wished he wouldn't say anything more, but he did.

"You don't know her. It's complicated."

"She thinks that I and people like me deserve to die, Neville. She said just a few minutes ago that she is going to be a Death Eater. She asked you to be a Death Eater and kill people like me for no other reason than our blood status and you're trying to say that in some way that's okay?"

"I am not saying that."

"Then what are you saying?" Hermione snarled, her heart pounding in her chest.

"I'm saying she's misguided," Neville shrugged, his face a sea of confusion. "I don't know how to explain it, but I know who she is and-and she isn't a bad person. I've seen enough to know she's not a bad person. She is just warped with these beliefs her parents instilled in her. She can't help that. She's... ignorant. But it's changing. Slowly but surely, it is."

"You think she's changing?"

"I know she is."

"So she doesn't believe that blood status matters," Hermione challenged.

Neville bit his lower lip for a moment. "I think she's questioning it."

There was another pregnant silence.

"She's going to be a Death Eater, Neville. So her beliefs must not be changing that much."

"She doesn't have a choice."

"We all have choices," Hermione reminded.

"She really doesn't believe she does."

"Why?"

Neville shook his head, not willing to tell her Graces' secrets. Hermione's nose flared in frustration.

"How can you be so blind?"

"I'm not blind. It's the opposite. I've seen more."

"You've seen what she's wanted you to see. She's a grand little actress, your girl," she said, rolling her eyes. Neville didn't rise to her challenge and instead just took a seat and waited for more beration. "You're not going to try and convince me otherwise?"

"I'm not going to waste my breath."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not going to believe me, so there's no point. And frankly, I refuse to divulge anything about her. I think her privacy has been invaded enough."

"She's manipulating you, Neville. Can't you see that?" Hermione pleaded, realizing she was pushing Neville further away. "She's using love and affection as a means to control you." Neville closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Neville, I need you to see this. I need you to at least acknowledge this." Hermione pulled his face so that he was forced to look at her. "Love is not something that has a check list. She's telling you she can't love you without you becoming a Death Eater, and that is not love, Neville. It does not work that way. Tell me you don't believe you have to do some set of tasks to be loved. She's trying to manipulate you, Neville. She's using love as a means of hurting you."

Neville brought his calloused hands to her wrists and gently held them there. Hermione, for a moment, believed that she had gotten through to him until he moved her hands away and sighed.

"She is trying to manipulate me," Neville sighed. "I'm not daft. She's definitely trying to bend me towards what she wants. But it's not for the reasons you think. She really does want that life with me and in her mind this is the only way we can have it." Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Neville continued. "She's spoiled. Never in her life has she been told no. Everything she wanted she's been given, and she's ruthless. Gods be damned for the combination, but it is what it is. She's flawed beyond your imagination and just as beautiful. Right now she wants this from me and she is going to raise all seven hells to try to get what she wants, not caring that she is in so many ways burning us alive. Me as much as her. She'll come around though."

He said the last part more for himself than for Hermione. She didn't know what to say. He was so lost in Graces. There was no way she was going to be able to convince him of what she really was. Neville slowly reached over her and pulled out her wand from under the mattress. Hermione reached out to it and was about to take it away, when Neville folded his hand over hers and held her there.

"I'm in love with her. I love her more than I love anyone or anything in this world. She makes me feel alive and... brave. I wake up in the morning and I'm content. I don't feel alone anymore. That hollowness that was always in me is gone. For the first time in my life I am comfortable in my own skin. I have someone to talk to. She's the love of my life and she's my best friend. I understand your fear and trepidation regarding her, but please leave it alone." He released her hand and wand and sat back as she put it back in her coat. "I need you to promise me you won't tell a soul what you saw here tonight."

"Neville, I can't. I—"

"Hermione, I understand why you are worried, but I'm begging you to trust me."

"Neville, I still don't believe she's being sincere with you. You need people around you. She's isolated you this year and you need—"

"I need her," Neville cut in. "I can handle her hissy fit, Hermione. I need you to trust me."

Hermione shook her head, already sorry for what she had to do.

"Then I am going to take the Mark."

Her blood went cold and for five heart pounding moments she couldn't breathe.

"What?"

"If you tell anyone about us, whisper a hint about us or about what you heard tonight, I am going to take the Mark."

"How could you do that?"

"I love her. And if the world knew about us she would lose everything. Her family, her friends, her fortune. And Octavian and Thomas, who may as well be her own sons. I'm not going to allow her to lose everyone she loves because of me. It would kill her to lose Draco. It would literally kill her. If you tell anyone I will be forced to take the Mark. If I take the Mark people will accept her choice to be with me. If I don't her family will be forced to disown her and I'm not going to let that happen. I can tell her no now and let go of my happiness, but I can't allow her to lose all of hers."

"I think you're bluffing."

"I'm not."

"You would do that? You would spy on—"

"I'm not going to spy. I'll be very open about my decision. I'll make sure everyone knows what I did, what I am," Neville said tightly. "I'm begging you not to tell, Hermione. Just keep this to yourself. Please."

"I don't even know who you are anymore! How could you even consider this, Neville? How could you—"

"If you don't tell it won't be an issue."

"How can I keep this a secret!"

"Very easily," Neville replied, his voice growing cold. "If you don't—if you can't—you leave me no choice. I won't allow her to suffer because I couldn't protect her from my so-called friends. So here are your options, Hermione. Leave and not say a word, sparing me from a life I don't want to have. Or go and tell, forcing me to bow down and sacrifice my soul for the woman I love. It's no one's business anyways who I see."

"It is when the person you're seeing is trying to force you into taking the Mark!"

"I can handle that on my own."

"Can you? Can you really? Because from where I was standing it looked like you were having a difficult time saying no."

"But I did."

"For how long? How long can you take her withdrawal? If she refuses to speak to you till you do this how long can you-"

"She's throwing a fit. I guarantee she will be back here in a week. She's tried to break up before."

"This looked pretty final."

"It's not. She's just being a prat."

"Neville, what if she doesn't? What if she's serious? And you said yourself she's everything to you so—"

"I won't take the Mark. I'll only be taking the Mark if you tell. You have my word."

Hermione bit her tongue and tried to keep the words she was thinking from bubbling up but it was a futile fight.

"The thing is Neville I don't know how much your word is worth." Neville's eyes narrowed, but he remained quiet. "You never mentioned to me that you had house elves. All those times I had talked with you regarding S.P.E.W. and—"

"And I politely listened."

"You joined!"

"To make you stop pestering me."

It took effort to keep her jaw from dropping. "You never even mentioned your family has them."

"It was not your business or concern."

"You keep slaves."

Neville's eyebrows raised, as though what she was saying was insane.

"I keep house elves. It's very different."

"How?"

"Would you say having a dog or cow was keeping slaves?"

"It's different."

"How so?" Neville asked, his arms folding in front of him.

"Elves are intelligent and they think the same as you and I. And—"

"They're like pets, Hermione. They have a purpose in our lives and we love them, but I would not go as far as to say they are the same."

"You require them to do manual labor for no pay."

"If I offered to pay them they would be offended."

"Why not set them free? If they choose to stay and continue to be with you. Fine, but if they leave—"

"If I set them free they would be a wreck. Do you seriously not understand how house elves work? If I set them free it would shame them and it would break their hearts. It's like kicking them out of the family."

"Make them understand they don't need to be your property to be a member of the family."

"That wouldn't work."

"Why not?"

"Because they wouldn't understand a word I was trying to tell them, they would just cry. They have the minds of children."

"They could understand it. If you—"

"You know what, I am not having this discussion with you. I refuse. They are my elves. I've known them my whole life, so I think I have a better idea of what they want and need than you who has known of their existence for merely a few years and whose interactions with them are maybe once in a few months!"

"I don't need to be around them to know it's wrong! It's wrong, Neville and I refuse to just drop the subject."

"Talk 'til you're blue in the face, I'm not getting rid of a single house elf."

" _Setting free_!" Hermione emphasized.

Neville folded his arms and sat silently, clearly closing the discussion.

"Set your elves free and I won't tell."

"You won't tell because if you tell I will take the Mark. There is no bargaining here, Hermione. I've laid out the stipulations. The choice is yours. My elves stay with me."

Hermione gripped her wand and reminded herself that this was Neville. Neville who had been her friend for years. Neville who comforted her when she was upset. Who asked her to get him more toothpaste, because he liked the taste. She stared at the man in front of her and tried to remember who he was, remember that he was still the same person who fought beside her at the ministry.

"You even sound like her now," she said tightly. Neville let out a sigh and leaned back in the chair. "If she really is so grand, Neville. If you really believe her to be a good person, then why not tell your friends?"

"Because she will be disowned," Neville reminded irritatedly. "Lose her family, friends and fortune."

"But no one would die," Hermione pressed. "Neville, she would lose all of that, but no one would die. If she's a Death Eater... people will die. At her hands. I realize it would be hard for her, but—"

"There is more to it," Neville interrupted, his face aging drastically as he hung his head. "I can't tell you what, but there is much more to it. She will not defy You Know Who. And, if we're being honest, I wouldn't want her to. She's made promises to him, and I've seen his cruelty."

"I love her and I want to protect her, and if you tell a soul there's only one way I know how to. So choose, Hermione. Will you keep my secret? I'm not asking you to hide a body. I'm just asking you not tell anyone who I am seeing."

"If we could just tell Harry then—"

"I am not telling Harry. Harry is the last person I would want knowing."

"He's your friend," Hermione implored.

"We're not even speaking at the moment," Neville reminded. "And, if we are being very honest, I don't believe we are that close anyways. I don't think I would really want to be discussing my love affairs with him if it was uncomplicated."

"She's using you. I know she is," Hermione whispered, more to herself than Neville who sat quietly and didn't say a word. "I hate that you're doing this to me. Forcing me into silence. Making me feel responsible for your choices."

"I hate that you invaded my privacy on one of the most intimate nights of my life," Neville replied coldly.

Hermione glared at Neville for what seemed like hours before asking how long this had been going on.

"A while."

"You said this was your first date."

"It was."

"So what was going on before?"

"That's none of your business."

"Were you sleeping with her?" Neville blushed under his collar, but remained stone faced as he repeated that it was not her concern. "Did she seduce you?"

"Merlin's beard, Hermione. Just drop it."

"I can't! Did she seduce you?"

"No."

"Oh so you seduced her?" Hermione scoffed, knowing Neville to be far too shy for such an action.

"Maybe I did," Neville snapped belligerently.

"I highly doubt that," said Hermione angrily. "Come on, Neville, think. Why would she—a girl whose father you imprisoned, a girl like Graces _Malfoy who has tortured you for years_ —seduce you and continue to sleep with you for what months? And then—"

"She did not seduce me, and you know what if she did maybe it was because she, I don't know, fancied me?"

"Right," Hermione snorted. "She just opened her eyes one day and saw that you were the one. After over half a decade of calling you names and laughing with Pansy at you, your weight and your struggle in classes she suddenly thinks the world of you and goes to bed with you. No, you're right, Neville. She clearly fancies you. It's not at all for information, or to pull you towards her side of the war. Obviously she's in love. Oh wait, no. I'm sorry. I guess she's not in love because apparently she can only love you if you're branded with the same Mark as the people who destroyed your parents and then laughed about it. You sure know how to pick them, Neville."

She wasn't sure when she stood up, but she found herself towering over where Neville was seated, her breath ragged and short from her frustration. And she realized as soon as she really took in Neville that she had made a mistake. He glared up at her hatefully and with a chilling calm before standing up and forcing her to take a step away.

"Leave."

"What happened to wanting to talk?" Hermione challenged, her blood boiling from Neville's willful ignorance.

"We're done talking," Neville said, striding over to the bedroom door and holding it open. "Get out."

Hermione indignantly left the room, bristling at how Neville was following her out and ensuring she left the apartment as a whole. She yanked open the door and stepped out, turning back around to face Neville who stood in the doorway watching her.

"You see how wrong that is, don't you? Her saying that she could not love you unless you took the Mark? Her _emotionally manipulating_ you so that you feel like you are the one in the wrong. It's- it's wrong, Neville, abusive even. Tell me you see that."

Neville's jaw tightened and he took a deep breath through his nose, before repeating for her to leave. Hermione didn't need to hear or say more. She realized that it was over. Neville didn't care what she had to say and she didn't care what he had to say either.

"And, Granger," Neville called out stopping her from moving further down the hall. "Don't say a word to Graces. Unlike me she _will_ kill you. And at the moment I don't have the inclination to want to stop her."

Hermione stood in the hall for a long time after Neville slammed the door, terrified of both decisions before her.

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"You need to make up with Neville."

"Good bloody morning to you too," Harry said, sitting up in the bed and rubbing his eyes.

"Now. Today. As soon as you see him."

Harry tried to process everything that Hermione was saying to him while at the same time convince his eyes to stay open.

"Can we talk about this later?"

"No. There is nothing to talk about. You're making up with him." Hermione started to walk away muttering something about 'another Pettigrew' and before she left the dorm completely she added. "And you're going to include him more!"

Harry groaned and rolled over to look over at Ron.

"Do you know what that was about?"

"No, but I wouldn't argue, mate. She seemed in a right state about it."

Harry groaned a bit and turned over to go back to sleep.

"I think you should anyways," Ron mumbled. "You threw your punches and now it's time to make up."

"That easy, huh?"

"Works for me and my brothers," Ron muttered turning back over in his bed and pulling the sheets above his hair.

Harry scowled and mimicked Ron's actions, deciding to think on it more in the morning when he had more of his mind to think with.


	80. Chapter 80

Neville sat on the edge of the bed staring at the gash running across his knuckles to the top of his wrist. He could probably heal it fine. It was deep, but he could almost certainly patch it up. The only downside of him patching it up was there would probably be a scar. Graces was much more talented in this area than he.

He closed his eyes at the thought and willed the sickness in his stomach to subside. She was just throwing a fit, he told himself, unwilling to allow himself to even consider the alternative. Still, he felt ill and there was a hole in his chest that felt as though it would swallow him up.

He reminded himself that this wasn't their first "break up" so to speak and that it always ended the same. She would be back. She would make promises that she would be better, and they would end up here. Neville sighed and flopped back on the bed. Two months was admittedly pretty good for the blonde, so in some ways she had done well. Neville let out a small chuckle that held no humor.

She wanted a life with him. Not just a serious relationship, an actual life. Marriage, kids... a whole lot of responsibility. He swallowed hard at the thought. Did he want that?

_No._

_Someday?_

_Maybe. Marriage, yes. Not now._

Neville nodded his head. Definitely not now. He loved her, and he wanted to make her happy but he didn't want to get married. He wanted to date, get to know one another so intimately that they knew all of each other's stories and no longer needed words to communicate how they felt. He wanted to graduate and get his own place, decorate it as he liked—which admittedly would be pretty terrible, just a lot of plants really. But he wanted to have that time to be a bachelor and have papers flooding his desk, barely any food in the fridge because he ate out most nights and spent most if not all of those nights taking Graces out and bringing her back to his place just to hear her complain about how awful it was and try to insist they stay at hers more often.

And then when they're spending so much time at one or the other's place to the point where it didn't make sense to live separately he wanted to move in together. By that time he probably could have scraped up enough money for a decent engagement ring and he could propose in some romantic fashion. Probably just in their living room since he hated people staring. She would insist on a big, grand engagement party and wedding and after they would just have some time to themselves. Just to be happy and content with one another. Obviously Draco would be around a lot, and hopefully after all that time he would at least tolerate Neville, maybe even like him.

He knew the issue of kids would at some point have to be addressed. Graces wanted kids. His gran wanted grandkids, and once their friends started having kids he knew that there would be a lot of pressure from both women for children. But he figured at that point maybe he would want them. He probably would have been around them a bit more often if their friends had them, and he may even want them at that point.

But he certainly didn't want them now. He honestly didn't even want to think of the possibility of children now.

He laid there quietly, pondering how long he wanted all that. He never really gave much thought to what he wanted with Graces future-wise, probably because he assumed she wanted nothing, but now that he knew she did want something he found himself really wanting the future he just thought up.

But that future didn't take the war into account. It didn't take into account the choices they both were about to make. The lives they were about to lead.

Neville stood up from the bed and put those thoughts to rest. He knew what he had to do in this war. He didn't want to think about the things Graces was going to do.

He rubbed his swollen, sleep-deprived eyes and picked up a jumper he wore a few days ago, not bothering to look at himself in the mirror. He needed some fresh air and something in his stomach. It was close to lunch time and he figured he could go to the greenhouse for an hour and grab a sandwich or something from the Great Hall before coming back to wait/brood.

He left his and Graces' tiny apartment, his mind thinking of her despite his need for a break. He was so deep in thought he didn't notice that Harry was coming down the hall towards him until the raven-haired boy called out his name.

He couldn't move. Harry was here, an area of the building that know one came to. He felt punched in the gut, Hermione must have told him. His heart was pounding in his throat and he felt the world move from under him.

"You okay?" Harry asked, moving forward and grabbing him by the arm to steady him. Neville jerked his arm away, but Harry held him firmer and insisted he take a seat on the ground. "You look like you're about to pass out. Just sit for a second."

"I'm fine."

"No offense, Neville, but you look very far from fine."

Neville pushed Harry aside and hurried down the hall, being sure to not look back. Nothing had ever felt so wrong. Months ago he was fighting alongside Harry, deciding to die for the cause, telling Harry to let him die and be tortured rather than to save him and give up the prophecy and now... now he was going to be—

"Nev, come on. I'm sorry! I came here to apologize!"

He stopped.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I-I was out of line and I'm sorry."

He waited to hear more, but nothing more came.

"What did Hermione tell you?"

Harry looked taken aback for a second before saying nothing.

"Nothing?" Neville asked disbelieving.

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment before admitting that she had demanded he make things right between them.

"That's all she said? Just make things right?"

Harry shrugged.

"And she told you to come here?"

"Uh, no..." Harry held up his map. "This told me to come here. I checked the Greenhouse first, but you weren't there and when I couldn't find you I decided to just see where you were at." There was a pregnant silence around them for a few moments before Harry asked where they were.

"Old apartments for professors. I like to sleep here. It's quiet. I got the password during one of my detentions when I had to clean them."

"So you basically have your own room here?"

Neville shrugged, not really inclined to talk about it.

"Neville, come on. I'm trying here."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"I don't know. That you're sorry too? That—"

"I'm not sorry, though."

"Then yell at me!"

Neville sighed. "I don't need to yell at you."

"Then what do you need? I want to put this behind us."

"It's not that simple. I can't just put this behind me," Neville said, angry at Harry for just thinking he could. "I can't just be okay with how you treated her, Harry. I can't. I'm not okay with you spying on her and her brother. And I hate that in your mind she and Draco are only Death Eaters and that's—"

"What am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to view them?"

Neville stared across the long hall at his friend and his heart grew so heavy with hurt he felt it would weigh him down to the stones beneath them.

"We're all just kids, Harry. They're kids."

"That doesn't mean that they—"

"No, it doesn't. You're right. And you may very well be right that they are Death Eaters, but once you start thinking like that, Harry, once you categorize people as good and evil and make the world black and white you forget all the other details of a person. And you forget things like the fact that Graces is just a teenage girl, and it makes you think it's okay to hurt her, to touch her in anger."

"I know I shouldn't have grabbed her, I know. But—"

"It's not that you grabbed her, Harry. It's that in your mind she is only one thing. The reason you grabbed her is because you don't see all the other things about her other than that one image. It's like how Death Eaters can hurt muggles because they don't see them as human."

Harry fell silent and Neville tried to regather his anger.

"I just don't understand it, Neville," Harry murmured quietly. "I mean, I understand the attraction, and I saw firsthand she could be charming, but she's... she's—"

"She's a spoiled, rotten brat with narcissistic tendencies and a temper to match that of her father."

"A bit more detailed than I was going to say, but yeah."

"She has a lot of good to her too," Neville whispered. "A lot of good."

"Neville, no offense, but you say that and never expand. Never. Tell me something, anything. Tell me a real story of why you feel that way."

Neville was unsure of what to say, most of the things he could tell Harry about Graces he wasn't able to tell. He couldn't tell her what she was like with him in private... or what cost she paid to ensure Thomas' safety.

"Do you want to know why I gave Thomas that child? Why I gave in when Graces asked?"

Harry shrugged, and Neville could tell from the way he avoided his eyes that Harry thought it was to win some affection, just as everyone else at the table had thought when Graham had revealed he had something to do with the child's placement.

"She wanted that child, actually wanted him. He was no burden in her mind. She wanted not just to take care of him, but take care of Thomas as well. She offered to drop out of school and raise him, did you know that? She told me that if I gave my grandmother's vote she would personally take care of that child. Raise him until Thomas was done with school. Who does that, Harry? Did you know the Malfoy's had no formal ties with the Higgs?

"Neville, I'm not dismissing what she did," Harry pointed out. "It was very kind. I'm not saying it wasn't I'm just saying—"

"Kind?" Neville repeated distastefully. "Kind? She was going to give up her youth, her education, her chances of becoming a healer and essentially her own future for him and an infant she barely knew. Kind doesn't even begin to cover it."

Harry didn't know what to say. Neville was right it was far more than kind, but he was having a hard time processing all this new information being thrown at him.

"She was so angry with me," Neville remembered, talking to himself more than Harry. "I believe I called her a child and told her to grow up. She's stubborn and damn her temper is biting, but I love that about her. I love that she feels so passionately. Even when she's angry, it's fascinating to see. Reason sinks away, morals sink away, she only goes off what she feels and she feels very deeply... Can you imagine being loved by someone like that?" Neville asked. "I can't."

Why are you telling me all this?" Harry asked heavily.

"Because—because she's not a bad person... Not really a good person either though. She's a mix. Lots of good, just as much bad. Maybe she will be a Death Eater, Harry. But she's also someone's daughter, Draco's sister, the Slytherin team's keeper, Thomas' friend and the godmother to a small baby who doesn't even know what he lost... Take away the war and look at her. Don't just look at what she may do, look at _her_. Put away what she had done to you and think of her as just a girl."

Harry was silent for a moment, before looking up at Neville with eyes that had seen too much for his young age.

"What if she hurts someone, Neville? What if she hurts someone and I could have prevented it? What if Draco hurts someone and I could have stopped him?" Neville didn't know what to say. It was a valid point and he had a sickening feeling that quite possibly someone was going to get hurt. "I don't have the privilege of being just a normal boy at this school, Neville. And I know you want to think of her as just a girl, but she's not. Just like I'm not just a boy."

There was a long pause that followed Harry's last statement before he continued. "And Katie still has not returned to school. And I know I have no proof, but I am sure Draco's responsible."

Neville looked down, embarrassed that he had forgotten about Katie Bell.

"Maybe you're right, Neville. Maybe she is a good person, but that doesn't mean she can't do horrible things. Good people can do terrible things."

"Yes, I know, but—" Neville stopped himself short. He felt like a child making irrational excuses. How could he tell Harry—Harry Potter of all people—that it wasn't that simple.

"Come on, let's get some air."

"I—"

"Neville, just shut up and walk with me."

He was uncomfortable and his stomach was turning and turning into every knot that must have existed, but he did as Harry requested and followed him out onto the grounds. His head was spinning with words, explanations, justifications and part of him just wanted to tell the truth, but he tightened his lips and waited for the boy next to him to say something.

"We can't continue fighting about the Malfoys."

"No, we can't," Neville agreed looking out at the lake. He bit the inside of his lip and debated whether or not to stay silent. "I don't think they have a choice, Harry."

"We all have choices. Sometimes the right one isn't easy, but it's a choice. You made choices, hard ones."

"The Higgs made a choice."

Harry looked up at Neville's words and the sandy-haired boy wiped at his eyes furiously, surprised at the emotion that statement brought.

"Neville, it's—"

"Just let up on them, Harry. Please. Be kind. Be understanding. Remember they're scared. They may not show it, but they're scared."

Harry stared at him, examining him from what felt like all angles, his green eyes as deep as the forest around them. "Do you know anything, Neville? Did she, ever, in all that time she tutored you, tell you anything?"

Neville opened his mouth and closed it. He couldn't betray her.

"She's scared. She didn't need to say anything for me to know that. She's scared."

"Of what, though?"

"I'm sure you can guess."

"How do you know she's scared."

"I know."

"How?"

"I just know!"

Harry cursed and looked like he wished he could strangle Neville, but instead turned and cursed again in the other direction. Neville too was trying to regain himself, frustrated by the secrecy that now was his life.

"You can just tell. If you actually look at her you can tell. She's beautiful, Harry, but look at her. Is her weight the same? Her eyes? Do you not see the darkened circles? The way she looks about in the hall, as though she suspects someone is watching her. The way she reaches for Draco's hand in a crowd. That's not reaching for a hand to be escorted, she wants the comfort. When did Draco and Graces ever display affection like that before? They would walk side by side, shoulder to shoulder, but look at them now. Merlin, Harry, have you noticed both of them aren't doing well this year in their classes? Graces, is doing better than Draco, but damn she sure has trouble with her wand work. She used to be brilliant and now... now it's not the same," Neville said venomously. "It's not. And damn the world for not paying attention as they sink away into hell."

"What do you expect me to do, Neville?" Harry asked dejectedly. "What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know... But what you're doing now, it isn't working, Harry."

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"I think I may have found a book that could have something of use to us."

"Really?" Graham asked, looking over at the blonde beside him. "Was it in the library?"

"No," Graces sighed. "I'll need to send for it. Shouldn't take too long though, a few weeks maybe a month."

"That's a long time for a book."

"It's an old book." Graces sighed, "And unfortunately there is only one copy and it is owned by some family in the States. I'm currently in the process of making an offer for it."

Graham nodded and went back to the book he was currently reading, his mind having no difficulty leaving the subject. Graces sat there for a moment silently before asking if they should leave to join Draco.

"No," Graham murmured distractedly. "I think he wants to be left alone for a bit."

"I hate leaving him in there alone. We get back and he is... I don't know, wild almost. He has this crazed look about him."

"He insists he thinks better when we're not around. He only requests a few hours on the weekends before we join him. I think we would both do well to honor such a simple request."

Graham glanced up from his book at the girl seated in front of him.

"There's no need to fret at the moment."

"I'm not fretting," Graces said dryly.

"You look like you're fretting."

Graces narrowed her eyes at him challengingly, but Graham was so used to the Malfoys that he brushed the look off with hardly a thought. He looked around the library, thankful that Sundays usually left it pretty quiet.

"I know it's none of my business, and trust me I wish we could avoid this kind of discussion, but everything okay with you?"

"Yeah, fine."

"You just seem unusually despondent today."

"Big word," Graces muttered irritatedly, flipping open a book and closing the conversation.

Graham took the paper he had balled up earlier and playfully chucked it at the blonde in front of him. Graces scowled, picking up the balled up paper and looking at it then him, perplexed by the idea that he could good humoredly throw something at her. The right side of Graham's lips tugged at a smile, but Graces just continued to look at him as though he were mad.

"Are you ill?"

"Merlin's beard, Malfoy. I'm being a friend."

"Well, stop it. You're freaking me out."

Graham let out a breath that was close to a sigh and told himself to let it go, but again he found himself continuing.

"You really have nothing to worry about right now."

"I'm not worried."

"What are you? Cause you look far from fine."

"If you must know I'm angry."

"Angry," Graham repeated, a little taken aback by Graces declaration. "Angry at what?"

"It's personal."

Graham ground his teeth for a moment before deciding to just let it go. If Graces didn't want to talk to him, fine. He really hated talking anyways. He had just started to begin reading again when the paper he threw earlier bounced off his jaw. He looked up to find Graces with a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Stop flirting with me, Malfoy."

Graces laughed heartily at his words and Graham was put somewhat at ease to see that whatever was bothering her was easily put away.

"If I was flirting with you, Montague, you would know it."

Graham raised an eyebrow at the blonde before smirking.

"I don't believe I have ever seen you flirt with anyone."

"I flirt!" Graces cried, clearly appalled at this idea that she didn't have a certain feminine charm. "I flirt well!"

"With whom?"

"I flirt with Blaise."

"You and Blaise put on a show. It doesn't count."

Graces' mouth hung open for a moment before she scoffed and asked who he flirted with.

"I don't have time to flirt."

"And I do?"

Graham shrugged. "More time than I."

"I can't imagine you flirting."

"I flirted with you."

"When?"

"Nice scales."

Graces flushed before calling him a very unflattering name in French.

"See, I can flirt."

"It wasn't impressive."

"I wasn't trying."

Graces laughed and then leaned back in her chair regally. "It wouldn't have worked if you were. I don't really go for the charming, dashing smile, sweep me off my feet sort of thing."

"Oh no? What is it that draws Graces Malfoy in?"

"Sincerity, I suppose."

"Merlin, I really was doomed then."

"Afraid so," Graces giggled.

"Come on, we should go meet up with your arse of a brother."

"Please, you love Draco," Graces scoffed, picking up her bag and deciding to just carry her books.

Graham rolled his eyes and took the books out of Graces arms to carry. "You Malfoys think a lot of yourselves."

"There's a lot to think," Graces declared, shining her pearly white teeth at him.

Graham didn't return the smile. He just shook his head and wondered when he had grown so fond of the Malfoys. He remembered a few years ago all he wanted to do was pummel Draco in the face and shove Graces down the stairs. It was interesting how much of them was below the surface. _Not to mention how much they have been forced to grow up._ Graham wondered how much he himself had changed since taking over for his family and taking the Mark.

He never felt more alone than he did these days. He knew he had the twins, but it wasn't the same as having your own family. And his family was either not speaking to him, waiting for him to fall on his face or silently grateful that he took over and they could sleep securely. His left arm felt heavy with responsibility, and he could have sworn his Mark was tingling beneath his sleeves. He knew it was impossible and that this was in his head, but still it was always there on his mind, reminding him of how deep into the pits of hell he had crawled. He tried to put his thoughts away, reminding himself that what was done was done and he made the best choice for his family. The people he loved were safe and that was all that mattered.

He reminded himself of what was done to the girl beside him. He flashed the images of her bleeding to death on a bed, with people too scared to get her real medical attention. She suffered, his sister suffered and he was going to be damned if anyone else he loved suffered when he could help it.

They turned the corner to find Harry and Neville sitting on a bench in the hall, talking quietly with one another. Both boys fell silent at seeing their entrance and, for a reason he didn't understand, Graham marched forward towards them.

Harry stood at seeing his fast approach and Neville looked over to Graces questioningly, but before either boy could say a word Graham yanked Harry towards him before shoving him against one of the stone walls.

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Neville jumped to his feet at seeing the Slytherin captain throw Harry against the wall. He didn't even bother with his wand before running forward. This turned out to be a mistake as not a moment before reaching Graham the man's wand was pointed at prepared himself for a hex, but before it came Graces' arms were on Montague's, stopping him from throwing a spell.

She was breathless and shaking from head to toe, but she didn't remove her eyes from Montague. There seemed to be a stalemate between them all. Harry now had his wand out and was pointing it towards Graham, who was still towering over him holding him against the wall, and Graces was between Graham and himself, her wand now out. Graham lowered his wand from Neville and focused it back on Harry.

"Just wanted to have a bit of a chat. That's all," Graham said, lowering Harry down.

"Oh, obviously," Harry said. "This is how I start conversation."

Graham smiled in a way that made Neville push forward, but Graces moved with him, not allowing Neville to get too close.

"I just want to know, Potter. Why the Malfoys? What is it about these two that has you on them like a cat in heat?"

"Guess I have a thing for blondes," Harry quipped, his wand not moving despite Graham pocketing his own.

Montague nodded, his strong jaw highlighted by the granite like stubble of his chin.

"Yeah, they do have a way of getting under the skin, don't they? It's a talent of theirs." Graham's eyes raked up and down Graces in a way that had Neville's fist clenching. "Glad to know it's their hair color that has you following their every move and not your assumptions about their political status," Graham said, his eyes trailing back to Harry's. "Cause, the thing is, I think if it was that it would be a bit unfair of you to only be looking at them."

Neville wasn't sure what was happening. Why Montague was doing this, but he did know one thing. Graces did not like or approve of it.

"Should I be watching you?" Harry asked, stepping into the other boy's broad chest.

"Maybe. My uncle was at the Ministry with you, don't you remember? Your lot injured him."

Harry's eyes flicked to Graham's left arm.

"Go on, Potter. Ask. I dare you. Ask to see my arm."

Harry looked like he was about to, but before he could Neville spoke.

"Harry, this is Graham Montague. His sister was married to Terrance Higgs... He _had_ two nephews."

The flame that had been in Harry's eyes dimmed and he shuffled back, before weakly expressing his condolences. Graham's eyes were burning holes into Neville for a good minute before he turned them back to Harry.

"Leave the Malfoys be. I catch you so much as looking in Draco's direction, or Graces', I will personally make it my business to end you."

"I'm sorry, but I think it's _my_ business to watch the people who may be plotting to murder me. Thanks," Harry snapped.

Montague chuckled. "I'm going to let you in on a secret, Potter. Only one person is allowed to end the _Chosen One's_ life."

"Graham," Graces whispered.

Montague looked over at Graces and the blonde silenced her protests.

"You don't deserve this. He doesn't get to judge you and he sure as hell doesn't get to judge Draco."

Harry looked as though he were about to say something, but Graham turned back to him.

"I should have punched your lights out long before Longbottom here did, but I didn't. I won't make that mistake again. You will leave the Malfoys alone." Graham stepped away from Harry and moved over to where he had dropped the blonde's book. "You're an idiot for turning down Draco's friendship, Longbottom. A true fool."

Neville watched as the color in Graces' face drained. "What?"

"You didn't know? Draco offered Neville his friendship."

Graces turned to Neville and he did his best not to flinch under her stare.

"No, I did not." Her words cut through him like a sword.

"He did." Graham looked over at Neville for a brief moment before turning to leave. Graces stood there staring at Neville with a look of deep betrayal on her face. Neville didn't even care that Harry was there. He moved forward to touch her to try and explain, but the blonde moved back, her stare turning hateful and accusing.

"Graces—"

"Keep away from me, Longbottom. I mean it. Stay the hell away from me!"

Graces hurried over to where Graham stood in the hall waiting for her, and even from this distance Neville could practically feel the rage rolling off her.

He knew now was the time to leave well enough alone. He could owl her later saying he wanted to talk to her, but he found himself calling her name now and demanding that she talk to him. At first she didn't turn around. She walked in sync with Montague who looked back a few times, perplexed at Neville's anger, but eventually the blonde whipped around and Neville braced himself for the tantrum to come.

"We have nothing—NOTHING—to say to one another."

"I think we have plenty to say to one another," Neville hissed, careful to keep his voice down to keep Harry and Graham, who kept their distance, from hearing.

"We don't! We're not friends, Longbottom. And you most certainly are not my boyfriend, so stop acting like it! Leave. Me. Alone!" She turned to leave, but Neville circled around stopping her.

"You meet me tonight to talk," he whispered, practically shaking with rage.

"No way in hell," Graces growled. "Draco offered you his friendship?" Neville took a step back as the blonde shoved him. "And you turned it down? You insulted him like that?" Another shove. "You insulted me like that?" Neville grunted as Graces pushed him again. "If you're not a friend of my brother, you sure as hell aren't a friend of mine."

She went to shove him again, but Neville caught her wrists, holding them tightly above her elbows.

"Graces," he started slowly, honing his own temper in. "We are a mess of dysfunction. A serious mess," Neville repeated, meeting the blonde squarely in the eyes. "But one thing we do not do—one thing I will not tolerate—is you touching me in anger."

Graces had a flash of defiance to her face before she yanked her arms away, defeated by his words. She stared at him for a long moment before trying to push past him. Neville held her back, his hand catching her arm, as he leaned in close to her ear.

"I'm a good man," he whispered. "Slow to anger, quick to forgive. Maybe not the smartest, but hardworking. And maybe not the strongest, but courageous. And I love you, Graces. I love you."

"I'm a good man," Neville repeated. "And I'm sorry that's not enough for you. I'm sorry that the only way you can accept my love is if my arm bears the cost of my soul. I hope you will meet me tonight. That you will calm down and see what a mistake you're making and choose to talk to me rather than end something that has been so good."

He released her arm and she glanced over at him for a quick heartbeat before moving forward. The older Slytherin looked at them in confusion before accepting her under his arm and escorting her away.

Neville turned to see Harry staring at him, just as confused as Montague was with the exchange. Harry ran his hands through his hair as he clearly tried to decide what question to ask first.

"Did you know Graces buried Graham's sister and nephews?" Neville asked, rushing past his friend so he didn't have to look him in the eye. "That small act of brutality towards you was probably a long time coming." Harry shook his head in confusion and Neville continued on, leaving Harry to try and catch up to the conversation at hand. "After I, uh, hit you, Draco offered me his friendship. Said I could sit with him for breakfast, but I know enough of pureblood politics to know that sitting with him would mean, well, an act against you. And I didn't want to be on that side of the war."

"And, uh, Graces was angry because..."

"We were sort of friends," Neville lied, unsure of how else to explain it. "She never would admit to it, but we were. Guess that's over now."

"You two were sort of friends," Harry said skeptically.

"That bet really was friendly. When we were alone together she was different. We talked a bit, bantered. When I asked her out that was not out of nowhere. I was hoping that maybe she would put aside all the stupid political nonsense and... It was stupid, a stupid romantic gesture. I mean, she would talk with me when we were alone, but if people were around she acted like we never had a conversation. I should have known where I stood."

Neville was surprised at how easily he was able to lie now, and a little worried about how easily he could put them together. Harry was silent for a moment before speaking.

"When you two were racing on the Quidditch pitch?"

"She momentarily forgot she was supposed to hate me in public," Neville laughed.

"Do you think she fancies you?"

Neville raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised by Harry's perception.

"No, she pretty much hates my guts at the moment. Maybe she started to, I can be very charming," Neville grinned, in a way that told Harry how he actually felt about himself and charming was far from the word. "But no, not anymore. I insulted her brother. Graces is not a forgiving being and she loves her brother. Me turning down his friendship was... unforgivable." Even as he said it he prayed it wasn't true.

"When she tutored you... she really did talk to you, didn't she?"

Neville shrugged and realized he was going to have to give Harry a bit more information than he wanted to.

"Like I said, mostly friendly banter, but, every once in awhile, she would actually talk to me."

"What about?"

"Things..." Neville murmured vaguely, finding interest in the floor.

"Yeah, but what—"

"Harry," Neville cut in, looking up. "I'm pretty positive she doesn't want me telling you or anyone else about our conversations."

"So, uh, if you two were getting along then why did she stop tutoring you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Neville asked. "I asked her out. In public. I think when I did that she realized we shouldn't be friends."

Harry was silent for a long time.

"Is there more, Neville? Because it feels like there is more and you just don't want to tell me."

It was a heavy question, one of those questions that he knew could absolve him or damn him to hell if the truth ever came out. He thought about telling him, laying everything out in front of him and telling Harry that he loved her and that she wanted a future with him, but he couldn't give it to her on her terms. He wanted to tell Harry he didn't betray him, that he just loved her and something that was this wonderful couldn't be wrong.

"There isn't anything more, Harry. I wish there was, but there isn't."

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Graham eyed Graces as she hurried through the halls, her mind clearly going a million miles an hour. There was no point in her trying to hide her feelings and there was no point in his pretending that this wasn't an interesting scene unfolding in front of him.

The blonde stopped abruptly in the hall and whirled around to him, tears smearing across her face.

"I really thought he—" Graces stopped and took a breathe. "I thought he was my friend, Graham. I really thought he cared about me. I-I wanted him to be my friend."

"Is that all?" Graham asked carefully.

Graces looked at him for a moment, her face scrunched up against the emotions she didn't want to feel.

"I cared about him," she sobbed, covering her mouth. "I personally cared about him and he-he—"

"He doesn't owe you his loyalty, Graces," Graham reminded. "He made his choice about the war long before you two began this... _friendship_."

Graces glanced up at him at his last word.

"It's not romantic."

Graham remained silent, knowing it was better to let the guilty be harassed by silence.

"If I wanted Neville Longbottom, I would tell you. Who would be better to tell! How could you possibly judge me! At least Neville is a pure blood! He's not some veela/witch/siren hybrid—"

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"Sirens," Graham began slowly, carefully. "Have not been around for centuries. They were all killed. Slaughtered by the muggle and wizarding world. All of them. Every single one, hunted down and—"

"Oh, don't pretend like you didn't know! Look at those eyes! Those are siren eyes, Graham! An ocean at sunset eyes! Everyone knew the rumors that not all the sirens were killed! That some went to live with their sister species the veelas and the harpies! Hiding in numbers, never mating with other sirens, so that their offspring's traits favored others and not themselves. Damn it, Graham, look at her! She's an eighth veela, her mother and father are both witches and wizards but those eyes speak volumes of what lies somewhere in her heritage! Maybe everyone else has forgotten the stories about sirens, but my family has not. We were one of the very few who hunted them, and my grandfather always said you can tell by the eyes and the eyes alone. I guarantee if she so much as whistled a tune in the halls all the men would be struck with love."

The room was moving and the world had picked up its speed. He tried to regain what remained of his senses, but the only thing that came to him was Wamil's eyes and that thought made the world spin faster and faster. He took a step back and looked up as Graces' hand firmly balanced him.

"Graham?"

"I need you to be silent, Graces. I need you to be silent as I remember you buried my sister. My nephews. That you gave me a deal, so that I wouldn't have to marry you, but got the money I needed to create a business and gain respect from my family. I am reminding myself of how you have suffered, how Draco is suffering and telling myself that you knew this about Wamil and chose to stay silent this long. I am telling myself that this is not a threat, but you pointing out I have no ability to judge your choices, but I need you to be silent Graces. Because I'm scared of what you would do, or say and how that could kill—Merlin, you have the ability to kill her without ever touching her."

Graham yanked away. "If people knew. If one person knew! If a rumor got out about—"

"No one is going to know, Graham," Graces swore, holding his shoulders steady. "I'm not going to say a word." She was silent for a moment. "But people will eventually find out. The right people just need to see her."

Graham ground his teeth and wished his silent denial could truly change what he knew to be the truth. He turned his attention back to Graces.

"You won't tell?"

"Of course not," Graces sighed.

Graham nodded and looked up at her for a long while. "I won't either."

"I don't know what you're referring to."

"Yeah, you do."

"Graham, I don't know what you think you saw, but—"

Graham raised his hand to stop Graces from continuing her lies. "Just remember, Graces, your family still believes in honor killings."

Graces was quiet for a moment before declaring that she was in love with Thomas.

"I pray to the gods above that is true. Because Longbottom will never happen, Graces. It could never happen."

"Wamil could never happen."

Graham narrowed his eyes. "Thus I keep my distance. I advise you to do the same. Today could have ended quite differently for you if someone else had seen that display and put two and two together."

"There is nothing happening," Graces proclaimed, her voice strong despite the fear he could see in her eyes. "It's Neville Longbottom for Merlin's sake. _Neville Longbottom_."

"As you said earlier I have no room to judge. At least Longbottom is pure. Seven hells, if he had agreed to switch sides no one would even argue the match," Graham realized, a little astonished himself. Neville had even earned himself some semblance of respect from the Slytherins after helping Graces when she was hurt, giving his family's vote for Thomas and punching Harry Potter in front of the whole school. And there was no denying his valiancy... _Still a bumbling fool though._

Graces made some noise of frustration before once again declaring that he was wrong. She pushed past him and stomped her way to the Room of Requirement, shooting him a nasty look every few hallways. She was just about to enter the room when Graham took her hand.

"We can't help who we want," he said carefully, being as gentle as possible with his words and his hand holding hers. "But we can choose our actions, Graces. If something was going on between you and Longbottom now is a perfect time to end it, because frankly people will find out and when the wrong people do you will be in too much trouble to save. You and your family are too intertwined, even if Draco understood he couldn't let this stand. You're being stupid, Graces. Really stupid. You're not thinking straight. You are putting your life and your family's safety in danger. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"I'm not doing anything of the sort."

"Graces, I know last time I lost my temper with you. I know I was more zealous. But you need to hear me. Really hear me. You will die if you continue anything. You will. Because if Draco can't bring himself to do what needs to be done should you be caught, I will." She jerked away, but Graham held her firmly. "It's not that I want to. It's that I don't want Draco to suffer for your actions. Nor do I want you to suffer."

"Because you would be made to suffer, Graces," he said gently, turning her chin up.

"Am I supposed to appreciate you promising to kill me?" Graces asked venomously.

"What you should be appreciating is my silence. Just as I greatly have appreciated your silence for me." She was glaring at him with so much hatred he was surprised she hadn't bored a hole through his skull. "You two seemed done in that hall, let it be finished."

He released her arm to let her go, but the blonde didn't move. He watched as she wrestled with her own inner demon, before pitifully proclaiming. "I don't love him."

Graham didn't say anything. It didn't make sense for Graces to risk so much for someone who meant so little.

"I don't," she whispered. "I never let it go that far."

"But it has gone far," Graham surmised.

Graces opened her mouth and closed it promptly. She seemed to be trying to figure out that herself.

"No," she decided, shaking her head. "No." Graham waited for an explanation. "I wanted it to though," she admitted. "I asked him to take the Mark. I begged him to, so we could be together. So that I could—" she paused and looked up at him deciding not to finish her last sentence. "I told him if he refused we could never be together, that I was done."

Graham didn't need Graces to tell him what Longbottom's answer was, and he pulled the blonde into his chest as she sobbed against him. He wished he could tell her that he thought Neville a fool for his decision, but he couldn't bring himself to speak such a lie. Longbottom was better off. And Graces was better off too.

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All around him was darkness. Draco gripped his wand tightly and spun around, hoping to find even a small glimpse of more. He tried again to use Lumos, but just like before his words were silent and the spell fell into the darkness. The only sound around him that he could hear was his heart beat. It echoed through the darkness, growing grander and quicker with every second of his panic.

He moved forward in the darkness, arms outstretched, waving in the emptiness for something, anything. He didn't know when it started, but somewhere during his aimless search a ticking began. He paused as he heard the sound of the clock race with his heartbeat and he moved faster, desperate to find anything to give him even a hint as to where he was.

He searched, arms waving, body turning this way and that. In his desperation he fell, his feet met with something soft and he laid on the ground breathing in the dust from the—wooden?—floors. He had no doubts about what he had fallen over. He sat up slowly and reached his shaking hands against the grain of the wood until his fingers met with something. He paused and allowed his mind to catch up with his senses to decipher what it was he was feeling.

Hair. Soft long hair.

He shot up from the ground and backed into a wall and suddenly the room he was in was illuminated, but it wasn't a room. It was the cabinet. He was sealed in the small cabinet and a body was tightly tucked away in there with him. He moved to turn the body around, already knowing from the long blonde hair who it was, but just before he could see the face he was pulled away.

"Draco. It's okay. It's okay," a familiar voice soothed, his words working against the adrenaline filling Draco's veins.

Draco relaxed slightly under the weight of Graham's hand on his shoulder.

"Your sister is here," he murmured lowly, his breath hot on his ear. "Calm down. All is well. You don't want her to see you like this."

Draco's fingers gently brushed over Graham's, ensuring he was real, and he took a steadying breath though his heart continued to pound in his chest.

"Where is she?" he rasped, his mouth dry from however long sleep had taken him.

"Feeding the birds. I can hear her finishing though. So do us both a favor and pretend to be the usual cup of tea you are when you wake."

"Has anyone ever told you, Montague, that your breath is horrid?"

Graham smirked and stood up, casually making sure to mess up Draco's hair for the slight. Draco scowled and moved his hand to hit the other boy's, but Graham just laughed and rudely kicked his chair forcing him to sit up from where his head rested on the table.

"I swear, you two should be the ones talking of marriage." Graces scoffed, placing some parchment and books on the table he had been sleeping at and kissing him chastely. "I think you and Graham would be better suited for life with one another than he and I."

"Draco isn't able to bear me an heir," Graham countered dryly, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Maybe if your breath smelled better I would at least entertain the idea of trying."

Graham paused in his sip and glared over his teacup at him, but Draco grinned at the uneasiness that flashed across his face and knew the older boy was wondering if he was serious.

"My breath is fine," Graham decided, taking a sip and damning him with the same breath.

Graces gave him a disapproving look, but Draco just smirked. "Not my fault he's so self-conscious."

"If you're done being an arse, I have an announcement," Graham declared irritatedly. Draco fell silent and both he and Graces waited on the edge of their seats to know more. Unlike them who stayed within the confines of Hogwarts, Graham met regularly with others from the inner circle.

"As you well know Nott is in charge of monitoring Draco's task." Both twins nodded. "Well," Graham grinned pridefully, "not anymore. From this moment forward it is to be me."

"How?" Graces asked.

"Does it matter?"

"It does." Graham looked over to Draco, shocked at the deadliness in his voice.

"My life is not at risk," Graham reassured, his eyes meeting Draco's levelly. "Graces will be safe no matter what the outcomes."

"There is only one outcome. Draco will succeed, with our help," Graces said pointedly, her hand reaching out and taking Draco's.

Draco stole a glance at his sister's face before looking back to Graham. Both boys lived under no delusions of what was ahead and though they worked hard towards the best they accepted the outcome of failure.

"Nott was proven... less than capable of a recent task," Graham answered diplomatically. "I was much better suited. When I was successful, Nott was begrudging." Graham smiled. "I of course didn't mind taking him down a few more pegs in front of our Lord. Which led to me suggesting that perhaps he is ill suited for this task."

Draco could see from the corner of his eye Graces smiling brilliantly and did his best to show the same appreciation, though he knew this was not as simple as it appeared. He looked over to his friend and saw confirmation in his eyes that there was far more than he was willing to say in front of Graces.

They worked endlessly the rest of the day until the sunset and their eyes could hardly read the text of their books. Really they had only gained more knowledge of what was not to be done with the cabinet, but Graces was insistent that it was progress all the same.

"You're not going to bed?" Draco asked, finding it unusual how Graces was still with the two of them so late. Usually, well past this time, she would ask to be escorted back to the dorms to sleep.

Graces frowned and looked at the two boys hovering oddly.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked, clearly surprised at the idea.

Draco looked over to Graham standing behind where Graces sat.

"Graham and I—"

"Do you have something to talk about?" Graces asked, turning to Graham.

"We just like to talk privately at night," Graham said.

It wasn't a total lie. He and Graham usually broke out a bottle of something once he got back from walking Graces to the common room and, though Graham usually preferred to drink in silence, discussion came up more often than not.

Graces looked to Draco, her identical eyes searching his for an answer. "It's nice talking just the two of us."

She could see through the lie, he knew she was able to, but for some reason when she turned back to look at Graham she didn't fight to know why. Draco stood to walk her to the common room, but Graham insisted he would do it tonight.

"Break out the good stuff, would you?"

Draco nodded and found a bottle and some glasses. The Room of Requirement had truly been turned into an office of sorts for him and Graham. Their own things had slowly gathered here and there to the point where both of them rarely needed to go to their dorms. He heard the soft click of the door closing and knew Graham had returned.

Draco didn't turn at Graham's return and instead poured himself a healthy glass of mead.

"So, it wasn't that simple I take it."

"No, it was," Graham said softly, staying near the door.

"But there is something."

"There is."

"Are you going to tell me?" Draco asked, turning around angrily, already weary from having to wait this long.

Graham hesitated. "You should finish your drink first."

Draco tensed his jaw, before downing his drink in one swift movement and waiting.

"What a waste of good mead," Graham sighed, leaning back against the door and not meeting Draco's eyes.

"Talk."

Graham closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths before walking to where Draco was standing.

"The Dark Lord is displeased. As I'm sure you know. He grows impatient... and angry." There was a long pause, in which Draco withheld his counter of what else was knew. "You are to be punished, Draco. By my hand." Draco took an impulsive step back. "I'm sorry. There is nothing to be done. Our _Lord_ has also requested my memory from the task."

"Meaning he expects it to be brutal."

"He does," Graham said solemnly. "You have a choice, though."

"Oh?" Draco asked, with ill feigned interest.

"Whip or Cruciatus."

"Do I get to be healed after?" The look on Graham's face answered his question. "Then the latter. My sister would notice the first, and gods above and below know she will never forgive or marry you if she knew you tortured me."

Graham nodded and reached for his glass which Draco promptly snatched from his hand.

"I think I need this more than you."


	81. Chapter 81

Neville waited patiently at his desk for Graces to arrive. He had come to Herbology exceptionally early, not even bothering to eat breakfast. Not that he wanted any lately, he was praying that he might have an opportunity to talk with her. She was angry, there was no doubting that after their encounter just the day before, but surely she would have calmed down. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and again justified his reasoning for not taking Graces' words regarding their break up to heart.

She had his mother's ring. She had not given it back, and he knew if they were truly done she would.

She didn't continue pushing him after he scolded her. If they were truly done she wouldn't care.

She stopped Montague from decking him.

She wanted to discuss marriage. Neville paused at the last thought. She was an interesting character, no doubt, to want to discuss marriage when there was no love on her part. To be able to bring it up one second and walk out the next. He sighed and dipped his forehead into his palm. There would never be a dull moment, that's for sure, he thought, imagining a life with Graces by his side.

He quickly turned as he heard footsteps directly behind him and almost groaned aloud when he saw Hermione.

"Can we talk?" she pleaded moving to take the seat next to him. Neville pushed the stool in under the desk in reply. "Neville, please."

He turned away and faced the front of the room, but Hermione wasn't so easily pushed away. She rounded the desk so that she was standing in front, making it impossible for him to avoid her.

"Neville, I am sorry," she started softly. "Truly, I am."

Neville turned his eyes away from her gentle brown ones and focused on his calloused hands.

"I want you to leave."

She reached out to touch him, only to have him yank his hands away as though they were burned.

"It was an invasion. I know that," Hermione continued, doing her best to hide the tightness in her voice. "You're right to be angry, Neville. So right to be. I've been thinking about it and- and I would be angry too. That night was ever so private and I never should have been there. Never."

He remained silent, not even allowing her to think he heard her.

"I'm just worried about you," Hermione exclaimed, her voice breaking with emotion. "You're my friend. A very dear one to me if you are willing to believe," she added. "So dear, Neville. You're the first magical child I ever met, remember? And from the moment you met me you've always been kind and-and we've always got on. And I've always looked out for you. Always. Since the day I helped you find Trevor on the train to when I was whispering instructions in potions. I look out for you."

Neville ignored the way her words tugged at his heart and focused on his breathing, making each intake of breath so shallow it wasn't even noticeable that he was breathing.

"And you looked out for me." Hermione hiccuped. "You carried me limp and unconscious in the ministry last year. You kept me out of harm. And you visited me in the hospital wing when I was recovering from Dolohov's curse. You sent me flowers a few times and wrote me asking how I was doing with all the potions." Neville brought his knuckles to his mouth and closed his eyes, wishing he could just not hear her. "I was just trying to look out for you."

He knew what she was saying was the truth, and that she sincerely was trying to do just that, but he couldn't let this stand. Let this go. He felt her hand on his shoulder and jumped from his chair to put distance between them.

"Leave."

"Neville."

"Leave," he repeated, still not looking at her.

He could hear the sounds of students approaching and was even more miserable with the knowledge that he wouldn't have much opportunity to speak with Graces privately. Hermione didn't turn away though, she stood there even as the first few students trickled in.

"You're being a fool," she whispered angrily, coming close so that she wouldn't be overheard. "She doesn't love you, Neville. She said so herself. But I do and so do many others around you. And we would never ask for you to—"

"I want nothing to do with you," Neville lashed out angrily. "Nothing. You spied on me and then insulted me and the woman I love. Now leave. Leave not because I'm angry with you, but because I don't want you anywhere near her. She has no idea about you being there and so my anger at you has to account for her violation as well. Leave."

"I know you didn't tell Harry and—"

"No, and I don't plan to," Neville interrupted.

"I think that's a mistake," Hermione continued, moving to leave as she spoke. "I do, Neville. We'll talk later."

Neville shook his head and moved to his chair, stopping only when he felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder.

"I won't just leave you alone, Neville. Whether you believe me or not, I care and you are my friend. I won't just abandon you, no matter how nasty you are towards me."

Neville didn't respond, just sharply shook his arm away and took his seat. It wasn't long after that when Graces arrived. He expected to be ignored or for her to give him a scathing look, but she did none of that. She nodded to him politely, acknowledging his presence, and took her seat as though nothing had happened.

Neville sat there for a moment sincerely perplexed before asking her if she was no longer angry with him.

"Why on earth would I be angry with you?" Graces asked, a small furrow in her brow.

Neville was about to answer, but Professor Sprout began speaking and he was forced to at least pretend to pay attention in class. He kept glancing at the girl next to him, hoping for a real sign as to how she felt, but the blonde gave nothing away. She wrote her notes, made her diagrams and only spoke to him if she had a question or comment regarding the class. It was unsettling.

Professor Sprout reminded them to brush up on an older chapter to help with an upcoming project and finally dismissed the class. Neville was still trying to figure out what to say to Graces when the blonde spoke first.

"Longbottom," Graces started, her voice betraying no hint of malice. "If you would rather we could trade seats next class. That way you're not bumping your arm on mine whenever you write a note. I really won't mind at all."

Neville was struck dumb momentarily by Graces' words and then everything made sense. She pulled her book bag over her arm and nodded him a goodbye, but Neville stood abruptly and stopped her.

"You don't get to do that," he hissed angrily.

"Do what?" Graces asked, sounding surprised at his outburst, as though he truly had no reason to treat her with such hostility.

"Pretend like nothing has ever happened between us. Act as though I am a toy that you can easily put down. Like I never mattered, like what happened between us never mattered."

Graces' jaw tightened and she pressed forward trying to leave as though his words didn't speak to her. He stopped her again, not bothering to even try to keep appearances. Professor Sprout scowled from across the greenhouse at his actions and put down a plant she was holding.

"You're making a scene," Graces said quietly, her eyes glowering at him.

"This isn't a scene, if you want I'll show you a scene," Neville threatened, his hands still tight on her arms. Graces' cheeks reddened with anger and the Gryffindor was happy to see that there was acknowledgment in her eyes.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to talk."

"There's no point. Unless you take the Mark, this is as much as we can be together. _Cordial_." She stated, narrowing her eyes and saying the last word with such emphasis it made him wonder if there was more meaning in it.

This time he couldn't stop her as she pushed past him. Professor Sprout even had to move as Graces tore away from the scene. The herbology professor stared at him, asking silently for an explanation, but Neville gave her none and looked down as he too rushed out of the greenhouse.

The rest of Neville's day followed the tone from the morning. He received a detention in Muggle Studies for being late and a scolding in each class leading up to lunch for not being able to pay attention. Hermione kept glancing over at him throughout the day and had even tried to corner him a few times between classes, but he was always able to snake through the people in the hall and lose her.

It was during this winding through students though that he caught sight of Luna. She was dreamily strolling to her next class, skipping every few steps as though she were purposely jumping over something when he called out to her. She smiled serenely at his attention and waiting for him to come close.

"Can we have lunch together today?" he asked, almost desperately.

"Oh yes," Luna grinned. "I was going to sit with you anyways while I visited with Ginny."

"Do you mind not visiting with Ginny and just sitting with me privately?"

Luna seemed to now notice his sense of urgency and nodded slowly, her huge eyes turning solemn for a brief moment.

"Is all well?" she asked, leaning in so that the butterbeer necklace around her neck brushed against his arm. Neville shook his head. She stared at him pityingly and then brushed her fingers through his hair. He tensed at the touch and blushed as people passed by, luckily most were used to Luna's odd ways, but still he felt odd, like she was seeing something he couldn't see. "Meet me in the stairway for lunch. I enjoy eating there. I'll bring lunch to you."

Neville was so relieved. He smiled genuinely and hurried away. He could talk to Luna, tell her about the date, Hermione, Graces' request, all of it. She wouldn't judge. He knew she wouldn't. He doubted she would have any real advice, but she was a comfort at least.

The last hour of classes passed so slowly. While he waited at the base of the staircase, Graces, Draco and Graham passed by together, but only Graham looked his way. He stared at Neville too long for comfort. Neville wasn't sure how to react to such attentions from the older boy and nodded his head slightly in greeting, but Montague ignored him and just continued on with his staring. He didn't turn away until Thomas came up beside him, after that the burly boy turned his attention to quiet conversation before they all disappeared to the Great Hall.

When Luna finally appeared they went up the staircase and sat down on some stairs near the fifth floor. Neville didn't really delight in the movement of the staircase while they sat, but he didn't complain. Luna clearly enjoyed this as a lunch spot.

"Aren't they beautiful?" she asked, handing him some chocolate frogs and licorice and revealing that lunch was nothing but sweets. He was glad he hadn't been hungry, though he knew he should be. He had hardly eaten since Graces walked out.

"What?" he asked, taking the sweets from Luna and fiddling with the wrapper for the licorice wrap.

"The paintings. They're such great company," she said breathlessly. "I try to sit on different stairs often to give them all attention, but there are just so many. The movement of the staircase will sometimes take me away right in the middle of a conversation too."

Neville smiled gently at Luna's words and decided that Luna was probably the most endearing soul he knew.

"I love you too, Neville." Neville raised his brows at her before stating that he had said nothing. "You didn't need to," Luna grinned, taking a bite of some ice mice and leaning back against the stones.

"So what's happened? I thought you and Graces were doing well. Didn't the date go well?"

Neville signed, he had been planning this date for so long, he had told Luna every detail of his plan, he imagined she would be just as disappointed in how it turned out as he had been.

"It did," he revealed awkwardly. "Just didn't end well."

"Did you not make love?"

"No, we did," Neville flushed, wondering why it was that Luna seemed to be interested in that aspect of his relationship with Graces. She had asked a few odd questions here and there over the past few months regarding his sexual relationship with the blonde.

"Was it not good?"

Neville laughed. "No, it was good."

"The best?"

Neville narrowed his eyes. "Why do you insist on asking me about this? I never tell you any details."

"I enjoy how uncomfortable it makes you," Luna revealed smiling serenely. "It's also funny when you refuse to answer."

"So this is your way of teasing me?"

"It is," Luna grinned, eating a chocolate frog happily.

Neville shook his head but didn't scold her. He supposed if he was telling his guy friends they would be teasing him in close to the same manner.

"So if the date was good and you two even made love, why is anything wrong?"

Neville sighed and leaning against the stairs. He chewed the inside of his cheek before telling Luna everything. For the most part she listened in silence, aside from a few questions here and there, but when he got to what Graces asked she seemed to be at a loss for words.

"I refused," Neville revealed quietly, looking down at his hands. "I refused and—and I think I broke her heart, Luna. She cried and begged me to reconsider. When I refused she got pretty nasty. Really cruel. I don't even want to repeat the things she said to me. She says we're over."

"Are you not?"

"No, she's just trying to manipulate me. I think she is withdrawing in order to sway my decision."

"Why do you think that?"

"She... she has a ring I gave her. Well, loaned her. I know if she truly wanted to part ways she would give it back."

Luna nodded, and stared up at a portrait of knights eating around the table.

"It must have been very hard for her to ask you to do such a thing," she whispered. "Frightening even."

"What do you mean?"

"It reveals so much about her, don't you think? How she feels regarding you, regarding her life. She must feel so trapped."

Neville held his breath to try and regather his own emotions. Luna once again had proven to be exactly who he needed. Hermione always seemed to be annoyed by the Ravenclaw's airy ways, but he wished she would take a lesson from her.

"That's not all," Neville said tightly. "Hermione was there as well."

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"Well, now we know that didn't work," Graham deadpanned.

Draco stared at the small lifeless bird laying in the cabinet. Unable to tear his eyes away from the corpse. It was alive and now it was dead. All in a matter of seconds. He had enchanted the cabinet, thinking that the spell he had found would work, and decided to test it using one of the birds in the cage. He decided.

_I killed it._ His heart raced a little faster and the same feeling that had pooled in his stomach when Katie Bell had been hurt was starting to spread throughout him again.

"Draco." He turned around to find Graham staring down at him. "It was an accident. And it was only a bird."

"I know that," Draco snapped, pulling away from Graham's hand on his shoulder.

Graham said nothing, just continued watching him with those knowing eyes.

"I'm just tired," he lied, slamming the cabinet closed so he wouldn't have to look any longer.

"Shall we wake Graces then and go to bed?"

Draco looked over at his sister curled up on the floor with old pillows that the room had decided to offer her once her eyes wouldn't stay open any longer.

"No, I think I'll stay here for a bit longer," he said quietly, turning back to his desk. Graham nodded and moved to wake Graces to take her to the dungeons. "Leave her," Draco called over his shoulder. "She's fine to stay here with me."

"Are you sure?"

Draco turned so he was facing the older boy. "Yeah, I'm sure, but thank you."

Graham nodded and started gathering his own things to leave.

"I want her to finish school," Draco declared, still looking at his sister worlds away in sleep. "Promise me that."

Graham was silent for a few moments, pausing in his packing. "I can't," he breathed, pulling himself up and rubbing his head as though he were getting a headache and knew this conversation to be coming. "I'm sorry, but I can only promise her life."

"She needs a proper education," Draco argued.

"I'll need a proper wife and I'll need to be a proper husband. I can't protect her if she is miles away from me and I only see her on holidays."

"She won't need protecting then!" Draco snarled.

"You're naive if you believe that."

"She's too smart to just bear your children. You know that."

"I do," Graham acknowledged, dipping his head slightly so Draco couldn't make out what he was thinking. "But Hogwarts will be wasted on her after you pass. She won't care to learn, Draco. She will be a storm of despair. I doubt she will ever truly get over losing you," he murmured sadly. "She will mourn you until the day she dies."

Draco held his breath to hold in his own emotions.

"She should be home with me," Graham continued. "We can seek each other out for comfort. She shouldn't be here. She'll only feel more alone here. You and her family will be gone and she would be expected to take tests and concentrate, it's unfair to ask her to do that."

"So you want her to waste away in her despair? Lay in bed all day and cry?" He could have strangled Graham if he hadn't come to love him.

"No... I've made arrangements with Thomas."

Draco stilled at Graham's words.

"He has agreed that Graces and I should raise his son while he is in school," Graham revealed. "I thought it would be best for everyone. Graces will have a reason to get out of bed in the morning and Thomas' heir will not be raised by a squib."

It hurt. It all hurt so much. Draco sat down on the vacant chair and tried to hold in all the pain he was feeling.

"Draco," Graham breathed, moving close.

"Thank you," the blonde bit out tightly. "I'm fine, just go."

Graham seemed torn between staying and obeying Draco's orders, but in the end he left. Draco wondered if it was only because he was uncomfortable with emotion, or if it was because the older boy himself seemed to be on the brink of tears as well.

He sat there trying to regain his emotions, but he couldn't. It was all crashing down on him. He couldn't breathe without his whole body shaking from tears. He stood up and left the room, abandoning his sister sleeping on the floor. He tried to imagine her life without him, the life Graham described. He wanted her to be happy, to live like death and suffering had never touched her, but he didn't want to be forgotten. He wanted to be there for it all. He wanted to be there for her marriage, for her raising Octavian. For her own children. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live.

He pushed through the doors of the girls lavatory on the first floor and immediately cried out for Myrtle. He didn't have to wait long before the ghost was before him, perplexed to see him in such a state. Draco didn't even bother to move into a stall, like he usually did to talk with her, he fell to his knees and sobbed in his palms, like a sinner begging forgiveness to their lord.

He could hardly catch enough breath to speak, but through his tears he finally managed one feeble sentence. "I killed a bird."

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Wamil sat before herself in the mirror, staring at every detail of her face like she never had before. Her whole life she was made to avoid vanity, told it was better to keep her eyes downcast, to dress simply, to leave her hair lifeless. They wanted to protect her: her parents, her brothers. Veela were tolerated, Sirens...

Her father had never told her mother when they married that he was descended from Sirens. He hadn't thought he would ever need to either. Boys and only boys had been born for generations, the gift unable to be given. She wondered sometimes if her parents wished they had stopped at four healthy boys. Her mother swore they didn't. She had said again and again that she needed a girl, that they wanted her to be a girl.

She was loved and she was cherished, but she could see the anxiety that she brought to her family. As best they tried to hide it, it was there. They didn't allow music in the house. They didn't mingle much with people outside their families, and when she was accepted into Hogwarts they drilled it into her head she was not to draw attention to herself. The relief they had when she was sorted into Hufflepuff was immense. Hufflepuff was accepting, accepting and loyal; if her secret was found none would give her up.

"So when do you meet him?" Her friend teased, smiling with the rest of her dorm mates from their beds.

She blushed. "I don't know what you mean."

"You're a piss poor liar, Wamil." Another girl laughed. "I've never in all our seven years of schooling seen you put your hair up and wear an outfit that fit you properly."

She blushed and turned away. "I look foolish, don't I?"

"You look lovely," she corrected, sitting up from the bed. "Truly, you do."

On some level she knew that to be true, she was naturally beautiful, beauty she had always tried to conceal, but she still felt foolish. "Thanks," she murmured, smoothing her hair back again and wondering at how big her eyes looked.

"I would kill for your eyes," Trish proclaimed, coming forward and looking at them through the vanity mirror.

"You and your fascination with my eyes."

"Don't be daft, the whole house is fascinated by your eyes," Trish snorted. "Not everyday you see someone who has eyes like yours."

_Like an ocean sunset,_ shethought quietly.

"Don't you like them?"

"I love them," Wamil admitted, turning away from her reflection.

"Then show them off more often."

They didn't understand. They all assumed they were Veela eyes. Admittedly there were some Veela that had the same, but only because there was Siren in them. The Veela had done a lot to save their sister race. Now after generations of mating the characteristic was thought to be Veela, not Siren, but some remembered.

"Are you going to tell us who you are meeting?"

"No, I'm not," Wamil smiled, standing up and smoothing out the pink and gold fabric of her sari. She never wore such things usually, not when she wasn't home, but it flattered her and she wanted to wear it tonight. She really was being foolish. "I'll see you all later."

She left the room nodding uncomfortably to all the flattering comments her friends were giving her, as though they sensed she needed the reassurance. She ran into another classmate in the hall, he seemed to be heading for bed after the library, he paused at her appearance before awkwardly complimenting her.

"Thanks." She tried to hurry by without further discussion.

"You should do that more often. Put your hair up," he called out as she put some distance between them.

"Maybe I will."

"Oh and Wamil!" She groaned inwardly but turned around. "Don't think I won't be teasing you mercilessly at breakfast tomorrow. Sneaking out past curfew all dressed up. How scandalous. I may even owl your brothers."

"You will do no such thing!"

He grinned at her mischievously before walking away, she knew he wouldn't tell though. He just enjoyed being cheeky. Still she was not looking forward to the teasing. And she was partners with him in a few classes, so the teasing really would be relentless.

When she finally reached the classroom she was to meet him in she paused outside the door. The orange glow of the dungeon torches flicked around her and the world seemed to still. She once again wondered what she was doing.

She had ignored Graham Montague's letters for most of the week, deciding she was better off without him, but when he cornered her Wednesday night after dinner and physically handed her the letter she could no longer ignore his request. And if she was being honest she never really wanted to to begin with.

There was something between them. She knew it was there despite his efforts and even her own to ignore it, to let it wither and die. She could always feels his eyes on her: in class, the courtyard, at meals. Rarely she had caught him looking at her, he was very good at concealing his stares, but she knew he was looking. It was like a 6th sense, she could feel him.

She had convinced herself for a while she was imagining it, that she just found him mysterious and made up this idea of his attention, but there were instances over the years that slowly confirmed it was not in her head.

Like the Yule Ball when he gave her his coat to wear when she was out in the gardens with a group of her friends. Her date at the time was taking out his wand to perform a warming spell, but before he could she had felt the warmth of Graham's coat around her. She didn't even have to look back to know it was him placing the coat on her. She couldn't even breathe when it happened. She was too stunned for words of thanks as well. His knuckles had lingered longer than appropriate on the neck and when she looked up at him he was glaring hatefully at the Ravenclaw who had taken her to the ball before coldly stating "Etiquette dictates you give the lady your coat and use a warming charm for yourself."

The next day when she went to give him the coat back he snatched it from her before she could finish thanking him. But the next year when she replaced Cedric on the Quidditch team and Goyle had tried to purposely knock her off her broom he had come to her rescue, securing her from falling and then mercilessly laying into Goyle. Their team had scored multiple points due to their captain yelling at their Beater and not allowing him to actually play until he was done making his point. She was off limits.

And then he went about his life, acting as though she were invisible and when, after years of pining, she finally tried, he lashed out at her. She moved away from the door. What was the point in entering? What did she think was going to happen? She knew what she hoped for, but it seemed so stupid to hope for such things now. She had begun to hope earlier and ended up looking foolish. She didn't want to be that person again.

She looked down at her clothes and thought about the time she spent getting ready and realized she was already that person. She considered turning back, leaving and going to bed, but her heart wouldn't allow her to. The thought of leaving, missing this opportunity hurt more than the hateful words he had said to her in the library. So she pushed open the door.

He was there as promised. He stood effortlessly from the desk he was sitting on as she entered. There was no shock or anxiety touching his face, he was as cool as the stones he was stood upon. His dark eyes seemed to be taking her in and she shrunk back slightly, embarrassed and thrilled all at once. She bit her lip and looked around the classroom trying vainly to get a hold of her nerves.

"You're more than welcome to come in."

She looked up at his words, but couldn't move forward.

"Why am I here, Graham?"

He raised a well bred eyebrow at her question, before clearing his throat and seemingly trying to look inviting.

"I think you know," he said carefully.

She shook her head and tried to blink back her tears. She knew what she wanted, but she wasn't willing to believe that it was happening. She jolted back as she felt his hand take hers, but he was gentle, patient and eventually she let him pull her more into the room towards him.

He had said nothing, he had not offered her a kind smile or word, but his eyes spoke to her. Telling her tales of affection and longing. She placed her hands on his chest, surprised at how much pain she could feel in him, just under the surface. He hid it well, even now there was no trace of disturbance on his face as he watched her take him in. She wondered if he could feel her soul as she could feel his.

She kept her touch light and swallowed her emotions as she realized just how strong his agony was. Pain like this, pain this tangible she didn't understand how he bore it. And that said nothing of the anger, the hatred. He moved forward and she had to stop herself from taking a step back, make herself stand still as he pulled her body completely against him.

She realized that he had never truly looked at her, he glanced, stared, but never looked, at least not the way he was now. His fingers brushed against her face, tracing her outline into memory, before coming to her lips. A thrill sparked in her greater than any spell and she closed her eyes as he leaned closer.

She never did feel his lips come upon hers. She felt his wand come just under her eye and the arms that had held her so gently tightened around her so hard she immediately became panicked. She screamed and therefore missed whatever spell was cast upon her, but she knew it was on her eye. Her right eye tingled disturbingly with whatever spell was upon it. She yanked back, hard enough to take him off balance so he toppled on top of her.

And from there they fought. Her scratching, wielding her arms and legs against him as he pinned her down and moved to her other eye. He demanded that she hold still, put his full weight on her chest to force her to, but she didn't stop her efforts. He couldn't get get a good shot at her other eye. She kept her head turning, blindly tearing at any skin she could find on him.

Eventually he stopped just trying to hold her down and his force grew brutal. She cried out louder as he stuck her and yanked her hair so hard down her back that her neck was stretched beyond a limit. All she could see was the door, the door and his arm placed in front of her. His arm with the torn sleeve that gave her a peek of the skull and snake underneath.

She was in such a state of shock at the Mark displayed before her she stopped struggling.

He released her hair upon her stillness and grabbed her face so she could look him in the eyes.

"You are going to hold still," he growled, his weight heavy on her chest. "You will hold still because if you don't I will end up poking your damn Siren eyes out of your skull!" He was breathing heavy and bleeding in multiple places from her attempts to free herself. "And believe it or not, that is not my intention."

"Graham," she whispered. "Please. Just let me go. Please."

"I will," he nodded coldly. "After."

He pulled out his wand and moved it towards her other eye, so close if she did fight it would stab her. She cried, cried and begged him to stop, but he ignored her tears and cast the spell. The tingling that took place was horrendous, worse in this eye because she was holding still and actually feeling it.

"What have you done to me!" She screamed, rubbing her eyes violently and turning against the stone into herself once he moved off her. It was a maddening sensation and she was in a way relieved when Graham took her arms to keep her from scratching them out.

"It will pass."

She screamed for him to make it stop, demanded that he tell her what he had done, but only silence greeted her. When the pain did pass he allowed her to tear away from him. She ran to the other side of the room, to an old cauldron tucked in the corner. She frantically rubbed at the dust coating the metal until she could make out some of her reflections.

She stared at the foreign eyes looking back at her.

"My eyes," she whispered, backing away from the dull blue that was reflected back at her and shaking her head. "Those aren't my eyes."

She turned and gave a glare sharp enough to tear skin. "Change them back," she demanded dangerously, taking out her wand and brandishing it beside her.

If the boy in front of her was scared or felt anything at her tears he didn't show it.

"Change them back!" she demanded, sending a curse towards him that she knew to be painful.

He blocked it effortlessly and she sent another. Determined to hurt him, make him feel any sort of pain, knowing it could never compare to the pain she felt at his betrayal. He blocked that one as well, blocked it and disarmed her. She realized as she watched her wand skid across the floor that she was cornered, cornered and being stalked.

She lunged to get away, but he caught her and threw her against the hard stone like a ragdoll. She once again tried to fight and was again overpowered. Her arm twisted mercilessly behind her back and her face throbbed from being struck into the wall. He was no longer trying not to hurt her.

"You will keep your eyes as they are," Graham began, his voice devoid of any regret. "And the moment you get off the Hogwarts Express this summer you and your family will leave this continent. Do you understand me? You will leave and never return."

She tried to move and pain shot through her arm so strong she could barely see. He held it at that breaking point effortlessly.

"Do you understand me, Sunder?"

"Go to hell," she panted, closing her eyes and hissing as he pushed her face harder against the wall.

"Tell me you understand."

She sobbed against the stones. "I don't understand any of this."

He repositioned her arm and she screamed louder.

"Do you understand that?"

She prayed someone would come, that someone would hear her cries for help. It wasn't until he revealed that he charmed the room with a silencing spell that she stopped her attempts.

"This is simple, Sunder. Very simple. You will agree or I will slowly break every bone in your body until you do. Now I will ask one more time before I break your arm. Do you understand?"

She closed her mouth in defiance, but as soon as she felt the slight cracking in her arm she relented like a coward.

"I understand! I understand!"

He slowly released her arm, ever so carefully placing it in a position where it no longer throbbed. She turned to him, allowing him to see the damage he had done not only to her eyes, but her face. She could taste the blood pooling in her mouth and her face was throbbing where the bruises were forming. He tucked his wand into his coat as he surveyed the damage, his handiwork not seeming to impress him.

"I would keep your mouth shut about this encounter and my arm if you know what's good for you," he said casually, touching his eyebrow and examining the blood on his fingers. "It won't do you well to get me imprisoned. There would be a backlash much worse than this."

He turned to leave, abandoning her with her new eyes and his words. Slowly it all began to make sense. The brutality, changing her appearance demanding that she leave. _He wants to save me. He thinks he can save me._ She quietly mumbled through a tune. Her voice raw from screaming, but carrying perfectly in the silence. He stilled at the alluring notes and turned back to her. And for the first time his face held a genuine look.

"It wasn't true," he breathed, intensely relieved. "You're not one."

"No, I am," she corrected, holding her throbbing arm closer to her. "It just doesn't work if the person already truly loves you."

His face fell as if she had struck him and she could barely make out that he was shaking from where she stood. He didn't address the truth in her words. He just reminded her of his instructions and left, not looking back at her even as she came into the hall and watched him disappear.


	82. Chapter 82

There once was a time when the sea roared and the dragons flew freely. A time when sirens ruled the waters of the earth. Their song freely dancing on the breeze, enticing men who dared to travel the open sea over to meet their deadly ends. Dragons were never found to be slayed and land was left unclaimed.

These sorceresses of the heart, goddesses of the sea, basked in their world, in the sun's rays on their blood-soaked thrones of stone. They were so beautiful, so enticing in their songs that men did not notice the ruby color of the stones they sailed to. They were too transfixed with the oceanic eyes; the wild, tangled hair; the darkened, sun-kissed skin and sinful naked bodies to realize they were sailing to their deaths. All who came near died with a smile on their lips as they sunk to their watery graves to feed whatever creatures lurked on the bottom of the ocean floor.

There was no contrition, no empathy for the poor souls that met their ends, just a sense of duty. A belief that by killing man there would be preservation. Man was cruel. Quick to strike. Impulsive to take—whether it be land, treasures and even living beings—and too stubborn to adapt. It was believed necessary to kill them if they wandered out onto the sea. But necessity soon was not the only reason for killing. It became sport. And when it became fun the sirens turned careless as well as cruel.

They no longer were the guardians the gods demanded they be, they were just frivolous killers. And so the sirens fell. They fell to man, united by a common enemy. Wizards had joined in man's plight, wanting to explore the world themselves and tired of the shackles sirens placed on them.

The Veela were the only ones to take pity on their kind, offering their lands and families to their cousins of the sea, and so the sirens of the world adapted. They hid with their cousins, taking on their ways and losing themselves, the sea and their ways for their sins against humanity. Generations of marriages found them hidden in Veela, their eyes the only telltale trait in human form. They were becoming rarer and rarer with each generation. It wasn't often the gift was passed down.

Wamil thought of these tales as she slowly flexed her hand, allowing her other form to take over the one arm, hidden by her robes that billowed out around her fingers. She could kill with this arm, easily. Her talons could rip through flesh and bone with hardly an effort on her part. It was a sobering moment the first time she had transformed. The first time she saw for herself how inhuman she truly was; how dangerous she could be. She never saw the danger in the ability to draw in men's hearts, but she saw the danger in this form. She was deadly in this form.

She had restrained herself last night when Graham attacked her, too scared to bring her claws for fear of killing him. She had no experience with this form. Her father had made it clear that she should never take it. Taking it endangered them all, it revealed the secret that they still existed. Apparently that secret wasn't so secret though.

_It wasn't true. You're not one._ His words echoed in her ear all through the night. Someone told him what she was and that meant people knew. And if people knew...

The darkest of times were coming. She could feel it. She could see it in Graham's eyes, in the mark that stained his skin. And there would be no hiding from the storm that was brewing. And she didn't have interest in hiding anyways.

She saw him long before he saw her, but she didn't allow his feigned disinterest to throw her off. She stormed forward and before he, or the Malfoy twins, could even appreciate what was happening she slashed him across the face with her talons. There was a deafening silence that followed. Both twins stood frozen, staring at her hand still raised and exposed, and Graham met her eyes with a fear that did not come from self-preservation as he took in her arm and her eyes that Professor Flitwick had restored earlier this morning.

Draco regained his composure first, moving for his wand, but Graces held to his arm, silently ordering him to stand down.

"I would listen to your sister," Wamil warned quietly, her eyes not moving from Grahams'. "No one is in danger _now._ But if you raise your wand I will be forced to attack."

"You've already attacked," Draco pointed out, his hand still on the hilt of his wand.

"That wasn't an attack," Wamil said, looking over at the other boy and allowing her face to take a far more sinister shape before restoring it and turning her attention back to Graham. "That was a warning."

"A warning?" Graces breathed.

"A warning," Wamil assured, moving closer to Graham and allowing her grayed hand to rest on his chest as she slowly picked off the buttons of his shirt with her talon. Draco pushed Graces aside and moved forward, but Graham motioned for him to stop. He was so calm under her hand, even when she had his chest exposed to her talons brushing against the skin over his heart.

"I am a descendant of one of the oldest creatures to roam this world," she said lowly. "The blood that runs through my veins is shared with generations who have survived worse threats than that of a boy who attacks in the middle of the night. I am siren, I am veela." she looked up at met his eyes. "I am witch."

"And I will not be afraid," she growled, her teeth pointing slightly. "This is my home. I will not leave and I will not hide. I will meet what threatens me and anyone like me head on. I will fight and die besides those who are persecuted for nothing more than their blood."

"I don't believe in self preservation, Graham. It's not in my nature." She could feel his fear climbing in him though his face remained void. "Have you ever seen a honey badger fight? There's no fear, no conservation and no retreat. Death is chosen over life. They attack mercilessly once something has caught their eye, or once threatened."

"I am a badger, I was not sorted into my house because I wasn't smart enough for Ravenclaw, or brave enough for Gryffindor... or ambitious enough for Slytherin. I was sorted into my house because I have the heart of a badger. I am unafraid of toil and I will not run in fear when there's injustice in this world. I would rather die with my friends."

"You remember that the next time you choose to attack me," she warned, removing her hand and stepping away. "This is your one warning, Graham Montague. Next time I will fight back." She turned to the twins. "That goes for you two as well."

She turned to leave, her hand restoring itself to its normal look. She turned into the next hall shaking like a leaf, unable to believe what she had just done.

"Sunder! Sunder!"

Graham was running after her, his wounds still open and dripping blood onto the stones. She frowned and walked faster, scared that he would make her act on her promise, but he persisted and she turned around talons back out and ready. He stopped a few feet before her, his eyes glancing at her hands before returning to her face.

"You said you understood," he began, shaking from what looked to be rage. "You said you—"

"Yes, and I do. I _understand_ ," she emphasized. "But I will not leave."

"Then you will die," Graham warned, moving forward not fearful of what she could do to him. "You will be slaughtered, with no hesitation. Is that what you want? To die?"

"Would it make you a better man?"

Graham looked as though he had been struck. "What?"

"Would my death make you a better man? Would it break you? Make you hate yourself for giving in and making the easy choice?" There was no understanding in his eyes. "When I die, Graham. When people who bear the same mark as you hunt me down and slaughter me in the streets will it open your eyes to what you and others of weak will have allowed?"

"You want to die as a martyr?" Graham asked distastefully. "That is your choice?"

"Why should I live when so many others die?" Wamil challenged. "Why do I deserve such a mercy?"

"Because I am giving it to you!" Graham yelled.

"I don't want it," Wamil said, holding her head high.

Graham turned away, his hand gripping the hair on top of his head in frustration.

"You're better than this," she whispered tearfully. He turned at her words. "You don't have to be this, Graham. It's not too late. It's never too late to do the right thing. I know this is not who you are."

"You've never even had a decent conversation with me," Graham pointed out, his voice crueler than his eyes. "You have no idea who I am."

"I know you changed my eyes and tried to scare me yesterday to save me," she said softly, retracting her talons and moving closer to him. "I know you love me."

"I never— _ **never**_ —said that. I—"

"You love me," Wamil interrupted. "And I love you."

He didn't know. The shock in his eyes told her everything. He thought, _believed_ , it was one sided.

"You're talking nonsense," he maintained, shaking his head and trying to rid himself of the truth.

"You know I'm not."

He glared down at her as she stood only a few inches from him. "You know who I love?" he asked angrily, his nose almost up against her's. "I love my mother. My father. My sisters and their children. I love—"

She didn't allow him to finish, she seized his lips with hers. He jumped back, pushing her away and almost stumbling to the floor. She watched as the calm, collected boy visibly trembled. He nervously touched his lips and looked around for any onlookers, though he knew the hall to be abandoned.

When he turned back to her he kept his distance.

"I am marrying Graces Malfoy," he revealed, still shaken. "She's appropriate for me to marry and-and I love her."

"You know that is a lie."

"Believe what you will, it changes nothing. I-I'm marrying Graces. I've given her and her brother my word. I—"

"Liar! Hermione Granger told me the other day that it wasn't true!"

"I don't know why Hermione Granger seems to think she knows anything about Graces' and my personal relationship, but she is wrong," he said the words with such conviction she was close to believing them. "I have asked Graces to marry me."

"That's not true."

"It most certainly is," he swore, taking a step forward. "I can swear that on my sisters' lives. I have asked her to marry me."

"How could you marry her when you love me?"

"I don't—"

"You can't lie to me!"

"I am marrying Graces, Wamil. Can you feel that? It is the truth. Please leave. What I feel for you I am burying, and I am going to nourish the small amount of affection I feel for Graces so it blooms into something whole, and that is my choice. My decision." he emphasized banging his hand on his chest. "Just as taking the Mark was my decision."

"You can turn back, Graham. You can—"

He walked away before she could say anything more, abandoning her with such deep disappointment she could hardly breathe as her heart broke in her chest.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

He was running. He knew he was in retreat, but he needed the distance. Each step took him farther and gave him another ounce of relief. He needed a world between her and him. That kiss. That moment. He had never been so close to doing something so stupid. He turned the next corner and tried to bury the hatred for himself that was threatening to eat him alive.

"You attacked her?" Graces hissed, coming from nowhere and walking alongside him despite his silence telling her to leave. "Graham, what is the matter with you!"

"Nothing." He tried to get away, but Graces was relentless.

"Nothing," she repeated. "You honestly think nothing's the matter with you."

"Graces, you need to get away from me."

"Why? Are you going to attack me as well?" She scoffed. "I'd like to see you try."

He walked faster and growled for her to leave, knowing she wouldn't. They were alone outside when he turned and pulled her into him, heatedly meeting her lips, determined to feel something stronger or just as enjoyable as what he had experienced with Wamil. But the girl in his arms would have none of his attempts. Graces pushed him away and smacked him hard against the scratches he had already obtained, so hard they stung as though his skin had been retorn.

"I need you to kiss me back."

"What you need is your head examined! Do that again and I will have Draco examine it for you! You arse!"

Graham moved to kiss her again, but Graces pushed him away with such force that he fell back. She opened her mouth to no doubt continue with her scolding as she loomed over him, but stopped. He watched as her face drained of color. When he turned he saw Neville Longbottom watching the scene before entering the greenhouse, sending Graces a wary look before shutting the greenhouse door.

"I thought that was over," Graham said, gaining Graces' attention back and standing to his feet.

"It is."

"Doesn't look like it is."

"Well, it is," Graces said tightly.

"Then kiss me."

Graces shook her head and fought back her tears.

"If it's over then move on. Kiss me."

"No." Her voice was stronger than he thought it would be. "It doesn't feel right," she whispered. "And I will not be your conquest to force yourself to move on and I hate that you're asking me to be. I've never felt so cheap." She wiped away a tear and looked at the Greenhouse. "I was his everything and I'm what you settle for to try and forget. We may very well be together for the rest of our lives, Graham, but I refuse to force ourselves into this earlier than we need to."

Graham knew she was right and looked down ashamed, before apologizing profusely. Graces nodded, but he could tell she was worlds away.

"We could be happy, Graces," he said softly. "We really could. We could use each other now to distract ourselves, but eventually we would love each other and be happy." He could see it in her eyes she knew what he was saying to be true. "I asked you out in October because I realized that. We both are appropriate for one another in more ways than status. There is no denying that."

"There's not," Graces conceded, still refusing to allow her eyes to meet his.

"Then why not? Why not just let go and force ourselves to move on? We both are in the same situation. Who would be better?"

"Let's just try, Graces," he murmured, taking her hand and gently pulling her close. "I want to try."

She bit her lip, but didn't pull away like before. He tried to seem inviting, even offering her a small smile, but she saw through it. Saw his own resignation as he was seeing hers. It wasn't what they wanted.

"We just need time," he reminded. "This is going to be easy. We're saving one another in a way."

"Are we?"

"It would never work for me and Wamil and it would never work for you and Longbottom."

"If Neville—"

"He won't though, Graces. He made his choice. You're going to get yourself killed and break your brother's heart. Is that what you want?"

"No."

"Then let me kiss you. Let's move on. Together."

She bit her lip in thought and looked back at the greenhouse. Neville was nowhere to be seen and Graham thanked the gods for that mercy, because when she turned to stare back at him she gave the smallest of nods. He leaned in slowly, fighting his own urge to stop. This was right. This was the best thing for both of them, for their families and even in a way for Wamil and Neville.

"I can't." He opened his eyes and to see Graces turned away. "I just can't."

"Graces."

"No. I just can't, Graham. It feels too wrong. I know what life awaits me," she revealed looking up at him. "But I'm not ready to succumb to it now. Let me mourn for my loss. Let my heart be broken for a while before asking me to move on."

She loved him, she loved him and she didn't even realize it. He felt a whole new pity for the girl in front of him, part of him wanted to point it out and another part of him didn't want her to realize, lest she do something foolish.

"How far did you and Longbottom go?" Graham inquired slowly.

"Why does it matter?" Graces sighed, staring up at the sky and trying to dry her eyes.

"I-I just want to know."

"Far."

"How far?"

"I don't know," Graces shrugged, now crying freely. "Farther than I should have let it go."

"Did you kiss?" A nod. "Touch?" Another nod. Graham stared at the girl in front of him before asking if she slept with him.

She bit her lip and choked a bit on her own emotions before nodding again.

He was a bit shocked at that. He imagined kissing, heavy petting, but not that. "Just once?"

Graces moaned and turned away to hide her embarrassment.

"More than once," Graham breathed frowning at the thought. "Graces, how many times?"

"I don't know!" Graces screamed. "A lot! Too many to count!"

Graham let out a breath and turned away as he ran his hands through his hair. He knew Graces never allowed Nott to go far, that she used her brother as a shield from such intimacies, and he considered what it meant to her to let someone go that far.

"I just don't get it," he breathed. "Longbottom. Neville Longbottom. Out of all the guys in the school you—"

"Oh you should talk!" Graces lashed out defensively. "At least Neville is human! AND pure! He's pure! Sunder isn't any of those things! Merlin! Did you see those talons!"

Graces had the sense to stop speaking, and they stood waiting for the other to say more.

"Do you even believe that shit anymore?" Graham asked after awhile.

"What?"

"Blood status," he clarified.

"Do you?"

He looked at her for a moment and shrugged.

"I don't know either," Graces admitted. "Not that it matters. We don't have many choices anymore, not even the choice of what to believe."

Graham nodded in agreement.

"If we marry that won't change," she murmured more to herself than him. "We will continue with the life our parents expected of us. We would fall into everything we should do, believe everything we should believe because it's easier, and we would teach our children only what we knew. Because it's easier."

"And safer," Graham added wearily. "It's safer."

Graces swallowed some emotion before nodding her head in agreement. Was this it? Was this his future wife in front of him? Everything pointed to it.

"Wamil kissed me," he confessed quietly.

"How did it feel?"

_Life changing._ "Pleasant."

"Pleasant?" Graces asked, a knowing look in her eye.

Graham shrugged. "A bit more than pleasant."

"How did it feel kissing me?"

"You didn't let me kiss you," Graham pointed out, a bit irritated. "I wanted to see how it would feel."

"You kissed me before," Graces stated, rolling her eyes. "On the Quidditch pitch."

"I know... just wanted to see if I would still enjoy it."

Graces raised her brows in surprise. "You think she has ruined all women for you with one kiss?" Graham flushed and refused to answer. "Sounds far more than pleasant."

"I just want to see," Graham begged. "It's one measly kiss."

"Then kiss someone else, you should have no problems finding another girl to test the spell you're under."

"If Draco found out I kissed another girl I would be a dead man."

"I can't kiss you, Graham. It feels wrong just to consider it."

She had shut down. She held her arms about her and looked over somewhere in the distance and he knew that this discussion was over.

"Is Wamil in danger?" Graces looked up from her thoughts. "Will Draco—"

"Sunder needs to go into hiding when school finishes," Graces said slowly, reading his mind. "Her life depends on it. But I don't think Draco will be the one to bring attention to her."

"Can you make sure of that?"

He knew he was asking a lot. That he was dragging Graces into an awful situation, but he was relieved all the same when the blonde agreed. Saying she would insist they keep away and quiet about the siren at least until the summer when the Dark Lord's army was stronger. "Draco will agree," she continued. "Sirens are dangerous beings. He won't want to anger one. He's pretty ticked with you for being foolish enough to try to hurt one. He said you're lucky that Sunder is a Hufflepuff and didn't have the nerve to finish you before. It was kindness he thinks that allowed you a mere warning."

Graham nodded and felt a sense of great relief before the guilt of his actions sunk in. All of that and his plan didn't work. She was going to stay. He hadn't saved her.

"You could try talking to her," Graces suggested, reading his mind.

"I think talking to her would be dangerous for both of us."

"And here I thought you were nothing but self control and practicality."

He sent Graces a withering glare, but she brushed it off easily.

"I can't believe you hurt her."

"Really? Have you already forgotten what I am? What I have done?"

"No. I have not... but you claim to _love_ her."

Graham made a noncommittal noise and once again wished Graces would leave. "Do you still believe you don't love Longbottom?"

"I know I don't. If I did I would choose him. Just like if he loved me he would choose me," she added disheartened, holding herself tighter as though she thought she may break. "I really thought he would choose me."

"You thought he loved you?"

"I wanted to believe he did."

He turned her chin towards him, allowing her to keep her distance but cupping her face in his palms to ensure her unyielding attention. "Let it be done, Graces. This is better."

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

This was better. This is better. It didn't matter how many times she told herself that truth, she couldn't stop herself from walking to the Greenhouse as soon as Graham left her. She searched her mind for some rational reason for her actions and came up with none. She felt guilty, like she needed Neville to know she hadn't been unfaithful. Which was stupid, considering they were no longer together and she was free to do as she chose.

For some reason that thought cut her deeper than Wamil's talons cut Graham. She still hoped, no prayed, that Neville would change his mind. That he would take the Mark. If he hurt anywhere near to how she hurt she didn't understand how he could not.

She entered the greenhouse and immediately turned her head every which way. She didn't see him though. She moved through the shrubbery, her eyes looking in every nook and corner until she found him trimming a plant that very clearly did not want to be trimmed. His eyes settled on her for a mere second before their attention went back to the plant.

"Probably best if you wait over there," he instructed, his chin pointing to the work desk he wanted her to go stand by. "I'll be over in a minute. Or two," he corrected when the plant spat some sort of sap at him.

Frazzled, she nodded and went to the desk. Again she asked herself what she was doing. Why she was doing this. Why? Graham was right. She should give up on Neville and move on with him. She closed her eyes and imagined how happy it would make Draco. He loved Graham and she would make him his brother, when Draco fulfilled his task he would still be happy about a union between her and Graham. They would all eventually be happy.

Graham complemented her. Complemented her life as it was. It wouldn't be perfect, he was quick to get angry and yell and she was quick to spit back her own venom, but what couple didn't fight? Most of the time they would probably just ignore the things that pestered them about one another. And her and Neville fought. And though she never expected Graham to open up completely with her, she knew he opened up as much as he could. He could be distant sometimes, but that was his nature. She could accept that.

They would play their roles well. Her the dutiful wife, him the protective husband and together they would be a perfect pure family. And eventually those roles wouldn't feel so much like roles. It would be real and have real love.

_But it wouldn't be the love or life I would have with Neville,_ she thought sadly.

With Neville it would be so different. His life would revolve around her and she could see her life revolving around him. There wouldn't be any expectations of her, he would just want her to be happy, he would want to make her happy. She could see him coming home excited to just be near her. They would be playful and involved. There would be very little separation of their lives and he would tell her everything and she would be able to tell him everything.

And when children eventually did come he would be amazing. And she would love him more. Love him for being the kind of father who was playful and gave affection like the gods gave rain in Scotland. She and her children wouldn't have that with Graham. They would know of his love, he would give it in his own way. Prideful smiles, the hand that gripped his son's shoulder after a good Quidditch game. Graham didn't like casual, careless contact. There was nothing wrong with it. People showed love in different ways, but she wanted for her children, for herself, what Neville would bring.

She jumped up when he appeared before her. Hair disheveled, sleeves rolled up and dirt caking his clothes and palms. His face yielded nothing. She looked down, ashamed for a moment, before looking back up.

"Nothing is going on between me and Graham," she blurted out, unable to take the silence surrounding them.

"I didn't think there was," Neville shrugged casually. "You pushed him away quick enough, it was obvious he caught you off guard. Though I still would very much enjoy decking him."

"You have no right to deck him. We're broken up."

"Is that why you came running to tell me nothing was happening the first chance you got?" The silence that met him was answer enough. "Thought so." She hated how smug he was, like he knew exactly what was happening. "Bout a week, as always, so I take it now you are ready to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about," she stated firmly.

Neville scoffed at her words and went to a nearby sink to wash off the dirt on his hands. "You know I won't wait around forever, Graces. At some point I will be done."

"Be done," Graces shrugged, turning her heel on him and heading towards the door. He didn't let her leave though, he yanked her back to him. His arm encircled her waist and pulled her body into his, while his hand teased the sensitive area on the back of her neck. She stood there breathless and close to trembling.

"Tell me to be done again and I will," he dared, his lips so close to hers she could breathe in the minty taste of the toothpaste he used regularly. "I'll be done with you, Graces. I will give up on this idea of you and me together. I won't look your way or try to gain your affections any longer. If you can't take me as I am right now in this moment, we can't be together and I will have no choice but to honor your wishes. So tell me, what do you want?" She held her breath as his eyes dipped low to her lips before bringing them back up to meet hers.

Her head was swimming and though words were on the tip of her tongue nothing came. Neville ever so slightly came forward, his lips lightly on hers. She knew she should push him away, that allowing this went against everything she had said, but she couldn't. His lips on hers, the way he was kissing her was the only thing that had taken the pain she had felt since the other night away.

He pressed her against a nearby work table, his passion taking over and feeding the fire that was ignited under her skin. She muttered a few feeble protests, but didn't push him away. Her heart pounded against her chest and though she knew she should tell him to stop she prayed he wouldn't.

"Why do you do this?" he demanded, his hands gripping her closer while his lips pressed harder on hers. "I'm yours and you're mine. We could never be apart. Can't you feel that? Isn't your skin crawling and teeth on edge when you try to be? I feel like I'm about to be ripped apart from deep within my chest when we're apart. I go mad. Like I'm locked in a room and clawing at the walls."

Her breath caught as his lips moved to her neck. "Neville, I—"

"Stop punishing me. I love you. I love you with every fiber of my being, Graces. I love you and somewhere you know that. And instead of talking to me, sitting down and discussing our future you're choosing to manipulate me. Withdrawing your affections because you know nothing could hurt me more." Graces withdrew at Neville's words, but Neville held her firmly preventing her escape. "You know how long I've wanted this. Affection, warmth... You opened my eyes to things I never knew I wanted. Things I never dreamed of hoping for."

"And then you ripped it away," Neville finished bitterly. "I'm right where you want me, Miss Malfoy. Broken, pained, watching you from afar and feeling as though my world has been cast down into shadows. But you know that, don't you? You know I hurt, that you had become the center of my happiness. What kills me is that you want it to hurt."

"Neville, I—"

"I know who you are, Graces," Neville interrupted, his face hardening. "I'm not surprised by your actions. This is all you know. You've watched your whole life as your father manipulated people by any means possible."

"Don't you dare speak a word about my father," Graces spat. "My father is a great man!"

"I'm speaking the truth and you know it," Neville hissed. "The thing is, Graces, it won't work. I will never be what you have asked." She felt her heart fall and glared at him hatefully for paining her so. For treating her as though she were a spoiled girl playing a game with his life. "I thought about it," Neville breathed, something in his eyes dying with the confession. "Godric forgive me, I thought about it." Neville finally released her and moved away. "How could I not when you painted such a beautiful picture."

"You and me married, happy, and you round with my child. Happy to be giving me a family. I don't even think I want children, but I can't stop imagining how happy I would be if I had a little girl that looked just like you or a boy with my last name and your eyes. I can't stop thinking about all of that," he murmured quietly.

Graces wiped away a tear that spilled from her eye.

"You could have that. You—"

"No. I've made my choice, Graces," Neville looked up from his fantasies and stared at her face. "Now it's time for you to make yours. Tell me to be done and I will be."

Graces knew what answer she should give. Graham's voice echoed in her head to let this be done, but she couldn't. She looked up at Neville and knew he meant this. If she said for him to leave her be he would and she would lose him.

"I don't want you to be," she whispered meekly.

"Then come home," he pleaded, moving close and taking her hand. "Come home and talk to me."

"Why? There's no future in us anyways," she said petulantly, turning and looking away.

Neville was silent for a few moments. "I'm not ready to be a husband, Graces," he began hesitantly. "I'm sixteen and know nothing of how to cherish a woman properly. I have no doubt that in the future you would be a wonderful wife and I would be a happy man and that in a few years I could be ready to undertake such a responsibility as joining my life with someone... But I'm not ready now and, frankly, Graces, neither are you. You're spoiled, selfish, impulsive—"

"I think you've made your point," Graces cut off bitterly, moving to leave rather than stand there being insulted.

"I don't fault you for it, Graces," Neville said, grabbing her arm and preventing her from leaving. "You're sixteen, you're not supposed to be mature, but that's my point. We're not ready for all those things. Come talk to me tonight. I love you and I want to make you happy and if that's all you want I will figure something out. It just won't happen now."

"Oh and what is it you think you will figure out?" Graces cried.

"I don't know!" Neville exclaimed. "But that's the whole point of us talking, isn't it? So we can figure it out together."

There was a long pregnant silence.

"I don't think I can," Graces hiccuped, sitting down on a bag of soil and weeping. "I don't understand you. All you do is proclaim your love for me and then when I ask for a way for us to be together you say no. I don't understand, Neville. Graham has done it for those he loves. Do you think he wanted to bow down to the person who organized the murder of his sister and nephews? He didn't. He struggles everyday. I watch him just as Draco does, but he did it for love. Why can't you do this for me? If what you're saying is true why don't you take the Mark? I am taking the Mark for Thomas and Octavian, why will you not make this sacrifice for me?"

"There has to be another way."

"There isn't. Trust me, there isn't. There are things about my situation that you do not know."

"Like what?"

Graces turned away, but Neville was insistent, even demanding to know.

"Like that I tried to go to the safe house," Graces snapped. "I tried. It was the perfect opportunity for us all to go, my mother was even there, and Draco refused. He wouldn't go, Neville. My mother and I were begging him to come with us and he refused. He refused until it was too late and we no longer had the option."

Neville stood there dumbfounded.

"When did this happen?"

She took a deep breath. "Over the holiday."

"Over the holiday," Neville echoed hollowly. "I- I don't understand. Why didn't you go? Why did Draco refuse? How was your mother here?"

"None of that matters," Graces said sadly. "The point is I am trapped. There is no safe haven for me, Longbottom."

"That's not true, that's—"

"It is true. Draco is a Death Eater and soon I shall be as well. This is my world, Neville. My situation will not change. If you want to be with me you are the one that has to change. I'm sorry, but that is the only way. You can wish things to be different all you want but nothing will change it."

"I can't be a Death Eater."

"If you detest them so much why are you standing before me? I am going to be one. I've already promised. Or is it forgivable for me because I did so out of love? Is it forgivable for Draco because he is doing so out of love? If you truly believe that then why can't you forgive yourself and do so for me out of love? Or is it really that I am correct in my belief that you don't love me."

Neville seemed to be reflecting on her words. Every moment or two he would look at her sadly before looking back at his shoes in thought. It seemed to be done and she expected him to walk out and leave, for this to end, but he didn't. He came forward to where she sat and knelt in front of her taking her hands.

"I do love you, Graces. And I do not fault you, Draco or Graham for your choices. It's an impossible choice. But I won't make the same one. This is how he manipulates people. He uses something sacred and wonderful like love and twists it against them. I won't let him do that to me. I know my grandmother and my uncle's lives are at risk with my decision to support Harry in this war, but people need to start taking a stand."

"I don't understand you," Graces shook, yanking her hands away. "My gods can you imagine if I had made the choice you are making now? Thomas and Octavian would both be dead." She stood to leave and Neville followed her insisting she wait.

"Graces, there are other ways."

"Maybe there are, but those ways are complicated and full of risk. What I am asking of you now is not."

Neville furrowed his brow and stared down at her for a long while before narrowing his eyes and releasing her arm.

"Not complicated," Neville repeated bitterly. "Not full of risks." Neville took a step back and Graces could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek to the point where there must have been blood. "Merlin, what was I thinking. Meeting and trying to talk. Like you could ever sit down and be reasonable."

She could feel the rage boiling up in her at his words.

"Just leave," Neville demanded. "You gave me my options and I've made my choice."

"What?" she breathed, the anger depleting and her stomach turning. Neville didn't repeat himself, he just crossed his arms and nodded towards the door. "So that's it?" she asked, hurt despite herself.

"Isn't it?"

Graces gritted her teeth so her lip wouldn't tremble before turning to leave. She wanted him to stop her, she already missed his arms around her and the gentle words he whispered in her ear every night.

_It's not real though. Not if he can choose to give you up._

She turned around despite herself and found Neville turned away. Her heart raced and she took a step away from the door towards him. "Tonight." He turned towards her. "We can talk," she clarified, her voice carrying a plea she didn't mean for it to.

Neville's eyes dipped down in thought, but he eventually agreed. "Tonight it is then."


	83. Chapter 83

She couldn't stop shaking. She busied her hands with the thestral in its pen and distracted herself with the task of grooming. It had been a long time since she had come to visit the beasts, and she wondered if there was any recognition in those milky eyes as they stared at her. She thought about what she was going to say, what she could say. Her mind raced with each passing second and she did her best to fight it, to slow it down so she could get a real handle on her emotions and thoughts.

He had to take the Mark. Not just for them, but for himself. She imagined Neville gone from this world and her heart grew so heavy she could barely breathe. Siding with Harry—with a child—was going to get him killed. No one would look after Neville the way people looked out for Harry. He would just be another person on a very long list to die for the Boy Who Lived. She couldn't let that happen, not to Neville.

She told herself that wouldn't happen as she furiously rubbed oil on the reptilian skin in front of her. Neville would see reason and she would make sure nothing and no one touched him. Draco would too. He would be safe; she would ensure that. He was not going to die in this damn war. There was no reason for him to. He was a pureblood, this wasn't their war. It wasn't their problem.

Even as she told herself this she knew Neville wouldn't see it that way. But they would talk and she was going to do her best to make him see, not throw a fit and walk out. She wished he really did love her. This would all be simpler if he did.

"I've never understood your obsession with these beasts."

Graces' jumped at the familiar voice and hot breath on the base of her neck and damned her eye for its blindness.

Nott gave a dark chuckle as she turned. "Did I frighten you?"

"Surprised," Graces corrected. Nausea, true and cold, struck her, but she didn't allow it to show on her face.

He flicked his eyebrows up in amusement, as though she were a child playing a fantasy game of pretend. "Surprised," he repeated.

Graces gave a hum of confirmation and casually walked to the other side of the thestral, dragging her hand against the scaly body that would now act as a barrier between her and the enemy in front of her.

Nott smirked and lazily rested his arms on the horse-like back in front of him. "How are you these days, Miss Malfoy?"

"Fine." Where was her wand. She did her best to casually peek at the stool she had set it on without drawing attention. It was gone. Her heart stopped.

"You're not going to ask how I am?"

He had it. She looked up at him, not allowing her face to yield any hint of her fear.

"I don't care how you've been," she retorted blandly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am quite busy."

Each heartbeat felt like a lifetime as she continued pretending to be focused on rubbing oil on skin. Her hands remained steady, but she felt anything but as Nott continued watching her with predatory stillness.

After a moment he reached into his pocket and Graces froze as he casually examined her wand.

"Hawthorn?" he asked casually.

"Holly," Graces breathed, unable to take her eyes off her wand.

"That's right," Nott crooned. "How could I forget? Draco was hawthorn. You had holly... but same core correct? Unicorn hair?" Graces nodded, but knew better than to reach out to try and take her wand back. "Is your skin crawling?" She met the eyes staring down at her. Nott grinned and casually chucked her wand over his shoulder far away somewhere on the other side of the barn.

Graces gritted her teeth. "What do you want?"

"I want you to ask me how I've been."

_Careful_ , a gentle voice ordered in her head.

"How have you been, Nott?" Graces asked casually, too casually.

"Not so good," he said flatly.

He fell silent, a cue for her to ask why. "Oh," she breathed, doing her best to play the part he wanted while she tried to figure out a plan. "How so?"

"Well," the other boy drawled. "I've been having some problems in my _extracurricular activities_."

"I'm being undermined a lot in front of the Dark Lord. Some would even say I was being purposely made to look like a fool." His words were so low there was no mistaking the threat lingering in the air. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Graces?" She shook her head slowly. "No? You haven't asked Montague for such favors?" Again she shook her head, slowly moving her hands away from the thestral and backing away.

The movement caught his eye and she suppressed a shiver as his dark eyes focused in on her. "You never did like to get your hands dirty," Nott said, his voice calm in that way that made her want to try and run. _Figure out what he wants first._ "Tell me what did you have to give Montague to gain him as an ally? How did you convince him to slyly steal my tasks? To point out my every mistake? To casually make me a joke?" His eyes dipped down surveying her, the curves of her breasts under her shirt and it took every ounce of her self restraint not to cover her chest with her arms.

_I will not be afraid. I will not be afraid._

"You know he tortured Draco," Nott continued idly.

Her tongue suddenly felt too heavy in her mouth.

"Our Lord ordered it and Graham fulfilled his order," Nott said, his eyes dancing with delight. "Montague was ordered to bring the memory of the event. He tortured your brother to the point where he pissed himself, gave him a break and started again. Never leaving a mark, lest you find out."

She fought the urge to close her eyes, and bit her lips together to keep the sob in her throat from slipping out.

"Tell me, Graces, how do you feel about Montague now?"

"I-I feel bad for him," Graces breathed, barely able to keep the sob contained. "I can't—I can't imagine how hard that was for him. For both of them," she sniffed.

A shadow flickered across his face and she tried not to even breath loudly, lest he hear the rattle of fear within her. An utter stillness crept over his body and it was in that moment that Graces knew to run.

She lunged to the right and threw her arm out in a single blow to Nott's temple as she made it for the pen door. The hit and her nimble maneuvering was enough to get her out of the tight pen and into the open barn before she was captured and slammed against a wall not once but twice. Once for force and the second for good measure. Her head rang from the blow and it took her a moment to be able to focus on the face in front of her or the dagger at her throat.

"Scared, Malfoy?"

When she didn't answer, Nott's lip curled and she wasn't surprised in the least when he administered a hard blow to her cheek with the hilt of the dagger. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

"I asked you a question."

She lifted her chin and glared at her attacker in defiance. This time he knocked the wind out of her. She buckled as the air left her, but he yanked her back up.

"I want to hear you say it," he pressed, dragging the sharp edge of his weapon down to trace her collar bone. "I want to hear you say 'I'm scared'."

This was about power, about control. He wanted to hear her humble herself before him. He moved the dagger lower, letting its tip draw lazily on her skin until it reached the opening of her blouse and rested delicately above her breasts. Her palms suddenly turned clammy and her heart beat faster. She stood there wandless and alone, wishing she could sink into the wall and escape.

"I'm scared," she relinquished, feeling the tip of his blade digging into her skin.

A cruel smile formed on his lips. "Now tell me you love me."

Her eyes widened and the air in her lungs was sucked out.

"I don't think you actually do," he grinned. "I just want to hear you say it."

"What are you doing, Nott?" she breathed. "Just let me go."

"Say it," he demanded digging the knife in so a small amount of blood came onto the silver. "And make me believe it, Graces. Make me believe it and perhaps you will get to walk out of here."

She swallowed and tried to make her tongue obey his command. It wouldn't move though. It all felt wrong. Fear or disgust prevented her from obeying. She closed her eyes and willed herself to mutter the words and so they came muddied with fear and desperation.

"You can do better than that," Nott challenged, pressing closer to her and making her feel, if possible, smaller. "Try again."

She was trembling with fear and in the back of her mind she knew that he wasn't really going to let her go, that this wouldn't be over regardless of what she said or did, but she wanted to try. She wanted to attempt to escape. She closed her eyes and thought of Draco, thought of all the happy and warm memories she had with him and how much she wanted to see him again.

"I love you," she sobbed desperately, thinking of Draco and how tight she would hug him to her when she saw him again. She wanted that so badly, to see him again, to smell his familiar scent to hear the vibrations of his speech as she laid her head against his chest. Her words could not have sounded more sincere, because even as she said them she prayed Draco could somehow hear them, somehow feel them wherever he was now.

She wasn't sure how her words angered Nott and she screamed into the night as he hurt her more and demanded she try again.

"Say it to me the way I want you to say it," he growled, his fingers digging into the skin on her face as he forced her to look at him. "Say it to me the way you would say it to Montague." He practically spat the name out, as though the mere letters on his lips were distasteful.

Her heart raced. She didn't love Graham. She couldn't imagine him in her head and say such a thing. She couldn't imagine anyone in her head and say such a thing.

_No?_

Neville crept into her mind. Neville smiling over at her from his desk. His eyes turning to her after making love and his gentle hands caressing her face. She pushed those images away, not willing to think of them or why they came into her mind now. No matter how hard she pushed though they came back and she didn't have time to fight his memory if they would help her get away.

She looked up at Nott's face and tried to imagine Neville in front of her. She could see him, his memory was so heavy in this room she didn't have a problem envisioning him in front of her. She thought of her last encounter with him. He was so angry, so hurt. It tore her up thinking that the last time she saw him he had wanted to walk away. She was so filled with regret now. He was waiting for her, right now he was standing in their room waiting for her. Thinking she had changed her mind, that she didn't want to be there.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tearing up from a different sort of pain. "I'm so sorry." She met Nott's eyes and for a heartbeat it was Neville looking down at her, his face confused and bewildered. "I-I love you."

She didn't know what hurt more, saying it to Nott or saying it and realizing that maybe—just maybe—it was true. Her world shattered and she broke with the weight of her words and their possible meaning.

It was what he wanted. She could see it in his eyes that she had said it in exactly the manner he had wanted, and that for a brief moment her words had even rang true to him. His lip curled and the rage he had built up for her seemed to catch fire. Her words had been fuel on an already wild fire.

Her stomach roiled, but she moved first. She slammed her knee hard into Nott's crotch and ran forward while the Death Eater was doubled over in pain.

She didn't make it halfway to the barn door before pain raked down her body, bringing her to her knees. She thrashed around trying to escape the torture that overtook her. When it stopped Nott stood over her. Her body still echoed with the pain of the curse, but she tried to roll away. A swift kick met her stomach, knocking the wind from her. She still couldn't breathe when Nott's weight settled on her and he began tearing at her blouse.

"No!" She knew it was useless. Her consent was the last thing the boy on top of her cared about, but she said it anyways. Screamed it. Repeated it again and again. "No-no-no-no!" She screamed it even after the silencing charm was placed on her. She didn't care how useless the words were she said it for her, screamed it for her.

She tried to push him off. She scratched, bit, at one point even tried to headbutt him, but it was to no avail. He was bigger, stronger and had a wand. She was powerless and in that moment she hated herself as much as she hated him. Hated her frail body, her useless words and her inability to protect herself.

His hand snaked up her skirt and tore off the cloth that acted as her only shield, making her sick to her stomach. Then as he fumbled with his belt she remembered the ring Neville gave her. She wriggled her left hand out from his clutches and pressed it hard against his face.

Nothing happened, nothing seemed to be stopping him. His laugh echoed through her.

And suddenly it all became clear. Impotence. The ring had an impotence charm on it.

She didn't know if she was laughing or crying. Neville's words rang in her head. "It will only protect you from one thing." An impotency charm. She never would have guessed. Relief flooded over her in waves. She was so caught up in her mirth she didn't notice Nott's glaring down at her, but she did notice when his hands wrapped around her throat.

The edges of her vision were darkening and she felt lighter with each passing second. The terror of not getting breath into her lungs was subsiding and the darkness was overtaking.

She didn't know how long she had been out, but she knew the pain in her ribs was real. The barn was in chaos, the thestrals were raging around her, not noticing they were trampling her- breaking her beneath them. She moved to get up, but stopped as another thestral wheeled it's front hooves over her head.

She rolled over on her belly, frightened of the hooves stomping down around her. After a few terrifying moments where her cheek was planted to the floor, she realized they weren't trampling her, at least not purposely. They were saving her. The blood soaking her and sticking to her tongue was not just her own, but Nott's. The thestrals were still attacking him as she laid there on the floor, not caring for the cuts he was inflicting on them as he tried to get away. She wondered where his wand was, but was soon answered as she saw broken wood lying near her.

She focused on her breathing and relaxed in the knowledge that she was going to walk away from this. Going to walk away with only broken bones. He was getting away, but she didn't care. She laid on the ground, relieved for her broken bones and cuts. One of the thestrals nipped at her back, telling her to stand, but she made no move to do so. She didn't think she could.

She could hear someone running up and the noises of the beasts grew grander. Beckoning for whoever was in the distance to come faster. She vaguely noted that the barn doors had been left ajar and some thestrals were running outside, bucking violently around in the night. They kicked the barn's wood with such force she feared the whole building would buckle.

"How did you all get out? In your pens now. Go on." She heard Hagrid administer a few curse words under his breath that was a much grander vocabulary of swear words than she was used to hearing. She waited for him to find her. It wouldn't be much longer considering he was just outside the barn doors rounding up the thestrals who had gone out. She tried to cover her chest and winced as she realized two of her fingers had been crushed under the hooves.

_Just breathe,_ she told herself again and again, focusing on anything but her vulnerability. A chill swept over her, reminding her of how exposed she was, but she didn't try and move again. She felt paralyzed lying there as she heard Hagrid cross the threshold. And she only allowed herself to cry as the professor found her and quickly threw his coat over her and picked her up into his arms.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Halt! State your business!"

Healer Durand raised a perfectly sculpted brow at the woman's demand, but did as she said. Recognizing the auror cloak, despite the fact the auror in front of her looked to be something far from professional with her bubblegum pink hair.

"Bonjour," she greeted simply, not bothering to hide her judgmental stare.

"These are private grounds, no one is permitted—"

"I have been summoned by a Professor 'Agrid," the healer said, looking down her nose at the woman who was now standing in front of her trying to direct her away.

"Do you have a letter?" the woman challenged.

"I was firecalled."

"Firecalled in the dead of night?"

"Obviously," Durand drawled slowly, her patience wearing thin.

"I will need to check on this, before I can allow you to pass."

Durand bristled at the delay, but didn't argue.

"Name?"

"Healer Durand."

"Healer?" the woman repeated, her face betraying her own anxiety.

"Oui. _Healer._ "

"Why is Hagrid calling a healer?"

"I am under no obligation to answer zat," the older woman replied. "Make your inquiries quickly so zat I may pass."

The auror stared at her for a few moments, obviously trying to figure out if this was all an elaborate lie.

"I will escort you," the woman decided. "You will relinquish your wand and belongings and once we reach Hagrid, if he confirms what you say to be true, you will have it back."

Durand pursed her lips, not at all happy to relinquish her belongings, but in the end did just that. She didn't know how long it would take to get Hagrid's confirmation, and considering what she had seen last time with Graces she didn't want to be held up longer.

The auror adjusted herself to the weight of the bag and pocketed the wand in her hoster, while she maintained her's out.

"When are you due?" Durand asked, eyeing the auror's protruding belly.

"April, middle or end."

"And you're still working?"

"Why not?" The auror asked, conjuring a patronus that made the healer jump back. She had never seen a werewolf patronus. "I need another auror at the entrance to Hogsmeade, I need to escort someone through the grounds," she instructed sending the whisk of blue away to deliver her message.

"Because your job is dangerous and you are less capable of doing it being in your last trimester." Durand began walking along the path, not bothering to go slow despite not knowing where she should be going.

"Standing post isn't that hard."

Durand bit back a retort, deciding it wouldn't be wise to upset an auror at a time like this.

"I was instructed to go to the Professor's home."

"Not to the infirmary?"

"Did I say I was instructed to go to ze infirmary?"

"You're not saying much of anything," the auror pointed out irritatedly.

Durand said nothing and soon they slipped into silence except for the crunching of twigs and the forest.

She thought of what the giant had said. How he found her, her refusal to allow him to take her to the castle, her insistence that only she be the one to see her and for the first time in many years she felt unraveled.

"I'm Tonks, by the way."

She acted as though she had not heard the woman and continued walking, continued thinking. Her clothes had been torn the other time, and nothing so vile had happened. This could be something similar.

"You're pretty rude, anyone ever tell you that?"

"I don't usually speak wis 'alf-bloods, especially ones married to werewolves."

"Hey, don't be so self-conscious. We're an accepting lot. The stick in your ass is hardly noticeable in this light. I'm willing to ignore it if you are."

It took the healer a bit too long to piece together what the other woman said, and by the time she did Hagrid's hut was in sight. She wrinkled her nose at the small little abode, but briskly walked up, Tonks right on her heels the whole time. She could hear a dog barking madly at their approach and a gruff voice demanding silence, before the door was swung open.

"I am Healer Durand," she introduced, waiting for the man to allow her entrance.

"Come in, come in," the giant waved, moving to the side.

She nodded and held out her hands for her wand and bag. Tonks gave them to her, but maintained her focus on Hagrid.

"Hagrid what's—"

"As you can see I was summoned, so you may return back to your post," the healer said, going up the few small stairs leading to the door. The area was completely open, the kitchen, living room and bedroom all seemed to be just one giant room. It was cluttered and there were clothes thrown over chairs and pots and pans out that didn't have the opportunity to fit in an already overflowing cabinet.

And then there was Graces, sitting on the bed with a coat that could be a tent wrapped around her. She stared at the bruising on her neck in the shape of nails, her exposed collarbone and missing shoe before looking away and pretending to busy herself with taking off her scarf while she tried to figure out what to do.

"Merlin's beard, what happened?"

Durand turned at the Auror's words, she had not realized that the woman had stayed. She turned and looked at Graces waiting for an answer as well. The blonde didn't give any though, she continued to just sit shaking violently on the bed.

Shock. She was in shock.

"Hagrid," Tonks continued, her hair turning from pink to a more somber shade of mousy blonde. "What happened?"

The burly man leaned forward and whispered something in the auror's ear before choking back a sob and looking down. Tonks didn't move, didn't even seem to breathe. Her face paled and her mouth opened ever so slightly before she stared at her cousin.

Graces glared at Hagrid with such hatred and betrayal she was surprised he didn't burst into flame.

"Auror Tonks was guarding ze entrance. She insisted on escorting me," Durand said gently, coming closer and blocking anyone's view.

"Make her leave," Graces ordered, her voice a strained whisper leading the others to believe she had either screamed for help for a while, or the bruising on her neck caused more damage than to just the skin.

The healer nodded and turned her chin to the door, silently directing the other woman to leave. She didn't though, she stood there staring at her, seeing everything Graces didn't want her to see. The bloodied hair with no head injury, the bruising around her neck showing the marks of Nott's fingers. Her exposed collarbone. The fingernail missing from her right hand's middle finger and the bruised cheek that clearly came from a punch.

Tonks moved forward, pushing Durand's hand away as she went to Graces. The younger girl flinched as the auror moved her hair to get a better look at the bruising on her neck.

"Who di—"

"Get away from me!" Graces growled, slapping the other woman's hand away and biting back a yelp as her mangled hand made contact with the other woman's. "No one did this to me," she hissed, turning and looking away. "I got trampled by the thestrals."

No one in the room believed Graces' words, and it was obvious that Graces herself knew her excuse to be poor.

"I insist on being alone wif my patient," the healer demanded, stopping the auror from her interrogation before it began. " _Immediately._ "

Tonks seemed dangerously close to refusing, but Hagrid quietly beckoned for her to come with him outside. The auror's mouth twisted, but she begrudgingly obeyed.

"I would think that we all would want to keep this quiet," Graces began gently, stopping Tonks and Hagrid in the doorway. "I do like the thestrals, but if we go to the school, if anyone outside our party discusses this, then my mother would not hesitate in going to the Ministry to have each and every one of them put down for causing me such injuries. I would hate for this incident to turn into one like the hippogriff's. It really would be a shame."

"Don' say that," Hagrid pleaded. "You know they were only trying to help you. You wouldn't do 'at. You love 'em just as much as I do."

Graces took a deep breathe and her body tightened. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "But that's what happened. My story will not change."

"You don't need to be frightened," Tonks said gently. "Whoever your attacker is won—"

"I had no attacker," Graces maintained. "It was only the thestrals. If you do not wish any harm to come to them, then I suggest you not go making up any stories about what you think happened here. It would be better for all parities if this _accident_ was kept between us four."

Tonks stared at her, stared at her for a long time before finding her words.

"Not saying what happened won't make this go away. It's not going to change what happened, but telling us will at least change the aftermath. It will at the very least bring you justice. I swear it will."

Graces featured darkened, and her pretty bloodstained lips tightened before saying "Only the righteous seek justice."


	84. Chapter 84

"I can't believe you would let her leave," Tonks murmured disdainfully. The healer could feel her eyes burning a hole in the back of her head, but she did her best to ignore it.

"Exactly what is it you would want me to do? Hold her 'ostage?"

"Maybe! You should have made her stay!" Tonks cried out, slamming her fist down into the table. Durand ignored the woman shouting at her and continued to pack her things. "You should have made her talk! Figured out what happened, and who did this to her. Don't you care? She was raped! She was obviously—"

"I am not able to discuss my patient wif you." Durand yanked her bag up and turned towards the door, but the giant was now standing before it. "Let me pass."

The man before flushed, but didn't move. "Won't you sit for a cup of tea. Been a late night," he added gruffly.

"It has been," Durand stated icily. "And I would like to go home."

The giant of a man before her sniffed and swallowed, unsettling the woman with such a display of emotion before tearfully asking her to reconsider. "We jus' care," he wept, taking out a dirty handkerchief and blowing his nose. "Never in all my years saw anything that made me sick like tha' did. She's all alone and-and we want to help. Please, please sit down and help us. We want to help her."

"Let her go, Hagrid. She wouldn't help anyways. She doesn't care."

"Zat is not true!" Durand snapped, whirling around and glaring at the other woman across the room. "How dare you!"

"If you care so much than help us! Help us find out who did this!"

"And what is it you fink I can do?" the healer exclaimed, throwing down her bags unceremoniously in a heap on the floor. "What? If she says nofing happened zen I cannot do anyfing!"

"You saw her markings, you saw—"

"I cannot say anyfing about what I saw! She has rights! I have a code of etics! I am not allowed to talk about anyfing I saw wizout her consent!"

"She's a minor! You could tell—"

"Her brozer," Durrand finished. "You fink zat would be wise? Ze boy is a child 'imself."

"You could tell her mother," Tonks bit out.

"No, I couldn't."

"Why not?!"

"You don't understand zis family. I could not go to her mozer," Durand said darkly. "Graces needs to feel safe and she has made her choice on this matter. I will not force zis decision on her."

"She's scared. She is only making this choice because she's scared," Tonks argued.

"I know Graces. I've known her for her whole life," the healer said gently. "Fear is not ze reason. Zere is more. Much more."

Durand took a deep breathe along with everyone else in the room before sitting down warily. "She will not say what happened. She insists it was ze festrals. She refused a pelvic exam. She said zere was no need," the older woman repeated, her nose wrinkling.

"We should tell the headmaster or—"

"If we do, we risk her maintaining her story and not asking for help when she needs it." Durand sighed. "Zis is not just about patient confidentiality. If we betray her she will never go to us for help again. Never. Not to mention ze psychological impact. No. It's better to maintain her privacy and watch her. Be zere for her if she needs us." She looked around at the people in the room. "Well, if she needs _me_."

"I should never have given her that key," Hagrid blubbered, sitting in a chair near her. "She loved the thestrals so much though, and I never thought anything like this would happen. And she looked so-so worn for wear this year. It can't be easy losing your father like that. I remember losing mine. She was so happy when I let her keep the key to the barn. Never saw any of that lot smile so genuinely."

"It was terapeutic."

"Wha?" Hagrid looked up from the nasty piece of cloth he was holding.

"Terapeutic. Ferapeutic," the healer stressed, when she realized the people around her still were not in understanding. "Calming."

"Therapeutic," Tonks deadpanned.

"Oui. Zat is what I said. Verapeutic," the healer repeated, sure she said it correctly.

She flushed slightly and looked down at her nails. "It's good you let her be with zem... Zis year hasn't been easy for her."

She thought about all that Graces had lost in such a short amount of time. Everything she had seen her and her brother go through. She remembered treating them for simple things. Broken bones, fevers. That time now seemed so long ago. They were such different people now. Strong and broken, no longer carefree. No longer happy.

She closed her eyes and tried to rid herself of her memories.

"I-I saw her with the Montague boy earlier today," Hagrid revealed quietly. "He-he seemed to be pressing her. Tried to kiss her a few times, but she pushed him away. Do you think—"

"Graham Montague would never do zis."

"How do you know that?" Tonks demanded. "He—"

"I know ze Montague family. Graham would never. He was practically raised by his sisters. He would never do such a thing. Not ever."

"You can't know that."

"It doesn't matter. She insists nofing happened."

"I could still question him."

"What good would zat do? Without her testimony our hands are tied."

"You know what this could do to her," Tonks pressed, leaning over the table. "This will eat her up. It will slowly destroy her. And she isn't too old for it to not turn dangerous. Her magic could—"

"You don't fink I am finking about that? I am. But it changes nofing. Zis is her choice. Why are you doing zis? Interrogating me like I'm to blame? I cannot do anyfing."

"That's exactly why I'm interrogating you! You need to convince her to talk! You examined her for all of five minutes before—"

"I examined and healed her for an 'our! You don't fink I pressed; that I asked?"

"You weren't forceful. I know you weren't. You—"

"Because I want my patient to be comfortable!"

"Because you want to keep your job," Tonks countered in disgust. "You enjoy only having to work a few days out of the year while getting a salary triple what the average healer makes. Don't pretend you care about that girl. You want to hold your job, and you know if Graces felt you betrayed her you would be sacked and actually have to work like the rest of us."

"I am paid to keep secrets," Durand said darkly, her voice letting the auror know how dangerously close she was to losing her patience. "It does not mean I don't care. Nor does it mean my work is easy. I have zis job because I am ze best. Being ze best is not easy and I work very 'ard. And I work 'ard because I care! Not every healer can do what I can do. And so you realize ze fact zat I am sitting here discussing zis wif you at all shows I care! Zey could fire me for zis!"

"Well if you're already going to hell, do it in style and tell me something!"

"What could I possibly tell you?" Durand demanded. "Her injuries all coincide with her story! Zey were all from ze festrals!"

"The bruising on her neck."

"She insists she did zat, covering her neck in case of injury. She said she must have gripped it too hard."

"The blood in her hair!"

"She claims it was ze festrals' blood. And some were indeed injured."

"The torn clothes."

"From ze trampling."

"There had to have been something."

"Even if zere was what good would it do?! She refuses—"

"Then talk to her!"

"We are not getting anywhere." The healer stood abruptly and went to where she dropped her things. "Ze same fing again and again. We are... how do you say, going round in a circle. I can't do zis any longer. She is _my_ patient and _**I**_ _—_ " she emphasized _"—_ will treat her."

"She could become dangerous living with this, she—"

"So you have said," Durand reminded, turning around in exhaustion. "Saying ze same fings over and over is not going to change anyfing. You want to talk until you feel better about what has happened, but nofing could ever make zis better. Could ever make any of us feel better about our situation. We must honor her wishes. No matter our disagreements. She is ze patient, zis 'appened to her. I will keep an eye on her. I will counsel her frough zis as much as I can, but I will not force her to do anyfing. If and when she wants justice she can seek it. Until zen, au revoir."

"You do what you want! We're going to the Headmaster!"

The healer stopped on the steps and closed her eyes before turning and facing the other two.

"I beg you not to. She is old enough to leave. We cannot force her to still attend school. And she will leave. She is not going to walk around zese halls as ze witch zat was raped in ze barn. You go to the Headmaster now, when she's not ready, when she's ashamed, you will destroy her life."

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_***** July, 1992***** _

Graces sat farther back in the leather chair as her father walked into his his office. She wasn't supposed to be in here. This was her father's area, but with age came privilege. And, though she wasn't technically allowed to just come into his office and take his things, he hadn't become upset the last few times she had taken the odd book here and there.

He raised an eyebrow at her as though trying to decide if he was to punish her for being there at all or if he was going to let her be.

"If you're going to do something you shouldn't be doing, Graces, at least do it with confidence."

She smiled.

"What are you reading?"

She shrugged and played idly with the leather binding. "Just a book that looked interesting."

Her father stared at her for a moment before he finished removing his cloak. She watched as he ever so carefully placed it on his desk's chair before walking over to her and taking the spell book out of her hands to read.

His gray eyes stared at the gold lettering before slowly looking back to her matching gray.

"Is there a reason you are looking at this book?"

Graces shrugged and tried to mimic her mother's poise. "It looked interesting."

"Did it?" Lucius asked, walking around his desk and sitting down. Still holding the book lazily in his hand. "I don't know if I want my twelve year old daughter reading about blood magic."

Graces sucked on her tooth and looked away.

"I wasn't doing anything. I was just reading about it," Graces said petulantly.

"Graces Bellatrix Malfoy, you better adjust your tone with me lest you want me to come over and adjust it myself."

She flushed and shook her head before murmuring an apology.

"That's better," Lucius sighed, sitting back in his chair and staring at her. "Do you understand what you're reading?"

Graces scowled at the question. Of course she understood what she was reading. She wasn't an idiot. She knew English.

"Yes."

Her father chuckled. "Such a child," he murmured, a little too happily.

She wanted to argue that she was not a child, but bit her tongue. Her father would warn her once, not twice.

"Tell me what you read," Lucius demanded, an amused smile on his aristocratic face.

Graces took a moment to think. The last thing she wanted was to sound foolish in front of her father.

"I read about a spell that allows one to transfer their magic to another. Another spell that allows you to make an enemy forever feel your own pain. I read about—"

"What did all these spells have in common?" her father interrupted.

Graces opened her mouth to say blood, but then stopped. That was a little too obvious. She must be missing something.

"Go on," her father encouraged. "I don't expect you to actually know."

Her cheeks flushed before she said blood.

Lucius nodded and Graces could tell he was fighting the urge to grin. "Come here, Graces."

Graces stared at her father warily. "Am I in trouble?"

"If you were would it change whether or not you came to me?" Lucius challenged.

Graces wondered if she was about to be punished as she walked over to where her father sat regally. He stared at her for a long time, examining her.

"Maybe not so much a child anymore," he said quietly, gently brushing her hair away from her face. "But not a grown witch either."

She flushed at her father's words, now very conscious of her slowly budding body.

"The thing that all those potions and spells have in common is intimacy, Graces. Very real and profound intimacy. It requires feeling to make them work, sacrifice on your own part—sacrifice in either your magic or your flesh—and in the end, if it grants you what you desire, a lasting connection to the person you used the magic on."

He tilted her chin so she was meeting his eyes. "And there is always, always a great chance that it won't work. That the magic will not obey. If that happens, Graces, it will hurt you. It can kill you. Do you understand? Magic like this is wild. It doesn't answer to anyone. It can choose to obey you or not."

"If I'm a very powerful witch would it obey?"

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "If it _likes_ you it will obey. Or if so desires to do so at the time."

Lucius watched the wheels turning in his daughter's mind and a small prick of worry dwelled up in him.

"Graces." Graces could hear her father's worry, before looking up and seeing it in his face. "You must never use this magic. Not ever. Do you understand?"

"But what if—"

"You have wealth, power and status. You will never be in a situation where you will need to sacrifice yourself. If someone dares to hurt you I will take care of it. Do you understand me?"

"I'm not worried about that," Graces laughed, as though the idea of anyone daring to hurt her was foolish. "I just wanted to read it."

Lucius leaned back and brought a finger to his lips in thought, before sending a house elf for Narcissa. Graces stood waiting for her mother, unsure of what was about to transpire. When her mother entered she looked over at Graces standing behind the desk with her father for a brief moment before waiting for her husband to tell her what was going on.

"How do you feel about your daughter reading about blood magic and other dark arts?"

It wasn't asked in a menacing way, and after a few moments she realized her father was asking permission.

Narcissa raised her chin in thought before holding her hand out for Graces to come to her.

"Is there a reason you are asking this?" she asked gently.

"She has expressed an interest."

Her mother looked down at her, in the same manner her father had looked at her, with realization that she was not so young and innocent as they had wished.

Narcissa swallowed some emotion. "Her mind should never be deprived of knowledge when it's ready for it." She nodded, as though she were trying to convince herself of this fact. "But I don't want her practicing it."

"I am in agreement with that," Lucius nodded.

"Nor do I want her studying it alone." Narcissa stipulated.

"Of course not."

Her mother nodded and stood there as though there was more to be said, but she wasn't sure what.

"You will teach them then," Lucius decided, holding out the book for Graces to take, while still holding his wife's gaze.

"Not you?" Graces asked, surprised that her father wouldn't want to teach her.

"Your mother always had better marks than I did... And she has a control which I lack."

"Are you doubting my capabilities?" Narcissa asked, her voice carrying a warning.

"No," Graces said quickly. "I just—I just never saw you use dark magic."

"Have you seen your father use it?" Narcissa's eyes darted to her husband in a way that let him know his daughter's answer would decide his fate.

"No," Graces realized. "I haven't." She stood there for a moment pondering this, before looking at her father. "But I-I sense it on him. Like the objects in the house I'm not to touch."

The harshness in her mother's face relaxed. "We will discuss that as well in our lessons," she said quietly, now guiding her away from her father.

"Graces." Graces turned in the doorway at her father's call. "You listen to your mother. She is far wiser than me."

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The cauldron sat ominously before her. Mocking her. Her fears, her weaknesses. She looked about the dark dungeon classroom and closed her eyes, willing even a shadow of who she was before the war to come back. She wanted her old confidence. Her ability to laugh at those who wished her to fall. She yearned for that old feeling of invincibility.

She didn't want this feeling of helplessness weighing her down any longer. She tightened her eyes and prayed for anger. Rage, bloodlust. Nott had cornered her, violated her and she was not going to be his victim any longer, his cornered mouse to play with as he pleased.

She was going to not bury him, but force him to live submissive. If he took her down to the gates of hell, she would drag him through the doors with her. And even should he not and she be dragged by others, she would still take him along. He would be punished along with her for the rest of his miserable existence. Any pain she felt he would feel.

She stood from the ground, an old leather book clutched close to her chest. Blood magic—her father always warned—is dangerous because of how intimate it was. You give more of yourself in these spells and you are forced to sacrifice to allow it to work. It's not controllable, it's wild. It sees and decides all, knowing no master.

This spell would decide. She could do all of the brewing correctly, and say all incantations perfectly and it could choose to not work. Choose to turn against her.

She ran her hands through the blood soaked part of her hair. Blood magic was forbidden for good reasons. She once again considered her decision. Was it worth the possible cost? She stared at the dried blood. He hadn't succeeded and yet something inside her was screaming as if he had.

Slowly, she picked up the dagger on the table, silently praying to the gods she had always looked to for vengeance and strength. The blade was so sharp it cut through her hair like a spider web. She didn't even feel a tug of resistance.

It was the first time since she was old enough to remember that she couldn't feel the weight of her hair on her back. She searched up and discovered the ends barely past her chin and a slight panic went through her belly.

It's just hair she reminded herself angrily. Only hair. She chopped off the rest off with much more confidence making sure every bloody strand landed in the empty pot.

She looked up at her reflection in an old stowed away mirror. Her bruised cheek, cut lip and bloodied collarbone were all healed. And now all that remained was a mixture of her and Nott's dried blood on her. She didn't recognize the girl staring back at her and she was glad for it.

That person across from her was going to change her world. She lit the fire under the cauldron and breathed in the scent of burning hair and blood. She worked fervently through the night, adding in her ingredients with such precision she didn't even feel as though it were here hands working. She gave herself over to the dark magic dancing around her. It fed her anger, her pain and drowned her in bloodlust.

Nott would pay and the pain she would go through to bring that pain would be worth it. She laughed as she imagined him pleading for his life to end, knowing she would grant him that mercy. She wondered if he would take his own life. She hoped he would. After a month or two she would go to that funeral and smile brightly down at him before he was lowered in the ground forever.

She was so enthralled with her fantasy she didn't even flinch as she cut her left palm to bleed into the almost finished potion. She took a step back as the brew finished, waiting on baited breath for the color to change from red to black. It didn't take long, it turned after a few moments. She trembled as she filled a small vial. It had worked. It was there.

All she needed to do now was take it and see if it worked. She brought it to her lips but stopped. Stopped as though an invisible hand was holding her back. And suddenly the vengeance she wanted all night, she didn't want any longer. All she wanted now was Neville.

She corked the vial and put it down on the table, stepping away and covering her mouth. The magic that had been dancing around her stilled and she was now saddled with harsh reality. She looked at the vial in front of her. It would give her no comfort, no joy, just fuel this hurt and anger inside of her. But Neville could.

She pocketed the vial and practically ran to their room only to discover Neville was not there.


	85. Chapter 85

"Mr. Montague, I would like a word with you."

Graham paused in his stride to the breakfast table and looked back to see an Auror approaching him. Not just any Auror, he noted, Draco's cousin. He elegantly raised his eyebrow, curious as to how his morning had become so interesting.

"Regarding?"

"I have some questions."

" _Regarding_?" Graham emphasized, annoyed.

"Your whereabouts last night," the Auror replied coolly, her eyes seeming to darken a considerable amount of shades.

Graham paused. "Am I under suspicion of a crime?"

"Just come with me," Tonks—he believed her last name was Tonks—demanded. Graham made a mental note to brush up on his pureblood gossip. He knew the general story of how this woman came to be, but he never paid attention to the names.

Graham's eyes lazily appraised the woman in front of him. "No, I don't think I will. Not unless you are charging me with a crime."

The lines around the woman's eyes tightened. Graham noted that they tightened very similarly to how Draco's did when he was getting annoyed with him. "You're refusing to be questioned?" she challenged.

"Obviously," Graham drawled lazily.

"Why?"

Graham purposely allowed his mask to slip. In a feign of surprise and indignation. "Because you're not charging me with anything and seem reluctant to explain what you want to question me about. It appears to me that the only reason for such a course of action is to hope I will incriminate myself."

"You seem awfully paranoid for an innocent man."

Graham narrowed his eyes, but refused the bait. He wondered how it was that someone related to Draco so closely could not know how to control their emotions. Granted, Draco and Graces weren't always that good at maintaining their appearances, but they had never been this bad in such a public setting. With a stranger. Looking at this Auror was like reading a book. He could read her far too easily. And from what he was reading he could tell she didn't like him and was already far too irritated with him. He idly wondered if this was a Black trait and then quickly pushed that thought from his head. He regarded Narcissa too highly.

"Where were you last night, Mr. Montague?" the woman before him asked suspiciously.

"Again—" Graham began, his words cold and hard in challenge and contempt "—what does that matter to you?"

"He was with us." Graham turned at Draco's voice. The blond met his eyes briefly, before they turned back to Auror Tonks. Graham smirked, trying to goad the Auror with his smile, when he caught a glimpse of Graces standing a few steps back from Draco.

"You cut your hair," Graham frowned, his eyes not straying from Graces despite how she obviously seemed to wish they would. She gave a small nod and moved closer to her brother. "Why on earth did you do that? You look like Draco."

"It's not that short." Graces flushed, her hands moving to touch the ends of her hair as though she needed reassurance that it truly wasn't that short.

"What? You don't find me handsome, Montague?" Draco challenged, his silver eyes giving him a warning.

Graham gave Draco an assessing look and grinned. "I'd find you more handsome if you had longer hair."

Draco's eyes narrowed and Graham had to turn away so that he wouldn't laugh, or point out that his cousin and him shared the same expression.

"He was with both of you? All night?" Tonks asked slowly, breaking Graham's attention from Draco.

Draco said "yes" at the same time Graces said "no."

Graham and Draco both stared at Graces as she denied Graham's presence. Graham hadn't thought he offended Graces too greatly yesterday afternoon, but now... now he wondered if he had.

"Yes, he was," Draco growled, his eyes glowering at his sister. "All night."

Graham watched as Graces struggled to swallow some emotion. She looked as though she were close to trembling.

"Not with me," she insisted. "I went to bed early, remember?"

Both boys gave Graces a curious stare before nodding and quietly proclaiming that they forgot. The Auror watched them all with insight that made it hard to stand still.

"Don't lie for him," Tonks hissed, her eyes glaring at Draco. No, not glaring, Graham realized, pleading.

Draco raised a cool eyebrow. "I'm not, and how dare you accuse me of lying?"

"You _are_ lying," Tonks accused.

"Prove it." That was Graces' voice, so tense, quiet and cold that Graham found himself having to take a step back. The Auror stared back at her with a familiarity that felt wrong given the situation. "That's what I thought," Graces sneered, taking Graham by his arm and leading him away.

She was trembling. He could feel her body vibrating against his, but he didn't know what to make of it. What to say to it. He looked over at Draco and the other boy didn't seem to notice. He apparently had his own thoughts to attend to.

"So where were you last night?" Draco asked quietly, taking the seat across from him.

Graham flicked him a glance before clearing his throat. "Honestly. I, uh, was in my room all night." Draco's brows twitched together, but he waited for more. Unfortunately, there really wasn't more. "Truly, I was."

"Oh," Draco breathed, slightly deflated.

"Did you want me to be out committing crimes?" Graham asked, taking a sip of his tea.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course not."

"You sure? You seemed a bit put out."

"I'm not put out."

Graham smirked a little in his tea. "Missed me last night, Malfoy?"

"Missed your help," Draco corrected, taking his wand and putting up a silencing ward around them. "Now, if you're done flirting with me, I would like to actually talk to you."

"Don't like flirting with me, Malfoy? I'm not pretty enough for you?"

Draco gave him a flat, unreadable look before continuing. "I want to discuss other things. Such as the siren."

"I don't," Graham said coolly, vaguely aware that Graces was leaving the table without so much as a goodbye or a bite of breakfast.

" _I. Do_ ," Draco intoned slowly. "She threatened you. She threatened my sister. She threatened me. And now I want to talk about this threat looming over us."

"I believe she said that so long as we left her in peace she would do the same."

Draco frowned. "She attacked you, Graham," he breathed, his body tensing at the memory. "She slashed your face. She—"

"I attacked her first, and it was much more violent. Trust me."

"Graham," Draco began, meeting his eyes with an incredulous look. "What were you—"

"Draco," Graham interrupted, letting his anger seep into his voice. "I am done talking about this. We keep away from her. And thus keep the danger at bay. Understood?"

The blonde snorted and looked like he was going to make another snide remark, causing Graham to bang his fist on the table while repeating that it was done. Draco flinched but said nothing else. Graham ground his teeth as the boy in front of him kept his eyes down as he finished the little bit of porridge he had in his bowl. For the first time he wondered if Draco was afraid of him.

Draco knew that he had killed, and after the incident the other day he probably thought that he got a kick out of attacking those he deemed inferior. Not to mention he had tortured Draco.

"Draco," Graham began, trying a gentler tone that he was sure didn't sound natural on his tongue. "I'm sorry. I'm just—" He thought for a moment. "—embarrassed."

"It's fine," Draco shrugged, waving his hand in dismissal.

"No. It's not." Graham took a breath. "I don't want you frightened of me, Draco."

"I'm not."

"You flinched."

Draco looked away as a flush crept up on his neck.

"I don't want you frightened of me," Graham whispered, thinking of the look in his father's eyes when he saw the mark. "You don't need to be frightened of me. I know I have hurt you, but never because I wanted to."

Draco pushed his bowl away and stood, gathering his belongings so that he could leave. He avoided Graham's eyes as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder.

"I didn't flinch because I was afraid you would hurt me. I flinched because... because you're the only one who talks or spends any time with me these days. Even Graces—when she is around—seems distracted," he said tightly, his eyes still anywhere but on Graham. "And I couldn't bear it if you were mad at me. I couldn't bear to be truly alone."

Draco left and Graham stifled the impulse to follow him. It was too vulnerable a moment and he suspected—based on how and when Draco made his declaration—he wanted to be alone after saying it. Not to mention he wasn't sure he could react to Draco's words in a way that would make him feel any better. So he sat with his breakfast and tried not to think about how lonely Draco must have been last night or what a horrible friend he was to him for not telling him about Sunder... or Graces and Longbottom.

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She didn't know where to begin. She felt as though snakes were squirming in her belly. She had felt like that since Nott's attack. The uncomfortable sensation of wrong. There were no other words for it than wrong. How could she look at Neville and explain to him what happened to her? Why she wasn't there. She knew she needed to. She just didn't know how.

She felt alone and isolated. Scared and unsure. She closed her eyes and willed herself to gather. She needed control. Not perfect control, but some.

Students began gathering around her. She ignored the glances, the lingering stares at her hair. Her face _. They can't see,_ she promised herself. She was shaken, but not shaking. She moved her eyes down to the wood of her desk and practiced breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. She was okay. It was okay. Just another normal day. Just another boring day in Herbology.

She could feel Neville approaching and a tremor went down her spine as her heart pounded in her throat. She couldn't move her eyes from the desk. Even as he took the seat beside her and she could feel his eyes taking in her short hair. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't even breathe.

Neville began arranging the desk. Every second of his silence hammered into her and it took all her will not to let the tears come. She had to say something. She had to. Sprout had already begun class, and still Graces tried to find her voice. The class couldn't end without a word. She needed to say something. She had to.

"I wanted to be there," she began, in a voice that was barely a whisper.

"Then you would have been there."

She knew that Neville was going to be angry. He didn't know what really happened. But despite that, the harshness of his words sliced through her defenses and she covered her mouth to hold in her sob, though she could do nothing for the tears that came. She tried to stop it, the crumbling of her walls. The crumbling that was about to expose her agony to the class, but it was going. It was falling apart. She now realized she had been in shock, like the healer said and the shock was giving way. It was giving way right now. She couldn't breathe, she was almost gagging on her own tears. She didn't need to look at Neville to see his shock, she could feel his startlement. But she couldn't stop the pain. It all hurt and his hurtful words had taken her last defense.

But before anyone, other than Neville, could notice her world crumbling a gentle hand was on her shoulder. But it wasn't on her right where Neville was sitting, it was her left. She stared up at Hagrid looming beside her, his body shifting so that no one other than Neville could see her face.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Take a breath. I'm taking you out of class."

The shock of Hagrid being there at all was enough to allow her to somewhat gather herself. Her heart was still pounding, but she held her breath and stopped the tears. She even managed to ensure her face only showed surprise and not pain and anguish.

"Hope ya don' mind, Professor Sprout, but I need ta borrow Miss Malfoy for the day. It's rather urgent."

The other professor scowled and asked what he needed with the her.

"Have a few hurt thestrals, I'm not so good with healing spells, but I was told Miss Malfoy here is. And the thestrals that need tending to have a fondness for the girl."

Professor Sprout nodded and then continued on with her lesson. Graces gathered her things the best she could, avoiding eye contact with Neville and focused on making her breaths come more naturally.

"Come on," Hagrid whispered gently, taking her out of the greenhouse, his strong hand warming the spot between her shoulder blades. It should have been comforting, but it wasn't. Nothing could comfort her from the storm raging inside her.

She could feel her magic lashing out inside of her and she was desperately struggling to regain control. She shook with the effort and didn't dare take a breath lest it break free.

"It's okay," Hagrid cooed. "All is well. It's okay."

It wasn't though. It was very far from. The half giant tried to comfort her as they exited the greenhouse, his hands moving in soothing circles on her back and he whispered words she wasn't paying attention to. She felt it coming, though, like a snake whipping around inside of her. Threatening to lash out at any moment. So she did what the only thing she could think of.

She ran. Sprinted as fast as she possibly could and as far as she could from the school. She was like a doe weaving in the forest, leaping over trunks and fallen branches on the Forbidden Forest's floor until she found a clearing. She dropped down to her knees and suddenly she was four years old again. Desperately trying to hold in her accidental magic until her father picked her up and ran to a far side of the mansion. She still remembered his strong arms pulling hers apart, forcing her to hold her hands out as far as possible from her chest as he shook her and violently told her to let it go.

It had been like bile coming up in her then. Bile she wanted to hold in, but her father forced it out of her. She had shattered the windows in the room, shards flew around them violently in a storm of her own making and still her father held her, soothing her with words of pride even as she cried. My powerful little witch, he called her. He had grinned from ear to ear as he surveyed the damage of her temper tantrum, called her mother in and lifted her high up on his shoulder, splotched cheeks and all. Magic, he said, was never to be held in like that. Under no circumstances was she to suppress her magic.

Tears burned her eyes at the memory assaulting her with her already whirly emotions. She looked around through bleary eyes at the damage she had caused in the clearing. Fire climbed up into the trees and swirled around her, the flames licking at anything in its reach. She tried to breathe, to calm herself enough to pull it back into her. She was too old for this, for her magic to be so tied to her emotions, for it to burst forth like this. Children had accidental magic and she was no longer a child.

She focused on putting out the flames. Her magic danced at the opportunity to have a target and seemed to work through her wand with merely her thoughts. For a moment she wondered if she could cast non-verbal spells but chose to speak anyways, needing the normalcy. She wished her mother was there. Her mother was always so gentle with her when her accidental magic flared. She closed her eyes and could hear her mother's gentle voice telling her to focus on breathing and to use her wand. _Calm yourself and give your magic something to do,_ she would say, waiting patiently for Graces to obey. The memory alone calmed her more and she was able to stop all of the flames. She stood in the clearing assessing the damage for a moment before a gentle cough alerted her that she wasn't alone.

"It's okay, Graces," Hagrid murmured softly, not moving forward from the edge of the clearing where he was watching her.

"You can't make me talk!" Graces snarled, backing away and once again trying to regain control of herself as a flame whipped out towards the older man. "You can't!"

She needed him to leave. Just looking at him was tearing down her newly built walls.

"I know that," Hagrid nodded, putting his hands up in surrender.

"I don't have to listen to you either! You can't persuade me."

"I swear, Graces, I have no intention of trying to make you."

She stood there for a moment, her ragged breath the only sound.

"Then why did you take me out of class?"

The older man sighed and nervously touched the back of his head. "Cause I reckoned you needed a day. Some time to be alone with your thoughts." Graces frowned but didn't say anything. She waited for him to continue. "I have lots of stuff for you to do today, just busywork really, work I find calming. You're excused from all of your classes, I saw to that. An I didn' tell anyone anything."

It was too much. It was everything she needed. She gently pressed into the giant's head with her Legilimency to see if this was a trick, if he did have some motivation, some hope she would come out with the truth. He didn't.

"Why?" she rasped. Choosing not to search his mind for the reason and invade his privacy further. "Why would you do that?"

Hagrid's face fell. "Cause I-I know what it's like to have someone hurt you and-and to not want to talk about it. To know talking about it wouldn't change anything and the person who hurt me would still get away with it. I know what it's like to feel ashamed of something that's not my fault."

"Nothing happened to me," Graces denied, turning away and wrapping her arms about her.

"It's not the same," Hagrid hiccuped, ignoring her words. "Being half giant isn't the same as what happened to you. But- but I figured what you're feeling is worse. And I just want to try to give you peace, love. Just for a few days. If you'll let me."

She closed her eyes and tried to deny that she needed this. Nott had not succeeded. He hadn't. She should be fine. Relieved. Not trembling as she was now and forcing the bile back down into her throat. She was okay. She was healed. She was okay. Fine.

She felt Hagrid's tentative hands move onto her shoulders, stilling the shivers that were overwhelming her.

"You don't have to talk, Graces. Just come with me. Help me around the castle. Surely, you realize you can't go to class. You need this time. Just come with me."

"I can handle my magic," Graces snapped, knowing it to be a lie, but saying it nonetheless.

"I don't doubt that," Hagrid answered calmly. "But that's not good for you, is it? If you come with me you won't need to handle it. And I can put it to use. We can center you in a task that allows you to use your magic but be alone with your thoughts."

"You're not worried for yourself?" Graces asked darkly, her silver eyes moving to glare up at the professor.

"Professors are trained to handle accidental magic."

"I'm not a first year," Graces sneered. "My magic is more powerful than younger students'... and more deadly."

"I have faith in your control." She still shook her head. She couldn't take this. Taking this would admit that something had happened. "And I really could use your help, Graces. I'm not very good with healing spells. I do need some help."

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She could not take this. She couldn't. But as much as her mind told her that, she found herself allowing Hagrid to gently guide her out of the Forbidden Forest. It all felt like a dream.

No. A nightmare, she corrected as she saw the barn looming ahead. She stiffened and tried to drown her panic as she realized Hagrid was taking her there. Her Malfoy mask couldn't serve her, no matter how hard she tried to pull it up. She stopped moving forward and stared down at her shoes, closing her eyes.

Hagrid didn't press; he just waited. Graces felt heat rising to her cheeks, but didn't say anything. She knew she was behaving badly, and that this giant was seeing it. She didn't feel like a Malfoy, like someone raised to be proud. She could hear her father scolding her in the back of her mind. Telling her to smooth out her face, to control her actions if she could not control her emotions.

"I should have known you would be scared to go in there," Hagrid said softly.

Graces shook her head at the understanding in his voice. Hagrid tried to guide her away, but she yanked out from under his hands. She would not be a coward. It was only a place. Only a barn, she snarled at herself. Walking foward to the doors and ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach.

She was a witch. She was a powerful being that could demolish this whole wooden shack with a flick of her wand. She would not be afraid. She held her shoulders back and approached the barn like Neville would. Like a Gryffindor would.

"Graces," Hagrid murmured gently, again trying to stop her.

"I want to help them," Graces growled. "I want to heal them."

"I don't need to bring you into the barn to do that."

"I need to go into the barn." Graces didn't know where the words came from, but there they were hanging out in the open air. She stared up at Hagrid, willing him to understand without further explanation. His lips pursed slightly and he nodded, following her a few steps back as she met with the barn doors and pushed them open.

She didn't know why she expected it to look different. Like her assault would cloud it, but she did expect that. And it didn't. It looked perfectly ordinary. There was not even a drop of the blood that had been spilled between them. The doors that the thestrals had broken on their pens were all fixed and the hay was all neatly stacked.

The only thing different was the nasty slashes on the animals locked in their pens. It took her breath away to see the pain inflicted on them. Pain they took on her behalf. She didn't know how she felt about such innocence being sacrificed on her behalf.

She swallowed some of her emotions and approached one of the pens. And she knew with certainty that there was recognition in those milky eyes. Real recognition and real emotions. Emotions that were for her.

"They musta been worried about you," Hagrid commented, watching the thestral stare down at her. He handed her a jar of some nasty smelling salve. "Apply it gently. Make sure it's thick on top of the wounds. It will heal them up good as new after a few days."

She stared at the nasty cut. It seemed to be healed somewhat, but the skin was scabbed over angrily.

"We couldn't heal it fully with a spell?" She asked quietly, already moving for her wand.

"It's not the same as human skin," Hagrid said sadly. "No spell has been invented specifically for their hides... This is as much as can be accomplished for 'em at the moment. I'll have you do a few healing spells on some others with deeper cuts, I'm not talented enough with healing spells for those ones, but it won't matter how much talent you have it won't heal 'em the same way. But the salve will be applied for a few days and it will eventually give the same results."

Graces nodded and went to work. Throwing herself over to the task at hand. It was much harder than she realized to get the deeper cuts to heal even somewhat with the spells she knew. But she always managed to get them to the point where the skin met together, so there was no gaping wounds. They were all so lucky that Nott didn't manage to get his dagger in deeper. The salve stayed well, but some of the thestrals kept licking it off, causing her to have to go back and reapply.

Hagrid answered her questions when she had them, but seemed content to leave her in silence and give her as much space as he seemed comfortable with. She was a bit surprised. She honestly thought he would be chatting her ear off, but he didn't. He gave her tranquility. He was always within ear reach for if she did want to speak, but he didn't say anything to her. And on the occasion where a few tears did break loose from her, he didn't comment on them.

She was free to cry, to think and to rage without interference. She wished she could think more clearly, but even after hours she wasn't able to. Her thoughts were an explosion of chaos wrapped in emotion. She couldn't grab one without the other. It hurt. It all hurt. And she wanted more than anything to turn around and tell someone that Nott hurt her. He hurt her and she hurt. But she couldn't say that to Hagrid. She did accept his presence though. And that helped. She didn't know why it helped, but it did.

She was finishing up tending to a thestral's leg which had a nasty splinter in it from breaking his door when Hagrid asked if she was ready for lunch. She hesitated, not really wanting to go to the castle, but then saw that the giant had a basket with him.

"I'm not that hungry," she admitted, turning back towards the hoof. The knot in her stomach clenched hard at her words, as though wanting to angrily remind her of why she didn't feel hunger despite not eating since dinner last night.

"I think it's time for a break nonetheless," Hagrid continued, bending down beside her. "Come on. I won't force you to eat, but I think you need a break. I don't want to work you into magical exhaustion. Or be accused of working you like a house elf," he chuckled. "Never thought I'd be in a situation where I could work a Malfoy like a house elf."

Graces smiled despite herself and nodded. Hagrid waited for her to finish dressing the hoof and then led her away from the barn to the edge of the lake where they both sat down on a smoothed boulder. She wondered idly if Hagrid ate here often. He didn't seem to be looking for a place for them to sit, he seemed to know exactly where they would sit.

It was a beautiful place, she realized as she stared out across the water. Hogwarts' grounds were beautiful. She never really took the time to appreciate it, but now with it sprawled out in front of her like this she did.

Hagrid handed her a paper bag with what she assumed was the lunch he intended for her. It smelled divine, and despite the fact that she had no intentions of eating anything she looked inside.

"Got some Cornish pasties from the Three Broomsticks. Should still be hot. Madam Rosmerta is good at warming charms for food. I figured after all the hard work we should have a treat. You like em don't you?"

"I've never had one," Graces admitted quietly, and stopped herself from making the same comment she had made to Neville about pauper's food. She didn't want to offend Hagrid. They were, though. Her father said they were working class food for people who couldn't sit down at a table and have a real civilized meal.

"Really? Never?" Hagrid gawked, handing Graces a mug of warm tea. Graces shook her head in answer. Hagrid hummed a curious thought. "Well, I know ye said you weren' hungry, but you should at least have a bite of that. Just to try."

Graces hesitated, but between the smells coming from the bag and the fact that Hagrid had gone out of his way to get this lunch she couldn't think of a reason not to appease the man with a small bite. Gingerly she took the pastie out and tried it, pausing as the flavorful meat and potatoes flooded her mouth. It wasn't a chore to take another bite and enjoy the way the onions and swede highlighted the dish. Her cheeks burned as a soft sigh broke loose from her lips and her appetite returned to her with a vengeance.

Hagrid didn't make a comment on either, but he did have a very satisfied smile as she continued to eat. She wondered if he planned this, and then realized with a start that he had. A bite just to try.

"That was very Slytherin," she commented taking another bite and staring determinedly forward.

"Not sure what yer referrin to," Hagrid shrugged taking another bit of his own pastie.

Graces hummed a disbelieving reply, but continued on eating. "Don't you have classes to teach today?"

"They're being covered," Hagrid shrugged. "Told Dumbledore I needed to tend to some sick animals today."

"Does he know that I'm here?" Graces asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

"He knows what Professor Sprout knows."

Graces let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and reached in the bag for another pasty. Hagrid had provided her with enough to feed three people. She finished the second one in silence and was debating whether she could eat a third, when Hagrid took out another bag and handed her a cauldron cake that was far too hard to be edible, but Hagrid shyly revealed he made himself, so Graces tried to eat it out of politeness that she never dreamed she would give to a half breed, but she found herself wanting to give it all the same, as if he were pure of blood like her.

She suddenly was very aware of who was sitting next to her and how awful she had been to him in the past. She now wondered idly how she could have ever called the man sitting beside her savage. She thought about the article her and Draco had encouraged from Skeeter and suddenly was unbearably ashamed.

"Don't you hate me?" she asked quietly.

"Why would you think I hated you?" Hagrid asked. She didn't need to look up to know he was staring down at her with bewilderment.

"I've never been kind to you," Graces flushed. "I'm sure you know all the awful things I have said and done."

"I'm an adult," Hagrid reminded. "Adults don't hate children for being children."

Graces bristled slightly at being called a child, but made no comment.

"You only acted how you were taught to act. And that's not all yer fault."

Graces didn't respond, but couldn't help her thoughts turning to her father. He was not a child, and he had acted to hurt the man sitting beside her. She wondered how he would feel about Hagrid now. How he would feel after knowing what he was doing for her. He probably wouldn't be happy about her sitting with him like this, she realized. He probably wouldn't care that the man beside her was kind, he only cared that he was half giant.

"What's Azkaban like?" she asked, her thoughts now completely with her father.

Hagrid stared at her for a long moment, apparently looking to see if her question held any malice.

"You thinking of your father?"

Graces flushed and wished violently that she hadn't asked. She cleared her throat delicately. "I just wanted to know."

"It's okay to be worried about him," Hagrid said softly. "It's understandable that you would want him here with you now. Merlin knows I still wish my father could be with me when things get hard."

Graces sat silent at that, not wanting to have such an intimate discussion.

"I know you don't want to talk to anyone. But I-I would be happy to owl your mother, and have her come to—"

"No," Graces interrupted, her body going rigid at the thought. "Absolutely not."

Hagrid nodded and didn't push. Graces bit the inside of her cheek and calmed herself down. Not wanting to snap at the man that was being so kind to her. There was a long pregnant silence that followed. She could tell Hagrid was thinking about the night before and she wished she could yank those memories out of his head.

_You could._

She shook that thought away. She wouldn't.

"I-I wasn't raped." Hagrid looked down at her and she put down the teacup she was holding, embarrassed at how she trembled. "I don't want you to think I was. I really wasn't," she stressed.

"But something happened," Hagrid concluded, his gentle eyes looking down at her.

Graces' pressed her lips together and looked away. Hagrid sighed and rubbed his face tiredly.

"I'm glad that didn't happen, but I don' feel much better. I know someone hurt you yesterday. An' knowing that person isn't being punished worries me, Graces. I don't want em to do it again."

"I wish you trusted us to take care of you," he whispered sadly. "We're supposed to take care of you."

Graces sat there for a long time before Hagrid stood, uncomfortable with the tense silence, and led her back to the barn to work some more. They worked through dinner, so Hagrid invited her into his hut to eat the remaining pasties. It was a more silent meal than before, though Hagrid tried to make polite conversation. She just couldn't really participate, her thoughts were too far away.

"Suppose I better take ya back now," Hagrid sighed, when the pasties were gone and Graces declined a game.

The blonde nodded and stood from the table so that Hagrid could walk her back to the castle. It wasn't that late and students were still walking about the halls. Graces tried to tell herself that she wasn't uncomfortable being seen with the groundskeeper, but despite that thought she was. And suddenly she was very ashamed of herself.

"I think you can make it to the dungeons yourself," Hagrid muttered gruffly, looking at a group of 4th year Slytherins who kept looking back at them warily.

Graces nodded and adjusted her bag on her shoulder.

"Professor Hagrid," she began hesitantly, unsure if she really wanted to say anything. "You have taken care of me," she whispered, her eyes meeting his solemnly. "Truly, you have."

And with that she left, but not to the Slytherin dorms like she knew she was supposed to. She went to find the only person she wanted to pour her heart out to.


	86. Chapter 86

Every second felt like eternity as Neville paced around the floor of his and Graces' room. He couldn't hold onto a single thought, nothing seemed to make sense. Everything was wrong. Truly wrong and he didn't know how or why. He had assumed Graces didn't meet with him last night because she had changed her mind about them talking. About them in general, but now that didn't seem right. Not after looking at her today. Something was wrong, and a pulse that had ignited in his veins—that he had mistook last night for helplessness and despair that Graces changed her mind—now resounded and all it did was beat into his very soul that something was wrong.

He ran his fingers once again through his hair. It was now as messy and untamed as Harry's. He loosened his tie once again before just yanking it off completely in frustration. He wanted to owl her. Find her. Anything but this damn waiting in the vain hope she would come.

_She's going to come._

He stood in the middle of the floor and closed his eyes, hating that calm voice in his head. How did it know that? Nothing showed that to be true, and yet it was so confident. He wasn't confident. He was a mess of doubt and fear. Something was wrong. It kept repeating again and again inside him, resounding with every beat of his heart. He felt as though he were dragging a fork on his teeth and nails were dragging on a chalkboard.

He wound his tie around his hand until it was so taut he couldn't even feel his fingers. He focused on the numbness and calmed himself down just in time for the door to open.

He couldn't move. He remained in the middle of the room as she leaned against the door, every instinct in his body demanding him to be still.

"Are you still very mad?" she whispered, her voice laced with unshed tears.

"No," Neville murmured hollowly, taking in the gray, haunted eyes and short hair. "Not at all."

Graces nodded and bit her lip to the point where Neville could see the first pricks of blood. He tried to think of something to say, he had a million questions only moments ago and now his head was empty.

Graces fidgeted with the ring on her left finger.

"A impotency curse," she smirked, trying to feign humor but doing a poor job considering how her voice cracked as she spoke. "I'll admit I never saw that coming."

Neville felt like the floor swallowed him up and the world around him now ceased to exist. His heart hammered in his ears and his mind tried to put together what Graces had just said. There's only one way she would know what the ring did. _Two,_ a new voice corrected. _There are two._ Neville shook his head though, against that hope. This was Graces, there was only one. He turned away from her and pinched the bridge of his nose and willed himself not to cry.

"Please, say something."

"Tell me you were mad," Neville said hopefully. "You were mad and-and in your anger you did something stupid. Something stupid that we will move past." Even as he said it he knew the words to not be true. His instincts told him what the real answer was. And he remembered why she had that ring to begin with.

"That's what you would prefer?" Graces asked, her voice high with agony.

"Of course it is," Neville said desperately. "How could you ask me that? How could you think I would want the alternative. That I could live with the knowledge that someone hurt you like that?" he choked. Striding forward and taking her hand as she tried to turn away to hide the tears told him the answer. He moved closer and pressed his forehead to hers so that their tears were mixing together on her cheek. He prayed to the fates it was the first, promising he wouldn't even be mad. He would forgive and move on if only they granted him this. Graces tried to turn away, but he held her closer. Willing the answer out from her lips.

He knew the answer, but still he hoped. Somewhere in the abyss of pain that was growing within him there was a tiny flicker of that hope. He promised her aloud that it was all going to be okay, that he loved her, that nothing could change that. They were stronger, together, they were stronger and he swore that on everything he did believe in.

Finally, after enough tears had been shed to make both of their throats sore the answer finally came. "I wasn't unfaithful."

He held her closer so that she was under his chin pressed so tight against him she wouldn't be able to see his face. She cried into his chest and swore the ring stayed on, that it didn't happen, but Neville knew there were other ways to hurt a girl. He had a feeling she had suffered and been violated all the same. He wanted to know it all. Every detail. How he had hurt her, where he had touched her. He didn't need to hear her say who, he knew who. And he silently vowed vengeance on Theodore Nott.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"There has to be some way," Neville repeated, pacing as he had been for the past hour. Trying to figure out a way that they could turn Nott in to the aurors and see him sentenced to Azkaban. She was trying to be patient, trying to let Neville vent out his frustrations and reach the conclusion she had long ago. Nothing could be done, she just had to be more alert. But he wasn't reaching that conclusion and her patience was already worn thin.

"My brother would be the one to suffer," Graces reminded again tiredly. "The Dark Lord would not care. Nott is useful to him. As of now Draco and I—" She swallowed another lump of emotion. "—are dispensable."

"He needs to be brought to justice."

Graces looked up at Neville and felt a strong pity for the boy standing in front of her. He just couldn't accept that bad things happened and there could be no justice for them. "Bringing him to justice will endanger my family."

"You can't know that!" Neville snarled.

"There's a chance," Graces argued calmly, holding her head higher. "And I will not risk Draco's life. I won't."

Neville made a noise of frustration and turned away so she wouldn't see the anger flash in his eyes. Graces chewed the inside of her lip and watched him. He was trying so hard not to show her his rage, but it hummed all around him. She knew it wasn't directed at her, but it didn't keep him from every so often lashing out. The tears were for the most part shed, and what she was left with was this. Neville turned distant and angry, barely meeting her eyes and wanting more details than she was willing to give.

"You won't tell me what happened and you won't go tell anyone that has any power to do anything." He glared at her, for a moment before whipping his head away. "What do you expect me to be able to do, Graces?"

"I don't want you to do anything," she repeated tightly. "Please, Neville, please come sit with me."

" _Nothing_. You want _nothing_ to be done?" He spat out the word like poison on his tongue.

"Neville, please—"

"No. I can't accept that. He doesn't get to get away with what he's done to you! He—"

"And what if he is arrested and then tells about Draco's mark? What then? Because believe me when I tell you, Neville, he would do it."

Neville shook his head and began pacing again. "He's going to do this again," he muttered. "He will never stop. You will never be safe."

"We will all be more cautious. I won't be alone again. I made a mistake in being in that barn by myself. I won't make that mistake again."

Neville stopped his pacing and closed his eyes as he asked yet again what happened in the barn.

"I'm not going to do this again. I told you all you needed to know. He surprised me, he attacked me, he tried to assault me and when he couldn't he choked me."

"I need to know more, Graces."

"Why? Why on earth do you _need to know_?"

"I just do."

"Why?"

"I JUST DO!" Neville snapped, the anger coming to the surface now.

Graces closed her eyes. "No. You don't," she breathed. " And I refuse to sit here and recount one of the worst nights of my life. There is nothing to be done and—"

"Then don't tell me. Show me." She stared at him. "Get a pensieve and put the memory in it for me to view."

"Are you mad?" she whispered.

Neville looked down at her, his face almost beyond her recognition. She didn't know the boy standing in front of her, but it was not her sweet Neville. "I am going mad, Graces," he whispered, his voice like iron. "I have to know. I have to."

"Why?" she asked tightly. "I told you. He hurt me and he touched me. What more is there to know?"

"There's plenty! I want to know how he touched you, where he touched you, what he said to you, how you fought, how he fought. Everything. I want to know every single detail."

"You know where," Graces argued, her cheeks flushing with humiliation that she reminded herself she didn't really need to feel. "I don't understand what the details will do other than bring more pain and suffering."

"I need this. I can't tell you why, Graces. But I do. I need this."

"Well, I need you," Graces countered, her voice breaking. "I need you, Neville. Please. Don't ask me this. Hold me. Take me to bed and bundle us in the sheets and hold me close so I can break in the comfort of your arms and warmth." She wiped away the tears from her eyes. "And then put me back together again. Be here for me. I feel so helpless, so powerless. Let me have you to lean on. I'm so scared. I-I'm so scared. Please. Please, hold me." She could see the crack in his resistance and stood, moving closer to take his hand. "We always thought of something before, and we shall think of something again. But I can't think right now, Neville. I'm so tired and so riddled with emotions I can't even name. You said you would take away my pain if I took yours and I know you've taken more than your fair share, but I need you to once again take mine. Please."

Neville for a moment looked like he would gather her in his arms again, like he did when he first found out, but he stopped himself. His face hardening.

"I can't." He paused and slowly slipped his hand from hers. "Please, get a pensieve."

sssssssssssssssssssssss

It had been hours since Graces had wrapped that last damned tendril of memory around the wood of her wand before dropping it into her father's pensieve. And still Neville had not emerged from their bedroom. She had refused to stay in the room while Neville viewed the scenes, though her refusal wasn't necessary. She realized the moment she lashed out that she would not stay for this, Neville had not wanted her to anyway. He had planned for her to leave. She didn't know or understand why that angered her so, but it did. All of this angered her.

She shouldn't have had to do this. Neville should have never forced this on her. What right did he have to demand such a thing? She needed him and he was too interested in his own wants and needs. She sat on the couch shivering and holding herself tight.

She hated him in that moment. Those minutes. Those hours, as she sat there alone forced to think about all that had happened to her. He was supposed to be with her, she went here because she needed him and he— he wasn't here. Graces closed her eyes and tried to make sense of what was happening. But she couldn't make sense of anything at all, not with so many emotions turning inside her. It was too many storms to weather and she could not make it through them alone.

She stood, no longer able to bear the silence. He had to have finished with the memories by now. She had only given him the barn, nothing more. She was sure that the ordeal had not been this long. There was no way she had suffered through hours. It had felt like eternity at the time, but it just couldn't have been. She forced herself to open the door, aware that she was far too vulnerable and not caring. She could be this with Neville, she could. It had been a long time since she had felt the need to hide herself from him. She didn't have to. It was okay that she needed him. It had to be. She looked over at the pensieve, and just as she thought there was no viewing.

Instead Neville sat there in the desk looking off at nothing at all. He didn't even acknowledge her presence as she walked further in the room waiting for him to say something. He just continued looking forward, his fist clenched in front of his mouth as he stayed with whatever thoughts he was having.

"Say something," she whispered, unable to bare the silence any longer.

He slowly closed his eyes, taking a deep breathe through his nose as his jaw twitched slightly. She waited.

"What should I say?" he asked, with a chill that sunk into her very bones.

Graces shrugged. "Something. Anything." Neville remained silent. "At least look at me," she cried.

Neville's eyes tightened as though that were his answer. "Why didn't you see him?"

"What?"

"He was right there. He was almost right beside you and you didn't see him. How could you not have seen him?"

Graces didn't answer.

"Did you know—" Neville began with a calm that sounded like a storm, "—that your memories are riddled with holes?" A tear welled up in his eye that refused to fall. "That I could see something one moment, and then it would be gone. Absent. Wrong," he frowned. "I would move about and it wasn't correct. I was walking through things I shouldn't have been walking through. Not seeing things I should have been able to see."

"At first, I thought the memory altered. I thought you were hiding the real trauma. And then I realized, that you truly didn't know those things to be amiss." Neville seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek as he gathered himself to continue. "And then when when he struck you I remembered October. I remembered your face so swollen and one eye had been swollen practically shut." He stared at her then. His face full of knowledge. "You're blind in that eye. Aren't you? It explains so much. Why you bump into things all the time, why I can so easily surprise you when I come up on that side." Neville paused. "Why you're struggling in classes. Why didn't you tell me? How could you not tell me?"

"I didn't even tell, Draco," Graces snarled. "I told no one."

"I'm your boyfriend!"

"And Draco's my brother."

"You sleep with me."

"And I shared a womb with him."

"You should have told me."

"In what world do you think you carry more weight than Draco?" Graces asked spitefully.

Neville's lip curled, and he turned away. Graces waited for him to slam his fists into the wall, but long ragged breaths were the only sounds that came.

"It's my eye, Neville. My eye," she repeated breathlessly, as she shook from her toes to her head. "And you will never understand what it's like for me. Never. I just want to be whole. If I let them take my eye I would never be whole again. Can you understand that? Never. There will always be something missing. Something... taken from me. I would never be the same again. I just want to be whole."

"You're not whole, though. That eye was taken whether you get a new one or not. Its sight is gone."

"Missing sight is different than missing body parts," she countered, swallowing the pain those words brought.

"You would be better off with a new eye. One that works."

"Is this what you want to talk about?" Graces demanded, hurt despite herself. "I _**need**_ you and this is the thing you want to talk about."

"No. This is the tip of the iceberg of all the things I want to talk about."

He turned to her. "I know what you sound like when you are tortured. I know what you sound like when you are pleading and begging for mercy. I have a symphony of your anguish resounding in my head. Murals of your grief stricken face."

"When you screamed when he—he cruciated you," Neville bit out, his face scrunching together and she could see the shudder pass through him. She wondered briefly if he was thinking about his mother. Or maybe he was remembering the pain of it himself at the hands of her father. "I felt it in my bones. And when that-that monster's hand went up your skirt—" Neville couldn't seem to find words.

Heat flushed Graces' skin and she looked away.

"I knew something was wrong last night. I knew it. Somewhere deep down in me I could feel it. It was the exact same feeling I had in October when you didn't meet me. The exact same feeling. And I did _nothing_." The last word resounded with all the self loathing he must have been feeling. "I did nothing because I was too absorbed in being angry with you for not showing. Too busy feeling sorry for myself that you may have changed your mind."

"I wanted to look for you," he murmured, his eyes dragging up to meet hers. "I didn't because I was too proud. I should have looked for you. If I would have—"

"This isn't your fault," she whispered. "It's not, if blame is to be laid with anyone it should be with me." Neville opened his mouth to protest, but she continued forward. "I was the one that chose to not get my eye fixed. I put my wand down and away from me. I went alone into the barn, not thinking about—"

She stopped mid sentence as Neville's hands gripped her arms tight enough to hurt. "Don't you dare think like that."

"Then you can't either," Graces sniffed, meeting Neville's eyes with the same resignation. Neville flickered a look away, and released her. Taking a few steps back and leaning against the wall to look at the floor.

"Neville," she whispered. "This isn't you." Neville tensed and she moved forward, bringing her hand to his face and forcing him to look at her. "Please, come back to me."

She stared into those unfamiliar hard eyes, imploring the man she knew and loved to meet her. To regain whatever possession he was under and be there for her. But he didn't come forth. The eyes she was looking into held none of Neville's warmth and compassion. He lifted his hand and trailed his fingers gently around her jaw, before slowly down to her neck where those cold eyes glared at the unmarked skin.

"Neville?" she breathed, stirring the boy away from his thoughts.

"I'm going to make you some tea," he said gently, sitting up and removing her hand from his face, kissing her knuckles gently as though trying to make up for the sting of being pushed away. "I think you should take some dreamless sleep. You need rest."

"I don't want dreamless sleep," Graces argued, unable to hide the emotion in her voice.

"Maybe just a sip then." Neville gave her a small smile that didn't meet his eyes. "Just to help you drift off." Graces was going to argue, but then his mouth was on hers. Kissing her softly as he finally folded her into his arms. "Let me try to take care of you, Graces."

She nodded her head and allowed Neville to lay out a nightgown for her, before disappearing into the other room to make the tea. She felt in a fog as she undressed and climbed into their bed. She could hear Neville moving around in the kitchen and did her best to try and relax. It all felt so strange.

_He's being strange._

She wondered at that for a few moments, before Neville entered with tea and vial in hand. She accepted the tea with a small nod and leaned against the pillows as Neville placed the potion on her night stand, with a meaningful look. She made no comment, but relaxed slightly as he climbed into the covers with her, folding her so that her back laid against him. She sipped her tea plaintively as he nuzzled his nose in her hair, breathing her in. There was so many things unspoken between them, but she wasn't sure how to address it all. Especially, when Neville seemed determined not to.

"I love you," he whispered, his breath tickling her neck as he bent his head down against her.

She was glad that he was behind her in that moment, because she didn't know what her face would show. She felt a mixture of emotions at the words. Discomfort still being the strongest. She took another sip of tea as her thoughts wandered to that moment in the barn when she imagined his face and her hands trembled despite herself.

Neville gently took the cup away at the sound of the clinking and placed it on the night stand, before quietly handing her the dreamless sleep.

She turned then in his arms, so she could meet his eyes.

"Just a small amount then," he murmured, reading her thoughts and gently kissing her forehead. "Just to help you rest."

She wanted to refuse, but she found herself opening the vial and bringing to potion to her lips. She didn't even take half, just enough to bring her to sleep and earn herself another soft kiss. Neville shifted so she could lie down, but didn't undress himself for sleep.

She frowned. "You're not going to sleep?" she asked, immediately breaking out in a yawn that was very unbecoming for a Malfoy let alone a lady.

"No," Neville whispered calmly, smiling faintly as he moved a strand of hair away from her face. "I like the short hair," he said quietly. "It suits you."

"You don't think it makes me look like Draco?" she asked, forcing her eyes to stay open.

A small smirk. "No."

"Graham said it made me look like Draco," Graces mumbled sleepily, her eyes closing despite herself.

"Graham's an arse."

Graces made some noise of agreement before the potion pulled her under. When she woke later the room was black and there were no signs of Neville. She sat up from where she was laying, slowly making her way through the fog of her sleep. Something had woken her. Something unnamed. Her stomach turned and she took a sip of water from her nightstand to calm herself. She was about to call out to Neville, thinking he must be residing in the living room, when she saw the envelope by her abandoned tea.

She took the letter knowing even before her fingers tore the thin paper that it was nothing good.

_Graces,_

_There are so many things I want to tell to you. The first and most important being that I love you. I realize that you don't believe in or accept my love, and I understand. It doesn't matter, I suppose, because love was never going to be enough. And I was a fool to think so. You have always said my words were pretty, and now I truly see what you mean by it. Words are pretty, comforting, pleasing, but they don't do anything more than appease. My love has never done anything for you. It certainly has not kept you from harm. I know what you wanted last night. You wanted me to hold you as you broke. But how many times can I let you break and put you back together after you've been shattered? What more can you bear before some piece of you—of the woman I love—will no longer be able to be put back? I could not hold you last night as you broke, because I can no longer bear to be helpless in your suffering. Holding you isn't keeping you safe. My arms around you don't protect you._

_And I can't live like this anymore. I won't live like this anymore._

_So long as Theodore Nott is alive you will never be safe. He will plot and plan to hurt you. I could see it in his eyes as I watched your memory. He will never give up, Graces. I can't let Nott get away with this. I won't let him get away with this. What kind of man would I be if I allowed him to? Not the man that deserves you._

_I hope you understand why I am doing this. I want so much for you Graces. I have this idea of what I want your life to be. I wish I could tell you what that is, but that would take hours I don't have. I just don't want you to suffer anymore. Please don't think this is a sacrifice for me. I want to do this. For my own selfish reasons I want to do this. I don't speak often of my mother, and even now I don't want to speak of her, but looking at her I see first hand what someone breaking again and again can do. There's nothing to be done for her. There's plenty to be done for you._

_You asked me why I needed to know every detail. This is why. I had an idea of what I wanted to do and I wanted every detail of the horror he put you through, so that when I did it I would have the satisfaction of knowing what I was doing was right. Hearing your screams as he held you under his wand was enough._

_It's probably morning by now, and the school is buzzing with the news of the events that unfolded last night. I hope you feel a comfort, and not any sense of guilt or pain. Please be happy, Graces. It's all I want for you. Don't mourn the loss of me by your side. This is better and in the end it's what I wanted. I always wanted to give you a happy life._

_I love you._

_Yours always,_

_Neville_

There was a roaring so loud in her mind that she couldn't hear her own thoughts. She read the letter two more times, her chest tightening with each sentence. This couldn't be real. Neville couldn't mean what she thought he meant. Her mind was a blizzard of thoughts, that she couldn't process. One thought formed and immediately another pushed it away. Until her final answer came forward to all of them.

No.

Suddenly it all crystallized and she knew what she needed to do. It wasn't dawn, there was still a chance Neville had not gotten to Nott yet. She whirled about the room yanking down from the closet a wool coat that was too formal with the quidditch boots she was throwing on her feet, she didn't care. Just like she didn't care that under the coat she wore only a nightgown and her hair and face were a mess with sleep and tears. All she knew was she needed to find Neville and stop him before it was too late. If it wasn't too late already. The last thing she did was remember the vial of potion she brewed before departing into the night.


	87. Chapter 87

He felt cold, like frost running through his veins that shot to his heart. He trembled from it, his body violently resisting what his mind had already decided to do. He took another deep breath and checked the map. Still no sign of Nott, but he knew the boy would appear soon.

He wished things were different, that his life was different. He wished he could have told Harry why he needed the map and cloak. Maybe if he had told him, maybe he wouldn't have to do this. Neville pushed away such an easy fantasy. He couldn't have told Harry the truth without revealing Graces and Draco.

And in the end that was more important, keeping Graces safe. So he had lied and told Harry he would tell him everything in the morning. Harry had hesitated, but given him both items. Neville knew it was a gesture of good faith and trust, and hated that he was betraying that.

He fingered the dagger he had taken from Graces' drawer, a precaution, in case things didn't go as planned. It wasn't the same one she had used on him all those months ago, this one was more elaborate. The blade shined like starlight, the hilt was golden and the design was so intricate it seemed more to be a work of art than a tool. Neville snorted at the fact that Graces had it tossed in her drawer like it was nothing. Maybe in her world it was.

He checked the map again. It didn't show a great deal of the forbidden forest, but he would be able to catch Nott before he got onto the grounds. It would be simple, quick and - though the other boy didn't deserve it - painless. Neville didn't plan on enjoying the action of taking another person's life, but it needed to be done. He would stay under the cloak and then when Nott was in view take it off and quickly cast the killing curse. Nott would hopefully not even be able to process what was happening to him.

It was the aftermath that he was more concerned about. He knew that he would need to come forth as Nott's murderer, not just because he didn't think he could live with the secret, but also so that no one could accuse Graces or Draco. There had to be someone to take that fall, and he would not place it on someone innocent of the crime. He tried not to think about his Gran and Uncle Algie. About the devastation this would bring to them.

Before his mind could truly begin to wander off into those thoughts, he saw Nott appear on the map and moved quickly so as to still catch him in the forest. Luckily, Neville wasn't too far away from him. He had been careful to choose a location that was near to the greenhouse, where he had once seen Nott coming from the woods. It seemed the boy didn't deviate much from his routines.

Neville waited patiently, knowing he was too loud to actually go any further and not be noticed, so he stood waiting for Nott to pass him before he attacked. Each step felt like an eternity, as Nott moved forward and Neville did his best to still his heart. He could feel the spell on his tongue and mouthed the words again and again. Finally Nott passed him.

Neville's cast off Harry's cloak and with perfect enunciation—though his hand trembled—bellowed "Avada Kedavra."

Nothing came forth from his wand. Not a wisp of green or a puff of light. Nothing at all happened. The spell that he had so relied on to ensure that this would be quick and over, didn't work for him. He meant it, though. He meant it. Neville stared at his wand in horror, as though it were somehow its fault and not his own will that had caused such a thing.

Neville's mind put away his thoughts regarding the spell, and he held very still as Nott turned, slower, than he should have for a man that had just survived an assassination attempt and stared at him. Neville couldn't move, could barely breathe as the Nott continued to look at him. The tension between them was so tangible, that Neville felt as though he were choking on it.

"Expelliarmus," Nott cast, barely flicking his wand and sending Neville's soaring overhead.

Neville watched it land, aware of the amount of trouble he was in.

"Longbottom," Nott grinned, casually stepping forward as Neville took a step back. "What a pleasant surprise."

His heartbeat was so loud it was now in his ear.

"What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" Nott tutted. "Naughty, naughty. If you're caught you're sure to lose your house some valuable points."

Neville knew he was gloating, teasing, that he was now a feast for a lion. He kept backing away, even as Nott danced around him, delighting in his panic.

"You feeling okay, Longbottom? You look a bit... peaky."

He couldn't go for the dagger now, not with Nott being so careful to maintain a distance. Not with his eyes so carefully watching him. If he took out the dagger now he would lose it, just as he had lost his wand.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Neville's eyes snapped back to Nott's. And he did his best not to show the fear that was raging through him.

"You're no good at this, Longbottom, playing the strong, defiant, silent type. It doesn't suit you. So, tell me, why are you here? Why have you tried and failed miserably at offing me?"

"You know why," Neville whispered, his rage coating each word carefully. At least he didn't sound terrified.

Nott raised an eyebrow. "You have got to be kidding me," he laughed, looking up briefly at the forest's canopy. "You still fawning over her?"

"Merlin, Longbottom, you are pathetic."

"Not so pathetic that I have to force myself on a woman."

"Is that what she told you happened?"

"Showed. Well, she showed me how you tried." Neville corrected, he saw the faint hint of red come upon Nott's cheeks. "Oh don't worry Theodore. She's a beautiful girl, I'm sure lots of men would become... intimidated. Not me, I've never had that little problem, but some."

Nott made some sound that closely resembled a roar and a snarl and Neville fell back from whatever blow had struck him. He rubbed his chest, unsure of what had hit him, but positive it had not merely been a fist.

"Shut up," Nott hissed, looming over him with his wand out.

Neville tried to force a laugh, but it came out more so as a cough. It was a tricky game, but he needed Nott closer. Closer and not paying attention as he should be. If he could get him to lose himself, to become sloppy, to dare to be in reaching distance, then Neville would have a chance. One good shot with the dagger, at this point that was all he could pray for.

"A shame really," Neville continued, ignoring the wand between his eyes. "She's wonderful. Everything you imagine and more. And she tastes," he made some noise of approval. "She tastes like heaven on earth."

"You're lying."

"Cause I'm totally the type to lie about my conquests," Neville grinned. "She makes the most glorious noises too, small gasps with each movement as though she's surprised each time at how good it feels. It drives you wild. Half the time I have to block it out just so I can keep going."

Nott's face drained and he stood there staring at him.

"For all that you tried, you never will have had her the way I have. Freely. She would never want you the way she wanted me."

"You think she wanted you?" Nott laughed. "Let me tell you something about Graces, Longbottom. The only people she cares about are the ones that share her blood. That's it. You're on a fool's errand to win her heart, because all her love and affection goes to Draco. She never wanted you. She wanted something from you."

"I don't know what game she's been playing with you, but mark my words you played straight into it. She lead you on, Longbottom? Make you think she had feelings for you? Then come to you crying about how scared she was of me? Never saying what she wanted, but letting you read between the lines?"

"She did no such thing," Neville seethed.

"Right," Nott nodded, a cruel smile on his lips. "See, she wouldn't dare tell Draco. She loves Draco. Can't risk his life in her revenge plots. And gods above and below know the little princess won't get her own hands dirty. Better to let others do the dirty work."

Neville glared.

"She told you for a reason, Longbottom. You're expendable."

He pointed his wand and Neville already knew what curse was on his lips, he tried to think, tried to remember something he could use. He felt death looming near and was at least thankful he didn't feel any desperation to beg. But Nott stopped, turning around at the sound of Graces' voice echoing throughout the woods, Graces' voice screaming Neville's name again and again. Neville didn't wait. He yanked the dagger he had placed in his belt out and jumped forward, driving it straight into Nott's stomach while at the same time yanking Nott's wand out of his hand.

And he didn't know why it crushed something in him, why Nott's blood spilling out onto his hand killed some piece of him, but it did. Despite what this boy had done. The danger he was. Something in Neville broke as he plunged that dagger into his belly and watched those cold eyes widen with realization.

Nott stumbled back against a tree and Neville moved to stand- ignoring the way his stomach turned and his knees felt weak. Graces ran into the clearing a moment later, her hair wild and cheeks flushed. She looked at him for a moment and then at Nott before she ran to the boy beside the tree, her hands pressing his away from his gut.

"Leave it!" she snapped, stopping Nott from taking the dagger out of his torso. "You'll bleed out faster."

Nott didn't seem to care or even realize that the blonde bending over him was the only one around that was going to help him. He pushed her away, whispering an endless amount of threats. Graces ignored him and moved to take her wand out, to heal him, but Neville ripped her away. He placed his body protectively between her and Nott bleeding out on the forest floor.

She stared up at him, her bloody hands braced on his arms. He had never seen her gray eyes so wide, her lips so devoid of color.

"Neville," she whispered. "It's not too late. Please."

"You're so fucking dead, Malfoy!" Nott grunted, his nostrils flaring with rage. "You, Draco, Thomas, even Octavian. You're all dead."

"You still don't get it do you?" Neville asked hollowly. "You're not walking away from this, Nott."

"Neville, please."

"You're not going to harm her, her brother, or anyone for that matter ever again, because you will not live through this."

Graces made a little hiccup of a cry and Neville turned to her. She was covering her mouth and looking between the two of them, her eyes glistening tears.

"Please, Neville. Please don't do this."

"It's done," Neville swallowed.

"No it's not!" Graces wailed, her hand pulling at the hair on her head as though she could rip an idea out of it. "It can't be," she whispered.

Neville didn't say a word as Graces gnawed on her lower lip, her eyes searching for an answer he knew not to be there. It was done.

"We could bind him," she said desperately. "We could bind his magic. There are spells for that. Or-or make him swear an unbreakable vow o—-"

"No."

She stood there in the icy wind staring at him the tears brimming over her eyes. "He will die, Neville. He will die and-and you would have killed him."

"I believe that's the point."

"No!" She shook her head. "This isn't you. You're not a killer you're—"

"I'm sorry weren't you just a few days ago trying to convince me to be a Death Eater?"

"And I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. Because if you would have done it, if you would have made that choice all that you are would have changed. Everything about you would be gone. You are not this person. You're not and I should have never even thought to ask. I want you. I need you and if you do this you will never be you again. You will forever be altered. Please, Neville, please come back to me. We can make this right. You and me," she whispered, her forehead ice cold against his. "Come back to me."

"You won't be safe, Graces, you—"

"I don't need your protection, Neville." Graces made some strangled sound from her throat. "I need you."

Neville looked away.

"You once joked that I would be the death of you. If you do this, Neville, I really will be. I can't live with that. I can't. I can't go on knowing that I wrecked this beautiful soul. That I took away something good and pure in the world."

"Graces—"

"Let me fix this. For me. For you. For us. Let there be an us."

"We were on borrowed time anyways."

"Neville."

Neville broke at the plea, at her tears and turned away sobbing into his hand. He wanted her, he was always going to want her. She was the center of his world, of his sanity. He had this choice of protecting her or being with her. He had made the choice, protecting her was better than just feeling her skin. Ensuring her life was more important than ensuring his own. And he had made that choice knowing that if her life was taken he would rather die than go on without her.

Azkaban was better than living free and watching the shell of the woman he loved go on. It was better to be imprisoned than see Graces become his mother. Or see her dead. He had come out here holding tight to the image of her safe and warm in a bed of their making. That was supposed to be his last memory of her. Not this.

"This wasn't how I wanted you to see me last. This wasn't supposed to be your last memory of me. This wasn't supposed to be my last memory of you," he choked, despising himself for not being able to hold onto his emotions.

"Neville."

He shrugged off her touch. "It's done, Graces. Done. Leave."

"No, it—"

"Do I need to slice his throat in front of you?" Neville demanded angrily, whirling around and causing Graces to take two steps back. "Will that be enough to show you that this is over? Do you need to see a corpse?"

He took a step towards Nott, but Graces grabbed his arm and shook her head. Her lips tightly pursed to keep in her own sobs.

"Then leave," Neville demanded, turning his back on her. Unwilling to see how she looked at him now.

He could hear her footsteps retreating and then turned as he heard Nott cry out. Graces was still bent over him, whispering something savage in his ear as she held the dagger firmly in her hands. For one terrifying moment he thought she was going to finish the job.

"The dagger is mine. If he had been found with it in his gut suspicions would have turned to me."

"I didn't think of that," Neville realized.

She nodded, as though it were obvious he wouldn't think of such things. "Don't you dare get caught with this body, Neville Longbottom. Do you hear me? Don't be here when it's found and don't say a damn word either. Not one damn fucking word. Understood?"

He looked in those gray eyes and wondered what she could be hoping for.

"You can't save me from this."

Neville made an undignified noise as she ran forward and pulled him down to her, kissing him hard on the mouth. It would have been a perfect kiss, like in films, if he couldn't smell and taste Nott's blood on her lips. "Not one damn word, Neville. Promise me. If it be the last thing you ever do for me promise me that you will not get caught with the body and you will not say a word."

He brushed the hair from her face and stared at those eyes he had come to love so much. And suddenly he was overwhelmed with the realization that he would never see her again. That the moment she went past those trees, he would never see her. Never hold her. Never kiss her. This was to be his last moments with her. His last moments with her was this. And that was somehow worse than not seeing her at all.

"I promise. Now go."

Her mouth twisted, but thankfully, for once in her life, she obeyed. Every step she took away from him felt like physical pain. It was the worst sort of agony and all he wanted was an escape from it.

"Graces," Neville called out as she just passed a stretch of trees, just before she would be too far gone that he would not see the details of her face. "Do you believe me now?"

She stood there in the night air for a long while and Neville had no doubt she knew what he was asking. "Not one damn word Neville Longbottom."

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Tonks ran her hand absently over her protruding belly as her thoughts went again to last night. She should have told someone. Her training said that she was to tell someone. Ignoring that, ignoring the rules like this was foolish. It was wrong. If she had told someone they would have sent an Auror better equipped at helping Graces here. An Auror that would know the things to say, and how to lead an investigation like this. She had failed.

She wondered if she had allowed Graces to push her away because of her last name. She wondered if it was more the threats she had delivered, than the healer's poisoned logic that had made her back off. Malfoy was still a name that spoke of command. She had seen many high officials bend at the command of that name. Had she bent because of the name as well? Had Graces' status played into this?

It may have. It may have played into it more than Tonks had realized. It sure made her take the threat seriously. And she would be lying if she hadn't also thought of what the blonde could do to her career. Tonks closed her eyes and once again thought about what she wanted to do. She couldn't ignore this. She just couldn't. She had to report it. And if that meant she had to face the consequences of reporting it late, so be it. She couldn't allow this to happen under everyone's nose. She refused to be that Auror.

"It was Theodore Nott."

Tonks whirled around at Graces' voice. Graces stood there in her oddly formal winter cloak and Quidditch boots. She was leaning with her back against a tree and her face was splotched from shed tears and dirt. Not just dirt, Tonks realized, her eyes focusing beyond the shadows. Blood.

"He attacked me," she choked out, her eyes closing in the anguish from the admission. "He tore my clothes off and forced me down. He tortured me. He-he touched me."

She could only imagine what saying all of this was like for a girl like Graces Malfoy. A proud and entitled girl. What admitting such a defeat was to her. She moved closer to try and give her comfort that had to be impossible to obtain and stopped as she saw the blood dripping down into a pool on the forest floor. Graces met her eyes and slowly moved her coat revealing a dagger plunged in her right side. The thin fabric of her nightgown clinging to; her coated down with rich red blood.

She ran towards her, yanking out her wand already muttering the spells she had learned in training. Easing the girl down so that she could work. Apply pressure, send for help—

"Only the righteous want justice. The damned seek revenge."

"Don't talk," Tonks ordered.

"I wanted revenge," Graces continued, barely a whisper. Tonks was unable to fully listen. There was so much blood. She knew better than to remove the dagger now. It had to stay. "I yearned for it more than I yearned for anything else. Nothing in this world mattered anymore. My every thought and breath turned to it. I wanted him to pay and pay dearly. I wanted him for the rest of his miserable life to feel as helpless and forlorn as I felt in that barn and I didn't care if I had to damn my soul for eternity to get it. It was to be mine."

She had to have hit an organ. There was no way she didn't hit an organ. Tonks tried to remember what organs would be in that area. What her odds are of survival could be. It was the right. What was on the right? What was on the right!?

"You're not listening to me," Graces hissed, her bloody hand snatching her face and turning it towards her eyes. Tonks could smell as well as taste the blood now on her face. She held still, praying if she heard her out that Graces would be still and let her help. "I brewed a potion. A justice potion using blood magic, I ensured that whatever pain and suffering I felt Nott would feel as well. For the rest of his life. A living breathing voodoo doll."

Tonk's eyes widened with realization. "You did this to yourself."

"I made a mistake," Graces whispered. "Please help me. I don't want to die."

"You're not going to die," Tonks swore, sending more sparks in the air to get other Aurors to come to her aid. Why had none arrived? What were they doing? "We're going to get you to the castle."

"Nott too. I-I left him in the woods."

"Where?"

"I'm not sure," Graces breathed, her lashes flickering from the effort to keep her eyes open.

"Stay with me, Graces," Tonks said, the edge of desperation playing in her voice. "Stay with me."

Graces eyes fluttered open for a moment, her gaze resting below Tonk's eyes. "We have the same mouth." Tonks couldn't even breathe as the girl in her arms traced her mouth with her blood soaked fingers.

"Graces, you need to stay awake." Even as she said it she could see the other girl slipping away. "Just a little longer," Tonks whispered desperately.

Graces nodded her eyes still fixated on her lips, before they rolled back and the girl became limp in her arms.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

He wasn't dead. Neville felt Nott's pulse again, and as weak as it was, it was definitely still there. He wasn't sure what was happening to him though. His breathing had been labored since the stabbing and a few times he had tried, and failed, to convince Neville to get help or let him go. Then suddenly he had screamed, as though the pain had somehow intensified and he had shivered and damned Graces with every breath until he passed out.

Neville wondered if this could be a side effect of the killing curse. Maybe it had done something. Maybe it wasn't strong enough to do something then, but now, maybe it was doing something now. He looked again at Nott's wound. There was definitely more blood coming out now, than when he first stabbed him. Neville swallowed and took another step back. It was harder than he thought it would be to watch someone die like this.

It was even hard for him to listen to Nott beg. He knew he shouldn't care, not after what he saw in the pensieve. But he did. It was awful hearing someone beg for their life. He had no delight in it. Nott was a horrible person, and he deserved death, but when he cried for help Neville forgot those things. He had almost silenced him, but stopped himself. It would be cowardly to not hear a dying man's last words. Of all the things he was now, he was not a coward.

Neville's thoughts were interrupted by a loud calling in the distance. He strained his ears and his breath caught as he heard the unmistakable sound of Hagrid shouting Nott's name and the rustle of leaves and twigs being trampled on. Unsure of what to do, but remembering his promise to Graces he threw the invisibility cloak over himself and went between some trees. Fang burst into the clearing first, followed by Hagrid and an Auror.

Neville froze. They were gathering Nott together, whispering spells that Neville was sure was meant to save him and pouring a potion between his lips. They were saving him. Both men were working to save him.

No.

"Do you think it's too late?" Hagrid asked, lifting Nott so he was cradled in his arms.

"I don't know. We need to hurry."

"I can't believe she did this," Hagrid breathed. "I-is it tied to her?"

"What?"

"If he dies will she die?" Hagrid clarified.

The other man shook his head. "I don't know. I hope not."

They began moving towards the castle at a pace that Neville had a hard time maintaining without making any noise.

"She doesn't deserve to die," Hagrid hiccuped, sniffling loud enough that Neville was able to go faster. "She can't die. She-she—"

"Professor, please get a hold of yourself. This isn't helping her."

"I can't believe she did this," Hagrid sniffed. "I-I can't."

Neville didn't know what was happening, but he knew they were talking about Graces. Did they think she did this? Was she taking the blame for his actions? He was about to call out to them, tear off the cloak and tell them it was his when Hagrid continued.

"Do you think she wanted to die?" Hagrid asked, his voice breaking. "Did she stab herself because she wanted to die? Because she didn't think she could live after what he did?"

Neville froze.

The Auror made some noise in the back of his throat and without breaking his stride called back. "What matters is she doesn't want to die now. She wants to live now, so we better hurry in case her life is tied to his."

Neville wasn't sure what was happening as he followed the two men into the castle up to the hospital wing. But he didn't get the chance to follow them in.

"What is going on in your house, Severus?" McGonagall demanded, blocking the doors to the hospital wing, so Snape couldn't follow Hagrid and the Auror in.

"Don't. Don't you dare. Did you see her stomach? Did you see those scars? Someone has been hurting that girl, Severus. And someone has been hurting her for a long time by the looks of it. So you tell me. You tell me right now; what is going on?"

"Calm yourself, Minerva. I know as much as you."

Neville had never seen his Head of House so furious. She was shaking and looked as though she were about to explode at any moment.

"Graces Malfoy, a girl under your care, a girl in your house, your goddaughter is lying in that room with her torso opened up while two healers try to stop her from dying from a wound she inflicted on herself. She stabbed herself, Severus. Because she was scared, or she wanted revenge, or she wanted to die after an attack from a boy that is also under your care and in your house. And on top of all that, there is scarring on her abdomen that says that this isn't the first time she has been hurt. You knew who her healer was, you suggested we call her. How many times have you called her, Severus? How long have you kept that girl's harm a secret from us?"

"You're being hysterical. You—"

"No, I don't think I am," McGonagall interrupted, drawing herself up to her full height which was nowhere near Snape's, but somehow seemed to be just as intimidating. "There was another reason why Graces Malfoy must have stabbed herself. She must have thought no one else would help her. She must have felt so scared and so alone that she thought she had no choice other than to use a Haitian potion and hurt herself."

"Interesting that you're so quick to blame me, Minerva. Because based on what you just said she must have also felt she couldn't go to you or the Headmaster either." The silence that filled the hall was more powerful than any spell Neville had encountered.

"Clearly," Snape drawled, turning to walk away. "I'm not the only one in this school that failed Graces Malfoy."


	88. Chapter 88

Draco massaged the back of his neck and tried to break up the knot that had formed there. He was no closer to finishing that damn cabinet than he had been at the beginning of the year. Graham disagreed, he seemed to think that progress was being made each day, but Draco wondered if he was only saying such things to keep him from having a mental breakdown.

He pulled his thoughts away from Graham. They hadn't spoken since yesterday at breakfast, and Draco had a feeling they wouldn't be speaking for a while. He had let exhaustion and emotions overtake him and said too much. Graham Montague was the last person he should have spoken so honestly too.

Sometimes he forgot why Graham was helping them. Forgot that they had paid for his services and his loyalty. Even his genuine feelings of warmth towards them came from the fact that Graces had buried his sister. Draco had thought about it a lot last night and the more he thought of it the more he began to see that even Graham's friendliness towards him was to aid in a smooth marriage to his sister. Graces was far more likely to be fond of Montague if she knew him to have been close with Draco.

And that left Draco with the realization that he was truly alone. What he had feared was already his reality. He swallowed the emotions that truth brought and dragged his feet to the Slytherin common room, hoping that he could maybe get twenty minutes of comfortable sleep before having to go to breakfast and classes. He yawned the password to his common room and halted in its doorway as Professor Snape slowly stood from the from his seat beside the fire.

"Mr. Malfoy."

His heart pounded. Never had he seen Snape look so—gentle wasn't the word—non-severe.

"Please, sit."

"What's going on?"

"Mr. Ma—Draco," Snape corrected, doing his best not to flinch at using the given name and still not seeming irritated with Draco not obeying. "Sit."

A heat began to spread across his skin, prickling at the surface and causing his breaths to shorten. He wanted to move, but it took longer to actually make the action. Slowly, Draco made it to a seat across from his professor and then forgot the instruction to sit.

"Is it my mother?" he asked tightly, thinking of all the ways the Dark Lord may punish her for his incompetence. "Is—did our Lord—"

"Your mother has not been harmed. Now, sit."

He sat, aware that he could feel and hear the very blood coursing through his veins. He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and waited.

Snape looked at him for a moment, before calmly reaching into his robes. Draco flinched, thinking an attack was to happen, but Snape pulled out a vial of potion instead, his eyes darkening as he noticed Draco's fear.

"Why would you bring me a calming draught?"

"Because I need you calm."

"Are you about to tell me something upsetting?" Draco asked.

Snape's face revealed nothing. "Mr. Malfoy, I am trying to be patient with you, but my patience does not extend far. You are clearly already upset, and yes, what I have to say will be distressing. So take the potion. Because I cannot guarantee my restraint if you behave foolishly, which I suspect you will."

Draco looked away for a moment before reaching out for the vial. Snape handed it to him and waited.

Draco looked around, his mind and heart racing.

"Draco," Snape growled. "Take the draught." His throat dried. He couldn't even swallow his own spit. "Mr. Malfoy," Snape warned.

"Is everything alright?"

Draco turned to see Graham walking from the 7th year boys room, dressed and ready for his classes. Always an early riser. His eyes met with Draco's briefly before going to Professor Snape.

"Classes are canceled for the day, Mr. Montague. Now, go back to your room or leave the common room. I have a private matter to discuss with Mr. Malfoy."

Graham didn't move. He looked again at Draco, at the vial in his hand. Draco wasn't even able to try to look somewhat composed. It was taking all of his will to not cry and demand to know what was happening.

Graham's jaw tightened, and he moved to the spot beside Draco, lounging back into the chair.

"Mr. Montague, if—"

"Let him stay," Draco begged, closing his eyes and shaking despite himself.

Snape's nostrils flared, but he said no more of Graham leaving. "Take the potion."

Draco blinked and slowly brought the vial to his lips. It took him a while to finish it, his stomach turned with nerves and he gagged twice, encouraged by a shallow nod from Graham to continue.

Snape waited a few moments, giving the potion time to enter his system before he spoke.

"You're sister was attacked the night before last."

"What? What do you mean attacked? I saw her yesterday. I—"

"Draco, let him finish." Graham's hand had moved to Draco's shoulder and despite the turmoil growing in him, Draco obeyed.

"As I was saying," Snape continued. "She was attacked. We don't know much of the details, but she was tortured and assaulted."

"Assaulted." Draco repeated.

Snape was silent and suddenly the word and the meaning made sense. Draco's stomach dropped so violently he was sick, the calming potion the only thing in his stomach suddenly spilled onto the common room floor. There was a jumble of movements and words, that Draco couldn't process or hear. He was standing trying to get to the door. To go where he wasn't sure.

"Mr. Malfoy, sit down."

No. He couldn't sit down. He had to find Graces. Had to find who had hurt her. Had to get out of this room. Had to kill whoever had hurt her. It was Nott. It had to be Nott. He had been an idiot not to watch him more closely, not to have taken him out the moment he saw he was a predator stalking Graces like prey. He was going to kill him. Peel his skin off slowly and force him to eat it. He was going to make him pay. His chest ached with the need to hurt him. To end him. He felt inhuman. He was so lost in his rage that he didn't even realize that he wasn't upright, that Graham was on top of him pinning him down and demanding he get ahold of himself.

"Get off me! Get off me!"

"Draco," Graham's body was blanketing him. Holding him so tightly he could hardly breathe. "You need to calm down. You need to listen. We don't know everything. You need to listen."

Draco choked on his tears and tried to push Graham off him, to escape the feeling of suffocation, but his efforts were all weak. He was weak. A sob escaped him and he didn't know which was worse, the fact that he was crumbling under Graham's watchful eye or Snape's. In the end he decided Snape's and hid his face in Graham's shoulder, unable to gain a hold of himself.

"Is she alive? I didn't even ask; is she alive?"

Graham looked up, before nodding. "She's alive." It didn't stop his tears and Graham sat up to kneel, supporting Draco awkwardly so he could still hide his face and cry. "She's alive," Graham repeated, pulling Draco up so they were standing. "Now, lets listen to Snape."

Draco let himself be guided to the couch, aware that Graham was allowing him to stay under his arm and holding him tightly. His eyes never leaving Snapes'. When they sat, it was Graham who handed him another calming draught. Draco hesitated.

Graham moved so he was no longer holding Draco, but nose to nose. The older boy knelt in front of where Draco sat, his hand on the back of Draco's neck painfully forcing him to meet his eyes.

"When you lose control you don't help her. Plans made in a rage fail. And failing endangers her life, your life and my life. Because I would not stand by and let you kill yourself. You haven't been stupid yet, Draco. Don't start now. Listen to Snape. Assess the situation. Make a plan. Between the two of us we will figure something out."

Draco could barely speak. He nodded and took the draught, aware of Graham's eyes on him. When the vial was empty, Graham stood, still slightly disheveled from their altercation, and gave Draco a warning glare, before sitting back down. This time he didn't repeat the action of putting his arm over Draco's shoulder. He did however, sit near enough for his side to be against Draco's.

Snape waited for a moment, clearly unimpressed with both boys' display.

"Obviously, she didn't report the assault and we don't know much of what happened because she chose not to tell anyone. We do know it happened the other night and it was in the barn. Professor Hagrid found her, but was unable to get her to tell him what occurred. She maintained that the thestrals trampled her. An Auror came to Hagrid's hut and she was unable to convince your sister to tell her the truth as well. She maintained it was the thestrals that trampled her. Your family healer was called to heal her, and she was also unsuccessful."

"Mr. Montague, I believe the Auror tried to question you yesterday regarding the attack. Before it was known to be Theodore Nott, she had suspicions it was you." Graham made a distasteful noise, but didn't say anything. "The Auror in question failed to report the incident, but was pursuing the case." You could hear the eyeroll in the professor's words. "She is under investigation now for her failure to report the incident, as well as Professor Hagrid. I doubt either will see any repercussions for their actions, however."

"Where is my sister now?" Draco blurted out, not caring for any of this information.

"I am getting to that," Snape drawled, giving Graham a pointed look as if to order him to keep Draco in line.

"Your sister, though she didn't allow the Auror to obtain her justice, sought it out herself. She brewed a potion, an old Haitian one using blood magic." Draco scowled. "The potion requires the blood of an attacker and of it's victim. It's very old, very dark and very temperamental magic. It's a justice ritual that has long been forgotten. Most of the time it's unattainable, since it requires the blood from both the victim and the attacker to be spilled from the very attack and it must be made by the victim. This potion is—" Snape paused "—a calling in many ways. It calls to magic that is more wild, and far darker than most people will ever use in their life. It judges and if it determines that the victim is deserving it will enter them, creating a bond that will tie the two people together."

"Tie them how?" Graham asked, leaning forward his mind clearly making more sense of the matter than Draco's.

"Any pain or harm that befalls Graces, for the rest of her life, Nott will have. His body will suffer in any way that hers does. His life force is now tied to hers. If your sister scrapes her knee, his knee will be scraped. If she burns her tongue, his will be burned. His body now mimics hers. And his life is now tied to hers. If Graces were to die, he would die."

"Is her life and body tied to his?" Graham asked, scowling.

"No. Any pain that Nott feels is his own. If he were to die, it would not affect Graces. If she did one thing right, it was to choose a potion that very clearly would protect her from any harm. So long as it chose to work to her benefit. If the justice ritual had sided with Nott she would be the one tied to him and she would feel everything three times as harshly."

"But it chose her."

"It did."

"How do you know?" Graham persisted.

Snape's eyes flicked to Draco, before he tersely continued. "She stabbed herself."

Before Draco could react, Graham's hand was painfully on his leg, an order to be still.

"Specifically, in her gut. We have a multitude of healers here at Hogwarts now working tirelessly to save her."

"Working to?" Draco breathed, his lips going white.

Snape took a breath, subsiding his irritation. "It's not something that can quickly be fixed. She has damaged one of her internal organs. All that was in her intestines has leaked into her body. They have stopped the bleeding, now they are working to prevent sepsis which is a very serious infection."

"How serious?" Graham asked.

Snape's dark eyes held Grahams. "Serious enough that from the moment she entered, unconscious and bleeding, sepsis was already being discussed, already trying to be prevented. Of all the things the healers feared would kill her this infection was the main one."

Graham's hand on his leg was the only thing tethering Draco to this world. He was trembling and didn't even notice that he was openly crying until the tears dripped down his chin into his folded hands.

"C-Can I—"

"When can we see her?" Graham asked, before Draco could finish asking.

" _Draco_ may see her as soon as she is stable. Until then, I think it's best he and I wait in my private chambers."

Snape stood and Draco recognized he was to follow. He wanted to see Graces now, wanted to go to the hospital wing immediately, but his legs followed Snape.

"Mr. Montague, my invitation did not extend to you."

"Regardless, I go where Draco goes."

"You don't have to," Draco whispered, feeling nothing and everything at once.

Graham's eyes shifted to Draco for a brief moment, before ignoring him and waiting for Snape to come to the realization he would not be going anywhere but with Draco. Snape muttered under his breath and turned back down the hall, his cloak billowing out behind him. Draco took a seat as soon as they entered Snape's chambers and didn't bother with polite conversation as he sat helplessly waiting for news. A hot cup of tea was pushed into his hands, but he wasn't sure who had offered it to him. He just waited.

He felt emptied, gutted as he sat there in silence waiting for news. He tried to focus on his breathing. On at least appearing somewhat collected. He knew he was in many ways failing, he could barely manage not to break down, and he wasn't sure his thoughts were even coherent, but he sat there quietly. And tried not to crawl out of his skin and think about what his life would be if Graces did not live.

_Short,_ a dark voice in his head replied. Draco's nostrils flared, and he turned away from that thought as quickly as it had come.

"What is Nott's condition?" Graham asked blandly.

"Worse than Graces. He lost more blood and his wound is bigger than hers."

"Will he live?"

"They're unsure."

"What will all this mean for them?" Graham asked, nodding his head towards Draco. "I doubt our Lord will be happy at the loss of Nott. He has lately been very useful to him."

Snape stared at Graham for a long time, his statuesque stillness putting Draco on edge. For a moment he wondered if his professor was about to attack Graham.

"I will do my best to dissuade our Lord from any rash actions towards them."

"Will you?" Graham snorted.

"Do not think that I take what is happening lightly or that I condone Nott's actions towards Miss Malfoy. As far as I'm concerned, if Nott dies he will have gotten exactly what he deserves, and I will say that to our Lord."

"It's not enough," Graham said coldly. "Right now he values Nott more than he does Graces and Draco. He is going to see this as a cost to him, a cost he will want them to pay. You need to convince him that the twins are more valuable. That _Graces_ is more valuable. That Draco is going to succeed and that what Nott did undermined one of the most important missions."

"Would you like to meet with our Lord, Mr. Montague, and tell him these things? You seem to believe you know exactly what needs to be done."

Graham was silent for a moment. "I would if I believed he would listen to me the same way he would listen to you. I'm sure you have an abundance of favors at your disposal, _Professor_. Use them."

Draco was sure Graham was about to regret his arrogance, but before Snape had the opportunity to put him in his place there was a knock at his door.

Healer Durand looked like she could collapse at any moment from exhaustion, but she moved with the same poise she always had. Draco couldn't breathe. He stood from his seat waiting on bated breath.

"She will live," the healer nodded, gesturing him to sit.

Graham stood and handed her a cup of tea, relinquishing his own seat for the woman. She nodded her thanks and took a long sip before turning back to Draco.

"Zere will be a series of potions she will take for a long while, and I want her to remain in ze hospital wing for a week, but I am expecting a full recovery."

"May I see her?" Draco asked, already taking a step forward to go to the door and stopping at the healer's stilling hand on his arm.

"She is recovering," Healer Durand promised quietly. "She will not wake for a long while. Please, Mr. Malfoy, I fink it would be best if we spoke before you see her." The healer looked around the room and then added. "Privately."

"Are you kicking me out of my own private chambers?" Snape asked, obviously disdaining the suggestion.

Healer Durand turned around to face him. "We are unable to reach Mrs. Malfoy. The firecall to her home is not working and ze wards on ze Manor prevent even ze finest Aurors from entering. An owl was sent, but it returned ze letter undelivered. Perhaps you would be able to assist us in zis, Severus. I have a feeling you are able to pass frough ze wards."

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Severus, please," the healer begged, looking at him imploringly. "She should be here. And I believe you're ze only one zat can make zat possible. Please. Graces, when she wakes, will need her mozer."

"Nofing I can do, nofing you can do, can heal what has been done. But her mozer," Durand's voice broke. "She could. You have no idea what kind of power a mozer's love holds."

Snape stood quietly for a few moments, and Draco wondered what he was thinking of. The professor made a small nod and turned to leave.

"And while you are at the manor. Perhaps you can take that time to see to other matters," Graham suggested, his voice less arrogant and more submissive.

"Perhaps," Snape sneered, leaving the room.

There was a tension that left with him and Draco felt in a way released from chains he hadn't realized held him.

"Is Nott expected to live?" Graham asked, the moment he was sure Snape was gone.

A small nod.

"Where is he?"

"I don't fink zat—"

"I employ you," Draco interrupted. "Your loyalty is to me and my family. Not to anyone else. We pay for that."

"He is at St. Mungo's. He is heavily watched and when he left he still had not woken."

Graham was silent for a few moments. "I see." His eyes went to Draco for a brief moment, before declaring he had a few things to attend to. "I'll be back as soon as I am able," he added, already halfway out the door.

Draco wanted to beg him not to leave, but at the same time he saw too much value in Graham going to Nott. He wondered if he was going to kill him. He hoped he didn't. Draco wanted to claim that vengence.

He didn't know how long he stood there watching that door, contemplating what Snape would say, what Graham would do. It wasn't until he heard the gentle clinking of Durand placing her tea cup down on the dish that he realized she was still there, watching him.

Draco sat back down.

"I want to talk to you about your sister's mental state."

He frowned. "What of it."

"I have reason to believe zat Graces is not stable."

Draco was quiet for a few moments, slowly piecing together what the healer was saying. "She's not mad."

"No, but she's not well, is she?"

"No, but that's more to do with the fact that there was a dagger in her gut."

"A dagger she put zere herself."

Draco couldn't find words.

"Zat is not somefing a well mind would do. Your sister's first instinct was to harm herself. Her very first instinct. Draco, look at me, zat is not normal. Zat is not okay. Zis is a cry for help. A cry zat was very close to not being heard."

"What are you saying? That she wanted to die?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I do know zat your sister for the past few monfs has participated in some very self-destructive behavior." Draco remained silent as the woman took out a folder and peered into it. "Some of zis behavior you were not made aware of."

She held out the folder for Draco to take. Draco froze as he realized he was holding his sister's Hogwarts medical records.

"I know about her problems at the beginning of the year," Draco protested, handing the folder back, unwilling to invade his sister's privacy this much. "The exhaustion, the nightmares, the pepperup potion abuse."

"Did you know she is blind in one eye? The attack in October left her blind in one eye. She has refused a magical one. Instead she has chosen to live wif no depf perception. She chose to keep a useless eye zat made it more difficult to live zan to accept what happened to her and get a new one."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"At first I fought it was pride—or vanity—and I wanted to give her time to adjust. To realize zat she needed ze new eye. I fought after a few weeks or monfs of living like zat, of her wand work failing and missing Quidditch, she would change her mind. She never did. She seems content to live like zis. I see it as anozer way for her to self harm."

Draco ran his hand through his hair and then quickly placed it back in his lap so no one would notice its tremble.

"She is participating in other self harming behavior as well. Did you know she was on ze potion?"

Draco opened his mouth and closed it then opened it again. "There's nothing wrong with—with sex."

"No, zere isn't. And if she were seeing a boy and happy I would not be talking to you about zis. But she's not. She's not any of zose fings. And ze fing is, I fink zat she isn't finking about her actions. I believe she is just acting, chasing anyfing to make whatever pain she is feeling go away. And I also believe zat any boy sleeping wif her right now does not have her best interests at heart. And zat in ze end will make fings even worse zan zey are."

It was all crashing down. His world was slowly just turning to ash. Each second brought only more pain.

"She—she would have told me if she was sleeping with someone. Taking the potion doesn't mean she's sexually active. Lots of girls take it so they don't have periods. She's wanted that potion for a long time and father disapproved of it. She just probably didn't want a cycle."

"Draco—"

"She would have told me! Something that important, she would have told me!"

"Like she told you about the attack? Like she told you about her eye?" Draco—" she paused searching for words. "—I want to take your sister. I fink she could do wif rest and medical attention."

"What?"

"She's not well, Draco. Let me take her to people zat can make her well."

"She's not mad," Draco whispered, more to himself. "She's not."

"Draco."

"SHE'S NOT MAD! You're not taking her. I won't let you lock her up. I won't."

"Please fink about it." Draco gave her a sideways glance. "Just fink about it." She swallowed. "And regarding her eye. I would like to begin ze procedures to replace it. Now—"

"When she wakes I will discuss it with her."

"And if she does not want to replace it?"

"I will not rip my sister's eye out of her skull without discussing it with her."

"You're not listening. She is not going to make a healfy decision. I am sorry zis falls on you. I am sorry you can't be a child. I'm sorry zat our system honors you ze way it does, forcing you to make such decisions, but it does. So unless you want to give over the title to your mozer, who is being held captive, _you_ have to make zis decision. And you need to make it fast. Your sister sh—"

"If you say one more word, you will no longer have a job!"

"If I don't say a word you may not have a sister for much longer. You may lose her by her own hand."

Draco turned and stared at the woman before him.

Healer Durand shook her head. "If I don't say zis I'm not doing my job."

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

She knew to be still as she sat there in front of the door waiting for Snape to be finished with his conversation with the Dark Lord. She had no idea of what was happening, but she knew it had to do with her children, and she knew that Snape was in there now imploring the Dark Lord to allow her to go to them. Still, poise was always important. It was poise that still maintained her respect in her house even though she was a prisoner. If you don't act like a prisoner people are intimidated to treat you like one.

"Cissy!" Narcissa looked up at Bellatrix's hiss. "What's going on?"

"I'm unsure," Narcissa said simply.

"I was told Severus was speaking with our Lord and that—"

"Bella," Narcissa sighed patiently, "we shall find out shortly. It makes no sense to speculate. If you wish you can sit with me."

Bellatrix looked at the door, her wild eyes searching for a way in as she ground her teeth in thought. Narcissa held back the urge to scold her and waited.

"Why is Severus talking for you anyways," Bellatrix went on, pacing in front of the door like a lioness locked in a cage. "He's always whispering, always gaining someone's ear. I don't trust him, Cissy. You shouldn't either. You should go in there. _We_ should go in there."

"Bella," Narcissa cooed, reaching out and taking her sister's hand, aware that the woman may lash out and strike her. She was careful. She knew her sister's madness and was ready for any attack. None came. "Sit with me, Bella. We can't go in. We don't even know what's happening."

Bellatrix bared her teeth at the door, but Narcissa gently pulled her to sit beside her, the hairs on the back of her neck going up from the proximity.

"You can't trust him, Cissy. You can't. Promise me you won't."

"Bella," Narcissa breathed. "Please."

"PROMISE ME!" Narcissa winced as her sister's fingers dug into her hand.

"You need to calm down, Bella."

"It's not right. It's not right that you trust him over me, your sister, your blood. You and that husband of yours—"

"Do not speak a word against my husband." Narcissa let her cool eyes meet her sister's crazed. "Not one word against him, Bellatrix. A word against my husband is a word against me. Remember that."

Bellatrix ripped her hands away and Narcissa knew that she intentionally took some of her skin with her. She pretended not to notice the deep scratches along her palms, even as her sister stood and tapped her long fingernails against the door.

She was mad, Narcissa was not blind to that. Bellatrix had always been unstable as a child, always had a touch of the Black madness, but Azkaban had broken her. Cracked her in a way that made it so she couldn't hold long to sanity. But she was her sister. Her only one, really. The last link to her family. To her life before marriage.

"Things would be better for you if you just took the Mark, Cissy."

Narcissa looked up from her chair allowing silence to be her answer.

"You would have more freedom, the Mark would prove your loyalty."

Narcissa bit her tongue about it being another form of shackles and hummed thoughtfully. As if it were an entertaining idea. Sometimes it was best to humor Bella. She had no qualms about fighting her, she had many times, but peace was easier. And she was not naive to the fact that her comfort was probably a combination of her new last name and her sister being so close with the Dark Lord.

"Did Severus say anything to you before going in?"

"Just to sit and wait."

Bella snorted. "And like a trained bitch you did as you were told." Narcissa watched her sister's hand go to the door knob.

"Bella," she cautioned.

Bella lunged, snapping her teeth a nail's width from Narcissa's nose, like a wild dog, before cackling, licking the tip of her nose, and throwing open the door. Narcissa didn't move, not even to wipe the spit on her away. Snape stood in the doorway, clearly about to leave. He raised a brow at Bellatrix, before pushing past her to where Narcissa sat.

"You are leaving for Hogwarts. The Dark Lord is opening the floo network for you. You will be taken to Hogsmeade and from there you may go to the school."

Narcissa waited for a moment, calming herself before she asked. "Why am I going to the school?"

Snape's eyes went to Bella for a moment, before they settled back on her. "Your daughter stabbed herself."

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Narcissa hurried through the halls of the castle to the hospital wing, her mind reeling with everything she had been told. Snape kept pace at her side. He had answered every question she had and even at times reassured her that her daughter was going to live. It didn't change the helplessness that she felt though, the disgust that was so strong it felt as though it coated her skin. She had lost her children. She could no longer protect them, no longer even make decisions on their behalf. They had been in a way ripped away from her.

"I want to remind you that it was not an easy task to get our Lord to agree to letting you come. If I had not convinced him you not coming would be seen as strange and raise suspicion he would not have relented on keeping you in the manor. Do not make me regret this."

"I understand," she acknowledged hollowly.

"Narcissa." Snape halted her, his hand gripping her arm tight enough to stop the circulation. "I need you to trust me. Do not do anything foolish."

"Of course." She tried to pull her arm away, but Snape held firm.

"Graces and Draco will not be harmed for this. I am going to leave and go back to our Lord and do my best to ensure that, but if you do something, Narcissa, I cannot help you. Do. Not. Run."

She ground her teeth slightly, but pressed forward. "I will take the Mark, and Nott's place among the Dark Lord's followers, if it means my children will be spared."

Snape was silent for a long while. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"Just tell him. Also remind him that I am much more capable than a boy of seventeen is."

"Focus on your children for the time being, we will discuss this after."

Narcissa frowned. "You don't want me to take the Mark," she said slowly, making note of Snape's attempts to push the suggestion aside. "Why is that?"

Snape moved closer to her, his height all the more intimidating. "Because it's not sincere," he said darkly. Narcissa checked her walls, and they were up, he could not have seen what she thought, this was merely a guess to her thoughts.

"It is not for you to decide. Give the Dark Lord my offer."

Snape sneered, and then his gaze shifted behind her. "We shall discuss it later, for now you have company and I must leave."

Narcissa turned, expecting to see Draco, and felt as though the wind had been kicked out of her as her sister stood before her.

Andromeda maintained her distance, her hands fidgeting close to her body as she stared at her from afar. Her heart pounded as she stared at Andromeda, as she took in how the years had aged her, how differently she dressed now. There was nothing lavish about her clothes, no stones—aside from the one on her wedding ring—that adorned her. And yet, she was the same.

She took a nervous step forward. "Cissy?"

"You don't get to call me that," Narcissa hissed, taking a step back and composing herself.

Andromeda had to audacity to look hurt. "I've always called you that."

"You lost that privilege when you ran off in the middle of the night with that mudblood and left our family in shambles."

Andromeda closed her eyes and held back her tears. "What was I supposed to do? I was in love; I'm still in love."

"What right did your love have to destroy us?"

"You weren't destroyed," Andromeda said quietly, her eyes scanning Narcissa's fine robes.

"No, because a boy loved me more than my own flesh and blood did. And risked everything he had to save me and my family from the snake that had crawled into our midst." Andromeda opened her mouth to say something, but Narcissa pushed past her. She needed to be with her daughter, she didn't have time for what was already done.

"Cissy, wait!"

Narcissa continued on as though she had not heard the other woman's pleas. She had buried her feelings for her sister. The feeling of deep betrayal and anger mixed with mourning had been one of the hardest things for her to work past. There was even a time she could not get out of bed, not because she was embarrassed for her stature in the world, but because she knew she had lost her sister in a way worse than death. She couldn't even say her name or acknowledge her existence.

Lucius had saved her in more ways than one. He had given her a new life, new people to love. He had demanded her attention and affection and taken her mind away from the hurt deep inside of her. And he had talked to her about it. Raged about it for her benefit and understood when she asked him to ensure her traitorous sister's safety.

She knew she was out of line to so much as ask. Her sister was to be nothing to her and what befell her after her marriage was on her, but she did. She was married to one of the most influential men of their time. He was right hand man to a Dark Lord steadily rising in power and if she could sleep at night knowing her sister would live through it she had to at least ask. He had stared at her for a long time when she made the request. And she remembered how hard it was to be still standing there, a newly married girl in her new bedroom wearing a nightgown and ring that felt far too sophisticated for her young body. And when he asked why the only reply she dared to give was "because she's my sister."

She didn't have to say more. He agreed, the only condition being that she never acknowledge her as blood again. "For your own safety," he had explained, kissing her softly and letting that be the end of it.

Narcissa jumped at the hand on her arm.

"I know that Lucius put you on a dark road and that you don't feel like you can turn back, but you can. Cissy, please. If you need help, let me help you. I have connections, I can take you and your children somewhere safe. I can—"

"I don't need anything from you."

"That boy—the one that attacked Graces—he has the mark. He's a Death Eater, don't tell me you—"

"Let me make something clear," Narcissa hissed, yanking her arm away. "You lost the right to ever so much as look at me the day you ran off in the middle of the night. I am not your sister. We are not family. And you have no business pretending to know my situation."

"You're in danger. Cissy, your children are in danger. I beg you, to listen to me. To let me try to—"

Andromeda took a step back as Narcissa held her wand out against her.

"I ignored your letters for a reason. I want nothing to do with you. I would rather die than ever accept anything from you. I loved you and you chose some boy over me. You chose a boy who you knew for a few years, over me your sister who you were raised with. And I will never forgive you for that. For making me feel so—" she took a moment to regather herself, to stop the tears and the old wounds from reopening. "When you chose him, you chose to live without me. You threw me away."

"You made your choice, Mrs. Tonks," she spat the name. "Don't come decades later and try to reclaim me. You knew what marrying that boy meant. Now you must live with it, because I will not be around someone who didn't treasure me or my love. I will not allow my children to be around someone who could turn their backs on family. Who could throw away sisterly love. A mother's love. A father's love." Narcissa laughed, or cried, she didn't know which. "For a boy."

Something close to devastation was visible on Andromeda's face. She opened her mouth and closed it, biting her trembling lips.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to be with my daughter."

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It was pain. Pain surrounded him, drowned him. He didn't want to move, didn't want to continue. He wanted to escape, but there was none. He cursed Graces' and Neville's names. The first stabbing was bad enough, but the second... that was worse. He could still hear Graces' words as she loomed over him and told him what potion she brewed and yanked the dagger out of his gut. "If you so much as whisper his name I will make you pay." He had believed, foolishly, that she was going to get him help, that she just didn't want him to tell the teachers who came that Neville had stabbed him, until he felt the next stabbing in his gut. He groaned and opened his eyes to the blazing white room he was in.

"Well, well, look who's finally awake."

Nott looked over to the healer sitting in the corner of his room, a proud smirk on his lips.

"Are you going to help me? Or sit there while I'm in pain?" Nott spat, glaring at the scrawny man and wondering if he had a family and what ways he could make him pay for allowing him to continue to suffer.

"Sorry, not qualified to help you there," the healer shrugged, leaning back in the chair and chuckling softly as Nott hurt himself trying to sit up.

After a few moments Nott laid back down, panting from the efforts.

"You're making a mistake," he said darkly.

"I believe you are the one who made a mistake," the healer countered, stretching his arms above his head and arching his back.

Nott had enough and opened his mouth to call out, but before he could the healer silenced him with a flick of his wand.

"It's funny how well guarded you are. Obviously the Auror department was worried you would somehow escape, or some Death Eater would come to your aid. They have all these people guarding your door but no one watching the healers and mediwitches surrounding you. It's like they forgot how easy it would be for someone like me to knock the healer out and use polyjuice to get in here."

Nott stared at the man in front of him unsure if he should feel relieved because he was about to be rescued and returned to the Dark Lord, or terrified because the Malfoys had come for their pound of flesh. He had his answer when he looked at the wand still in the hea—no, Graham's hand.

"Now, now, Theo, let's not make this an unpleasant visit," Montague mocked. " I'm just here to find out all that happened for our Lord. I will take the silencing charm off and you will not do anything to draw the attention of the healers or Aurors outside the door. You will tell me what happened and I will give the memory of your testimony to our Lord."

Nott swallowed and closed his eyes against the burning sensation in his side. He had no doubt that Graham acting as his healer had done nothing for his injuries. He took the silencing spell off, and Nott was just about to tell Graham about everything starting first with Graces' relationship to Neville Longbottom, when Graham cut him off.

"Before you speak, I want to make something clear," Graham continued, clearly not caring for how he had neglected him. "You are tied to Graces Malfoy with a justice ritual. There is no dissolving it. You are bonded to her pain and her life. What she feels you feel. Whatever harm her body undergoes, your body shall bear the same wounds. And when she dies, you too shall pass."

"That being said, it is in your best interest that Graces Malfoy lives a very long life, with as little pain or suffering in it as possible. I would also recognize that she is clearly—" he paused, thinking of a polite word. "—unstable," he settled delicately. "I wouldn't harm anyone she cares for either. She apparently has no qualms with self harm."

Rage raised under Nott's skin, hotter than the fever that had overtaken his body. Graham gave him a cool smile and reclaimed his seat. "The Dark Lord didn't send you. You came on your own. You came so you could get a confession that would protect her, that would ensure I came out looking like—"

"Like what you are," Graham finished, leaning forward in his chair.

"Are you always going to be Graces Malfoy's knight in shining armor, riding gallantly around into battle to save her?"

Montague frowned, and absently touched where his mark was as he seemed to be thinking. "I am many things," Graham said quietly. "But I am no knight."

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Graces looked around the ballroom of her home. The light blue walls, adorned with gold and marble paneling, intricately designed and connecting around the dance floor, it was breathtaking. She walked to the middle of the ballroom floor, her gown floating around her as though she were an angel walking among the clouds. She didn't see anyone at the grand piano in the corner, but she didn't question it when music began to play softly.

Nor did she question it when Draco appeared in the empty room, slowly stepping forward, his eyes never leaving her face as he came across the ballroom floor towards her, proud and handsome in his formal wear. Graces took the hand he held out to her and they soon fell into step. It was easy, second nature, she didn't need to think about what she was doing. Draco would lead, as he always had, as he always would. He smiled lazily and muttered some comment that made her smirk. They were perfect, each move synchronized perfectly to the other. Just him and her in a perfect waltz, one they had danced so often that it was second nature for their bodies to move to it. Draco manipulated her, showcasing their talent for dancing, their ability to make each complicated movement seem simple.

And then it wasn't just them, there were now others. A mixture of masked faces around them, watching them, the music became faster and she began to feel overwhelmed.

"Just watch me," Draco whispered, his voice drawing her eyes back to his matching ones. They had been so distant, so disconnected for so long, but right now she didn't feel that. Everything was as it was. She swallowed and fell back into step, letting Draco lead them among the Death Eaters around them. She watched as he wove through them, dancing intricately around the others, holding her safely to him, his eyes aware of everything and everyone around them.

She tried to keep up, to not stumble, but she continued to falter. Between the ominous music and masks she could barely breathe. She turned, but Draco wasn't before her when she came back around. She stepped back, her gown falling quietly around her as Neville stood in front of her in her home as though it were the most obvious place for him to be.

Neville held out his hand, his kind eyes patient as he waited for her. Her heart was fluttering in her chest, not from fear, but from elation at him being there standing in front of her. Before she could think, she took his hand, falling into a new dance, one not nearly as perfect, as practiced, but one she felt just as comfortable in. She moved closer, hiding from the eyes around her. The world blurred around her as they moved, turning and spinning in a way that dizzied and freed her all at once. She was unbound, alive and in the arms of a boy that made some hidden part of her heart come alive. She suddenly forgot where she was, who she was and that there was a war going on. She was just a girl, smiling and dancing with a boy at a ball.

And then the world stopped spinning and Draco was there, watching her with Neville, his lips tight with disapproval, holding out his hand, waiting for her to come back. She looked up at Neville, his kind eyes nervous for her decision. But in the end there was only one choice. She closed her eyes and removed herself from Neville's arms and took Draco's hand.

Suddenly, they were running or dancing, she wasn't sure. But they were moving down a tight hall with glass coming out of the walls, scratching and tearing at their skin and clothes. Draco held her, dancing through the danger in a way that was tearing him apart. She screamed, wanting to stop, to go back, but he continued, the hall getting narrower and narrower and the cuts deeper and deeper. She begged, begged them to stop but he persisted, never even looking down. It was like he didn't hear her.

She looked down the hall and saw Neville coming towards them, pushing through the dangers and gritting his teeth at the pain that the shards caused. There was no stopping him either. He burrowed through it all, desperate to get to her. She stopped moving, hoping her dead weight would stop her brother from going further, but he picked her up and they continued on.

"Go back, Neville! Go!"

But he didn't go back, only forward.

"Draco, stop! Draco, stop!" And she was fighting him, fighting her brother with all of her might. Screaming for him to listen to her. Because she couldn't go further, she couldn't let them tear themselves apart for her. Not him, not Draco.

When they finally did stop, it was not because of her efforts. They were surrounded. There was no more hall, only a room filled with sharp edges. They couldn't even move. Anything they did could kill them. There was one way out and it was pitch black. Too dark to see if there was more shards waiting. She moved closer to Draco, terrified as he seemed on the edge of panic looking down into that dark abyss.

And then Neville was there, standing outside of the room in a hall similar to what was in front of her and Draco and holding his hand out to her to come with him. Draco looked down at her, his eyes begging her not to leave. To stay. To continue on with him.

She felt sick. She couldn't leave Draco. No, not for anyone, not for anything. But she wanted to go with Neville. She wanted Draco to come with them. She didn't know what was in either hall, but she wanted to go down the one with Neville, regardless of the danger. The hurt in her brother's eyes showed that he knew this, and she was crying she was crying, wanting to explain but unable to. She stepped back, ashamed of her own traitorous heart, and screamed as a shard pierced deep into her stomach.

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Graces awoke to moonlight, moonlight and pain. She was so focused on the pain she almost didn't notice the hands wrapped tightly around both of hers. Draco and Thomas were both fast asleep at her bedside, each holding onto a hand as their tear splotched faces rested against the soft blankets. Graham was there too, sleeping in a corner of the room, his arms crossed over his chest and a permanent frown lining his forehead as he slept.

Then her heart stopped as she saw her mother. Her mother was here, in this room, sleeping in the chair next to Graham. She hadn't realized how much she missed her mother, how badly she yearned for her until she saw her. She couldn't stop the hot tears from coming and she knew it was childish, but she wanted her mother to wake up and she wanted to tell her everything and apologize for their last encounter being hurtful and spiteful. She wanted to tell her she loved her and she was sorry. Sorry for everything, sorry she wasn't the daughter she should be.

"Graces?"

Graces jolted as Neville appeared beside her. Well, half of him appeared. He pulled off the rest of the invisibility cloak and moved closer to her. Concern edged in every part of his face.

"Are you in pain? I can—"

"You can't be here. You-you—" Graces looked around at all the people in the room. Draco, Graham, Thomas, her mother. He couldn't be here. He couldn't. She tried to sit up, but flinched as pain raked down her side.

"It's fine. It's fine, really. Your mother, uh, slipped the three of them a sleeping potion when they weren't looking and I, uh, slipped her one when she wasn't."

"She—you—"Graces tried and failed to process everything at once. "Why were any of you slipping sleeping potions to one another?"

Neville stared at her for a few moments. "Graces," his voice broke at her name. "You haven't woken up in two days."

She didn't need Neville to explain further. She laid back in the bed, letting everything sink in.

"What were you thinking?" Neville asked, his voice thick with emotion. "Why-why would you do this? How could you do this?"

Graces turned away, unable to answer. Not wanting to answer.

"Answer me!" Neville demanded, grabbing hold of her shoulders and refocusing her on him.

"Neville, please."

"You almost died," Neville rasped. "You almost died. They barely saved you. _Barely._ You've been asleep for almost two days. Why would you do this? Why? Why?!"

"Neville."

"Why!" His hands had now wrapped in her hair and he was forcing her to look at him. She looked at the dark bags under his eyes, the raw skin from salted tears.

Her lip trembled. "I couldn't let you. I couldn't." It hurt to move, but she moved to kiss him. "Not you. Not you. How was I to go on? How? After that? After letting you do that? I couldn't. I couldn't let you do it."

"It was my choice. Mine. I—"

"You couldn't have possibly understood what you chose."

Neville's mouth twisted and his head fell. "I knew exactly what I was choosing. I understood it all. Tell me how _you_ could choose to stab yourself in the gut. No, tell me how you could physically bring yourself to do it?"

Graces could barely breathe.

"Most people—" Neville paused and she watched as his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed his emotion. "—wouldn't be able to bring themselves to do what you did, Graces... There's something in us that prevents us from-from harming ourselves in such a way. But you did it."

The silence that followed was so heavy she felt as though she were choking on it. "Did you want to die?" Neville asked fearfully, he looked at her like he didn't know her. Like they didn't spend night after night together.

"No, of course not," she breathed, looking away despite the truth in her words. She focused on her breathing, on her heart beating inside her chest, on the pain that was radiating in her torso and steadily becoming worse. She wanted to live. She did. She had taken every precaution to ensure she lived. She went to Tonks instead of Hagrid because she knew that Tonks would have knowledge of first aid. An Auror would know what to do for a stabbing.

Neville gently took her wrists and carefully pulled her hands away from Thomas and Draco's so he could hold them in his palms.

"Your healer thinks otherwise. She thinks—she thinks this was a cry for help. That you—"

"I did this for you," Graces hissed wincing at the pain in her side and closing her eyes as she tried to move past it. "You know me. You should know better than to think that. How could you think I would be so weak? So—" Graces grunted and turned slightly, feeling nausea as a wave of pain swept over her.

Neville gently held her hands tighter, holding her to the world in a way, before releasing her hands and going to a table at the other side of the room.

"It's for your pain," he said quietly, coming over and handing her the vile. "They told your mother she could give you some when you woke. It will also let you sleep some more."

Graces nodded, but didn't bring the potion to her lips. "I know you have something to say."

"It can be said later. You need rest and I don't want you to suffer."

"The pain is still mostly quiet. I want to hear what you have to say."

Neville's face twisted. "Please take the potion," he begged. "I don't want you in pain."

"Neville," Graces whispered, reaching her hand up to his face. She had slept for two days, and it was clear Neville had stayed awake for them. "Don't cry."

"Please, don't cry," she hushed, pulling him down and kissing him softly. Feeling his warm lips on hers and not minding the least that his mouth tasted stale and dry. He hesitated at first, before kissing her back. She could feel him holding back, too frightened of her fragile state to kiss her the way she wanted to be kissed. To let himself kiss her the way he wanted to.

"I almost lost you. I-I almost lost you." Graces could barely catch her breath as Neville looked down at her with such brokenness. "I came in here and watched people run around desperately trying to keep you alive. I saw you ghost white from your veins being emptied. I—" Neville paused and choked on a sob. "You were lifeless, Graces. You looked as though you were gone. Limp and bloodsoaked on a table, with your stomach open and two healers' hands buried deep inside you muttering spell after spell. And all I could do was stand there watching." Tears were streaming down her face as she listened. "I know why you did this," Neville whispered, his own tears rolling down his chin. "You said in the woods that if I killed Nott it would be the death of me." Neville shook his head. "You were wrong. Losing you, Graces, would be the death of me. I felt myself dying with you on that table."

Neville was kissing her so desperately now. For a moment she lost herself in it, in him. She had thought of him, she remembered thinking of him as she drifted off. She remembered thinking of Draco, her mother, her father, Thomas and Octavian and then when she didn't expect it she thought of him. Draco stirred and she pushed Neville away, her heart in her throat, but gods be thanked he didn't wake.

"You have to go."

"No."

"Neville, please. If they wake up. If—"

"They won't," Neville swore. "Your mother gave them enough to knock out an erumpent and I gave her the same. They may not even wake up until afternoon tomorrow."

Graces bit her lip. "It's not safe, Neville. It's—"

"I can't leave you. I can't."

"Have you slept? Ate? Drunk some water? Showered?" she added, letting her eyes trail to his greasy hair and stubble.

Neville was quiet for a few moments. "Classes have been canceled. I go to some meals and-and appear here and there so it doesn't seem like I've disappeared."

"You need rest."

"I—"

"And my family will wake soon," Graces murmured, looking down at Draco. "You can't be here for that, Neville. My family and I will need privacy. We're lucky that no healer or mediwitch has heard us and come in."

"They're all in the headmaster's office, discussing everything."

"Neville," Graces sighed. "I want you to stay. I do, but you can't. Please. It's just for a small time."

Neville shook his head. "You're going to be here for a week. They have to monitor you for a week, to ensure you don't get an infection." Neville closed his eyes. "I can't be away from you for that long. I can't. Just leaving for a few minutes at a time each day kills me."

"I can't lose my family, Neville," Graces whimpered. "I can't. And if they find you here, I will lose them. I am begging you, Neville. Please, you have to leave."

They argued like that for a long while, and it wasn't until the hospital wing doors opened and Neville had to hurry and hide under the cloak while Graces' healer came in and checked on her. She pretended to sleep and almost broke her act when she felt the healer open her mouth and give her the pain potion, gently rubbing her throat to make her swallow, before turning to leave.

When Neville emerged after making sure the healer's footsteps were far away Graces' head was already beginning to feel heavier, her thoughts less solid. She tried to keep her eyes open as Neville gently kissed her forehead. There was one more thing to say, possibly the most important thing.

"I'll leave for a time, but I won't stay away. Just rest." He headed towards the door, and began to put the cloak on.

"Neville," she mumbled, her eyes already feeling too heavy. He paused and looked back at her, not moving from where he stood. "I believe you. I believe you love me."

He was silent for a moment, before sniffling and looking down at his shoes. "I-I know you don't feel the same. It's okay I don't need you to feel—"

"I don't know how I feel about you," she sobbed, her voice broken like a vase thrown against the wall. "I thought I did. I thought—" She swallowed. "I thought love was everything. It was no right, no wrong. I thought that if you loved someone you would do anything. And when you wouldn't take the Mark—" She let her voice trail off. "But I was wrong. I was so wrong. And I realized when I stabbed myself that if I was wrong about what love is maybe... maybe I already do feel that for you."

She met his eyes and realized that he looked as terrified as she felt.

"I don't know if I love you, Neville Longbottom, but I want to find out." Graces swallowed, unsure if she should say this next part. "And it brings me such joy to know you love me. The moment you said it I—" she shook her head unable to put into words all that she felt in that moment. It was too much. "I'm sorry that I'm such a mess I don't know how I feel, I am. But I want to find out."

"And if you do?" he asked, his face hopeful.

She closed her eyes and forced them open again. "Then it would change everything."


	89. Chapter 89

Harry was beginning to wonder if Neville would ever arrive back in the dorms. He pinched his arm to keep from nodding off as he watched the entrance. It was doing a poor job of keeping him alert. He considered again if he wanted to wake Ron and ask him to wait with him, but that would bring about more questions than he would like. The last thing Harry wanted was to wrong Neville again, so he waited.

He knew Neville would never have harmed Graces. He knew that deep in his bones. Not only was Neville not capable of it, but the look on his face these past few days mirrored his after his loss of Sirius. He leaned back into the chair cushion and drowned those thoughts, not wanting that hurt to overtake him. Instead he focused on what he had seen between Neville and Graces these past few months. There was so much when he actually sat down and laid out every odd exchange between them in Herbology since the beginning of the year, through the tutoring sessions, to the fight Graces and Neville had had in front of him and Graham in the hall. He knew that he could be a bit dense, but he now felt as though he were blind.

She was hurt, Graces Bellatrix Malfoy, was utterly crushed when she found out Neville had chosen not to befriend her brother. He closed his eyes and replayed the memory again and again. She was more than just hurt when he pictured it, she looked utterly heartbroken. Neville Longbottom, it would appear, had the power to make Graces Malfoy cry with no hexes or harm, but with a simple refusal. And not only that, he had the ability to demand something from her. When Graces had shoved him, Neville hadn't balked, he had acted. He held her wrists and whispered sternly to her, and she—even in her rage—had conceded.

So that left the question: what were they? Neville had said they were secretly friends, that the friendship had developed through the tutoring and it was nothing more than that on Graces' part. He was supposedly the only one to harbor any deeper affections, but it didn't seem that way. It seemed like Graces harbored something deeper as well, or at least pretended to.

The common room door opened up then, and Harry stood, looking about at the emptiness before him. "We need to talk," Harry proclaimed to the open room, knowing Neville was there, hidden under his invisibility cloak. Harry waited, his stance and jaw set, until slowly Neville revealed himself.

The sternness that Harry had gathered for this confrontation immediately melted away as he took in Neville. He stared at the boy in front of him, at the brokenness of him. His eyes were red from exhaustion and tears, his pallor pasty, his hair and skin looked so oily Harry could see the shine even now in the darkened common room. But it was the eyes that made him take a step back. Those weren't Neville's eyes. Neville's eyes didn't hold such wariness, such pain. Neville's eyes never looked hopeless.

"I'm tired," Neville whispered, closing his eyes for a brief moment as though he were fighting off sleep. "If you have something to say, say it quickly."

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. Neville raised an eyebrow before sighing and heading to the stairs.

It was right before Neville began to climb the stairs that Harry found his voice. "What happened the night you took my cloak?" he demanded, more desperate than angry. "Why did you need the map?" Neville paused on the stairs, his whole body taut, before slowly turning around. "What happened that night, Neville?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do," Harry maintained, walking forward. "And I want an answer, because there are a dozen rumors going around this school, and I want the truth, and I have a feeling you are the only one that knows it."

Neville said nothing, just stood there looking at Harry with that glassy expression.

"Hagrid could be fired. There are rumors of Nott being a Death Eater. He—"

"Those are your concerns?" Neville interrupted, his voice dangerously quiet. "That Hagrid will be fired, that a student was a Death Eater? Not that Graces Malfoy is in the hospital wing, not that she hasn't woken up."

"I have a lot of concerns—" Harry countered, his temper flaring. "—the first being what your involvement was."

"You think I harmed her?" Neville asked, his voice raising a few octaves in disbelief.

Harry was silent for a moment. "No," he said gently, "But I do think you were there. I think you know the whole story, something no one else seems to know. And I don't believe you're being honest with me about things." Harry swallowed. "I don't think you and Graces had a secret friendship going, I think it was more. A lot more."

Silence encased them. Neville stared at Harry in what Harry suspected was supposed to look like bewilderment, but he could see through the facade, see the fear. "Nothing is going on between Graces and I."

Harry didn't believe it, not for one second. It was said too calmly, too practiced.

"Neville," Harry breathed, placing his hand on Neville's shoulder. "I need you to be honest with me."

"I am."

"No, you're not," Harry persisted shaking his head. "It doesn't all add up, Neville."

Neville's jaw twitched, and the silence that enveloped the two of them was so loud Harry's ears were ringing.

"Talk to me," Harry begged. "Tell me what is going on."

Neville swallowed and let loose a breath. He was paler than before and Harry watched as he ran his hands through his sandy hair as he considered his words.

"You can tell me, Neville. Whatever Malfoy has got you mixed up in you can tell me. I'll understand. I know—"

" _Malfoy_ doesn't have me mixed up in anything," Neville snarled, moving out from under Harry's hand. "And, in case you forgot, _**she's**_ the one that is lying in the hospital wing! So stop acting as though she's the one that's responsible! She's the victim!"

Harry took a step back and tried to regain his footing in the conversation. He didn't know how to even approach the boy in front of him. "I'm sorry," he began slowly. "Obviously, I don't know what happened, so I wouldn't know that. If you had told me what happened, like you promised—" Harry pointed out. "—I would have known. But as it stands, I just see what's in front of me. You took my cloak and map. Graces and Nott, a Death Eater, were hurt in the dead of night, in the woods, heading back to the castle, after an attack on a Ministry official's home, which has now been linked to Nott."

Neville's eyes narrowed.

"I don't think you had anything to do with that," Harry swore, moving forward. "I don't. I thought maybe—"

"You just think Graces does," Neville surmised, his voice going dangerously low. "You think she was involved in this Death Eater business."

"What am I supposed to think, Neville? Give me another explanation because right now it looks like your girlfriend is involved with Death Eaters and got herself hurt. Deservingly so too because, just so you know Neville, she and Nott killed that official and his family. Maybe you should think of that the next time you sneak off to be with her in the dead of night!"

"Deservingly so," Neville repeated, his whole body shaking as he glared hatefully. Harry didn't care. He had tried to talk with Neville and be open and instead he got this, not even an attempt. Neville gathered up Harry's cloak and map and shoved them hard into his chest. "Go fuck yourself."

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Draco still had not released his sister's hand after the Auror that wanted her statement left. He also had yet to look at her. All of that had happened right under his nose. Nott had been intimidating and trying to violate her for months and she had never breathed a word to him about it. They were strangers. He knew they had become distant, but not that distant. She had kept so many things hidden from him.

He stared down at the floor and tried to find that ancient connection to her, digging deeper and deeper in his soul to find that bond that had always been there. Was it still there? Was he holding her hand to comfort her, or was he holding it to try to hold onto something he had already lost with her?

"When he attacked you in October, when he—he potioned you and you hid in the barn before the potion put you under, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me about him in the classroom with you and Longbottom? Or—"

"Because you would have killed him, Draco," Graces whispered, her voice giving away her exhaustion. "And you would have been killed for your insolence in killing him."

_Maybe_ , Draco thought, considering how he had felt when he was first told, when he heard her telling the Auror of everything that happened. She had given memories of some things and refused for others. The Auror was patient the whole time, never pressing or asking for anything she wasn't willing to give. There had been times when Graces had taken forever before responding, when she had just sat and thought before detailing the event. The Auror never once tried to hurry her, and Draco had kept silent the whole time, only holding her hand.

"You should have told me," he whispered, his heart aching in his chest. He didn't cry. He had cried too much for tears now, days of crying silently to the gods to save her, of crying angrily in the bathroom at the fates, and this morning crying tears of joy to see her silver eyes open, of knowing he wasn't alone. But he _felt_ alone, even now with her beside him.

"I know about your eye." Graces tensed. "Why didn't you tell me about that?"

She moved to take her hand away, but Draco gripped it harder, turning to look at his sister. She looked at him too, and for a moment he sensed her before she turned her eyes from his.

"I knew what you would say, what you would do."

Draco released her hand and stood from the chair by her bed side. "You knew I would have your eye repaired?"

"Replaced," Graces corrected quietly.

Draco ran his hands through his hair and tried to organize his thoughts. His mind was jumping from frustration to pity and in all of it the question kept eddying through his mind, was his sister truly this unstable?

"Tomorrow, a healer is coming. He will begin the process of replacing your eye, restoring your sight."

"No."

"It's not up to you," Draco declared, steadying himself against her tears. "It's up to me, and I have made my decision."

"It's my eye!"

"It's useless," Draco said coldly. "It isn't even an eye anymore, just decoration on your face. It serves no purpose."

Graces shook her head, tears rolling down her face. "You can't take my eye. You can't."

"That's where you're very wrong, Graces," Draco sighed. "I can and I will."

"Draco, please."

"Do you think I want to do this?" Draco demanded. "Do you think I want to make this choice?"

"Then don't!"

"Do you know what they're saying?" Draco whispered tightly. "They think you're mad. The healer wants to take you away. They think you wanted to die and that you have been descending into madness for some time. They believe you are incapable of making decisions that aren't self destructive. So I have to make them," Draco choked, his voice as small as he felt. "One of us has to make the right decisions; has to take care of the family. I had to grow up."

"Draco, I beg of you don't. Let me remain whole, please." Draco shook his head from his sister's tears, her horrible gasps of breath as her words became ragged. "You can't do this to me!"

"I can and I will."

"You will not." Draco turned at his mother's voice. Narcissa stood there watching them like an eagle perched high above her prey, her sharp eyes piercing through him where he stood. He wondered how long she had been standing there. "But I will," she continued, stepping forward so she was fully in the room and no longer a shadow on the wall.

Graces began to speak, but was silenced by a simple gesture of her mother's hand. "Before you say a word remember who made that eye. Who grew you in their body and fed you from it as well. Remember who has devoted their whole life to raising you and keeping you whole."

"The day you two were born I swore to keep you from harm. You were both so perfect." Narcissa swallowed, the only physical sign he could see of the pain she was harboring. "It is a mother's duty to tend to her children."

Draco took a step back as his mother's eyes fell to him. "You will release your claim as patriarch, Draco. I have all the paperwork ready for you to sign."

"You want to strip me of my title?"

"I want to unburden you," Narcissa corrected slowly . "You will not be stripped of the title, it will be given to me until your father is released, or until you come of age."

"I come of age in a few months."

"Your father will be with us by then."

"You can't know that," Draco countered, shaking his head and backing away.

"Then you will have a few months of peace, and we will reevaluate the situation if need be."

"But what—"

"Draco, I am not asking you," Narcissa said quietly, folding her palms together.

An oily feeling began to coat Draco from the inside. Graces stared at their mother, her mouth agape, clearly as shocked as Draco felt. He took a breath and tried to quiet his mind. Tried to piece together what this would mean, what it would change, if it would even help and ignore the impulse to grab for a quill and sign each damn page twice.

"We will look weak; I will look weak."

His mother raised a cool eyebrow. "We already look weak."

"If I sign this we will be weak," Draco hissed, pointing at the ground. "You are in a worse position than I to care for us. You aren't even free in your own home."

Draco did his best not to buckle under his mother's glare. She stood there looking at him with a predatory stillness he had never had turned on him, only seen when she was furious with his father. "Do you think I can't take care of you? That I couldn't protect you from what's to come?"

Draco avoided his mother's gaze. "I believe you would try," he said carefully.

"That I would try?" his mother repeated, her voice dangerously quiet.

Draco fought the urge to chew on his lip. "You couldn't protect me before, how do you think you will be able to protect me now?"

"Sign these papers and I will."

"What will it change?" he barked, frustrated that his mother could not see forward enough to realize it changed nothing.

"I will have the ability and authority to help you, I will be able to make decisions. You no longer will have the weight of this family on your shoulders."

"I don't think you're the person to make decisions for us."

"You think you are?" Narcissa asked, her eyes narrowing. "You still believe that even now as your sister lies in that bed?"

"Mum," Graces whispered. "It wasn't Draco's fau—"

Narcissa shot her daughter a glare that she had only used when she was a rambunctious child in public before turning back to Draco. "If I was taking care of you two, if your father had been sensible and ensured I would act as head of the house until you were of age, your sister would still have her eye!"

"Maybe she would," Draco conceded, his eyes filling despite himself. "But she would also be dead."

"Draco." Draco turned to where his sister sat staring at him as though she didn't know who or what he was, her eyes pleading with him to stop, to not say another word.

"You would be. She would have done something rash. Something that would get you and me both killed. She would have tried to run. You did try to run. And I know what happens to those that run."

"You know what happens to those that run and are caught."

"There's nowhere to run, mother."

"Draco, you are making a mistake, a grave mistake. You cannot do this. Sign the papers."

"I don't think I am. No matter what I have a task to do. A task that holds our family's future; me signing these papers won't change that."

"I will—"

"You won't, because you can't. You want to be my mother in more than name, but the truth is you can't be. You just can't. You lost us a long time ago." Draco realized, his voice shaking with the realization.

"Draco! Draco come back!"

Draco ignored his sister's cries, he had to leave. Had to get as far away as possible from both of them, because in truth standing there with them made him feel more alone.

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"Draco! Draco!"

"You need to rest. Graces, stop this at once."

It broke her already shattered heart to have her daughter turn away from her and cry into her pillow rather than her arms. Narcissa swallowed the pain and smoothed her daughter's hair.

"You blamed him. You blamed him for everything," Graces sobbed, trying to move out from under her hand.

"Graces—"

"None of it was him! None of it! I made my own choices! I made all those choices! I did this to myself! I did it to myself."

Narcissa was thankful her daughter refused to look at her in that moment; thankful she couldn't see how those words destroyed her.

"I know you did."

"Then why put it on Draco? Why?"

"Because Draco and you are far too young to take care of yourself. Because I need your brother to understand that he needs me." Graces didn't acknowledge her words, she just cried more. Narcissa watched as she flinched from the movements her shaking caused.

"I need Draco," she sobbed, her voice filled with gravel. "I need Draco."

Narcissa nodded and wished she would have remembered that Draco and Graces only banded together in conflict. She had hurt Draco, and Graces would side with him, forsaking reason.

"I am just trying to do what's best for you both. I just want to protect you. You will never know how much I love you and Draco. There is no end to what I would do to keep you safe."

Narcissa stared down at her daughter and knew without a shadow of a doubt that what the healer said was true. Graces was not Draco, she was not made of the same iron that held him together, that allowed him to go on. She was made of something softer, something more fragile.

"Graces," Narcissa pulled her daughter's damp face around towards her and held her in her hands as she wept. Narcissa searched those silver eyes for the fire that had once been there, and when it could not be found she asked the question she didn't know if she wanted the answer to. "Did you want to die?"

Graces was silent for a moment, her gray eyes looking so far from her father's. Lucius never looked so unsure, so lost. She had her father's eyes, but there was Black in there, too much Black. Narcissa couldn't stop the small sob from coming forth as she saw how her own blood weakened her child. Malfoys were logical and rational, cold and calculating, ice that burns. Blacks felt too much, fire and passion, and fire was so much harder to control. She pushed thoughts of Sirius and Andromeda away from her as she looked at her daughter. Would she fall because she reacted too fast, because she felt too much? Her heart would betray her, she could see it right there in those eyes.

"I didn't want to die," Graces whispered, moving close to hold her as though it was Narcissa that needed the comfort. "Mummy, don't cry. I didn't want to die."

Narcissa held her daughter close and ran her free hand through Graces' now short hair, noting the sweat that dampened it. Graces' skin was hot to touch as her body raged a fever to fight the infection that had begun. It was being managed. She had been assured by every healer that they could beat the infection. They were being as aggressive as they could be, and she would be ill, weak, and may even need more time in the hospital wing, but she was going to recover fully. Her body was going to heal, but her mind was why Narcissa couldn't stop the tears. She thought of her sister, Sirius' mother, the Black madness that stained her family and she wondered if it had touched her daughter's mind.

"I will not send you away and I will not allow your brother to send you away," Narcissa stressed, pulling Graces away so she could look into her face. "But I need to know why you did this, Graces. I need to know what you were thinking, how you came to the conclusion that this was the best course of action.

"You realize stabbing yourself could have killed you, didn't you?"

Graces nodded and looked away.

"Then what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't."

"Graces," Narcissa said sharply.

"I wasn't! I just—I just reacted."

"That's not good enough. I need to know why and what compelled you to go this far, to take these kinds of measures! Graces, you brewed that potion! That is not a potion you can just brew on an impulse. You waited until the dead of night, you attacked with a plan and that plan involved putting your own life at risk. Do not lie to me. You thought about it. You planned it. Now I want to know why you made a plan that almost killed you! I taught you better than that! You know better than that! Now, answer me. What were you thinking?"

Graces made no real attempt to answer, she cried and repeated the same thing over and over. She didn't know. She was sorry. And, each time she cried and begged to be held and apologized, Narcissa felt like she was sinking deeper into hell. She came to pull them out, to save her children from this quicksand that held them, but neither would take her hand. So they were all to sink, all to be damned.

She climbed into the too small bed and held her daughter close as her too frail body was wracked with the onslaught of sobs and tears. She held her for hours until Graces had worn herself out and drifted away to sleep, Her puffy, red eyes hidden in a mess of golden hair and Narcissa's robes.

She had never in her life been so powerless. She had refused the Mark to keep herself free from restraints and now here she was shackled. How was she to leave when her husband and children were in chains? Never in her life did she think her son would be forced into service to a madman and her daughter would be the target of so many attacks. The Dark Lord dangled Graces' and Draco's life before her like gold to a niffler.

There were too many secrets in this family, secrets that prevented her from being of real use. She laid there in that bed wondering how she could know so little about her children and their lives. She wanted to believe it started when Snape had stopped their correspondence through letters, but as she laid there holding her daughter she knew it ran deeper than that.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts she didn't notice Pomfrey enter with a tray of broth and bread until the woman was setting the food down on the bedside table beside her. She moved to pull herself up from where she was, but the other woman waved a hand for her to remain.

"It's not weakness to comfort your child."

It still didn't feel right to be seen this way, but she didn't move. She laid back down and held Graces closer, slipping back into her own thoughts.

"Has the fever subsided?"

"She feels the same," Narcissa whispered distantly.

Pomfrey reached her hand between them to feel Graces' head before waving her wand to get a clear read of her status.

"No change, which isn't at all uncommon," the older witch added quickly. "Is she still nauseous?"

"Yes. She refused breakfast. When I pressed her to eat some toast it came back up maybe ten minutes later." Pomfrey nodded and made some note of that in Graces' chart. "Is that from the infection?" Narcissa asked, unable to keep the worry from her voice.

"No. It's from the potions," Pomfrey sighed. "It's a lot to have in her system. It's natural that she should feel sick with so many potions sitting in her stomach. I would like to get her to eat though, just some bread and broth. The next round of potions are very intense and it would be good for her to have some food in her stomach, not to mention food will make her stronger."

"She's barely keeping down the potions," Narcissa sighed, rubbing the middle of her forehead.

The mediwitch was silent for a few moments, before gently clearing her throat. "I do have something that will help with the nausea." Narcissa looked up and waited. "It's called ondansetron. It's a Muggle medication, but—"

"Absolutely not," Narcissa hissed, moving Graces off her and standing so she was at full height.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I would beg you to reconsider. Your daughter needs to eat and she needs to keep more of the potions down than she currently is. She will recover so much faster if she was eating and not throwing up half the potions we give her. She's dehydrated and—"

"The last I checked our family healer was placed in charge of Graces' care, followed by the healer from St. Mungo's. Both those healers seem to believe she is healing fine."

"Is fine the most you would want for your daughter? Fine is not great. She could be doing so much better." Pomfrey took a deep breathe. "And the healers in charge of her care hold the same beliefs that you do. They would never consider giving her anything made by Muggles, and they believe so out of hatred with no regard for logic."

Narcissa did her best to rein in her temper. The last thing she needed was to draw too much attention to herself. McGonagall already had asked for her wand. Her bare arm didn't seem to hold much weight with the Gryffindor, and she doubted that her conversation with Pomfrey would go unreported to the headmaster and the old cat.

"I am declining your offer. Thank you for the concern and for the broth. You may go, and in the future I would prefer only the family healer to attend to my daughter."

The mediwitch stared at her for a little too long to be polite before taking out a bottle and setting it on the tray that held Graces' food. "Every four hours. Only take one, let it dissolve on her tongue before she swallows it."

"I believe I made myself very clear we—"

"You're a good mother," Pomfrey interrupted sharply. "You love your children. And I believe that your love will overpower your hate, and you won't stand there and watch your daughter vomit out the nutrients that her body so desperately needs. I believe you won't just stand there idly as she wastes away." She paused and seemed to be gathering herself. "I have faith in your love, even if I don't have faith in your humanity."

Narcissa was left with those words echoing through her mind. She grabbed the vial of "pills" and almost threw it out of her daughter's room, but the older woman's words haunted her, compelled her even. So in the end she tucked the vial in her pocket, all the while telling herself she would not use them.

But it didn't matter how many times she told herself that. When the moment came and her daughter was trembling, covered in her own sick and crying into a bowl of broth that had become a challenge to her, Narcissa's heart could not take it.

Graces started at the pill that she held out to her, her silver eyes recognizing that this was not right. Narcissa took a deep breath and did her best to pretend that this was not happening as she instructed Graces on how to take the small pill she held out to her. Graces looked up at her one more time before slowly taking the pill. She shivered as it dissolved on her tongue. Neither witch was able to say a word as they waited for the Muggle medicine to kick in. Narcissa had someone come clean her daughter up, and a little after that Graces asked for something to eat.

And she ate, with no gagging, no wobbling chin, no greening skin. She ate multiple bowls of broth, two pieces of bread and finished her water. Nothing came up. And she kept her next set of potions down on the first try, no need to attempt to take them again.

It worked, the Muggle medicine, it worked. It was a sobering realization. She would never tell a soul and she would deny it till there was no breath left in her lungs, but it didn't change the reality. It didn't change what she had done. It didn't change that the Muggles had something that they didn't.

"I gave Octavian the Polio vaccination," Graces whispered, shattering the silence that had encased them these last few hours. It took the older woman a moment to process what her daughter had just admitted to, and her face must of shown her horror. Graces shrugged, as though it was just factual, as though it didn't matter. She laid down and stared up at the ceiling like what she just said wouldn't get her killed. She closed her eyes. "It was the right thing to do."

"Graces." Graces slowly opened her eyes and turned to face her mother. "You cannot think like that."

Her daughter's face held no hint of what she was thinking. Narcissa felt as though she wasn't even staring at her child. It took all her will to not look away from the vacancy in her face. To not show that she felt like someone had poured ice water all down her back.

"I can feel him."

Narcissa didn't need to ask who him was. "Does it hurt?" Narcissa asked cautiously, her eyes not moving away from Graces'. "Can you feel his pain?"

Graces shook her head, but her eyes were far away in thought. "It's— it's like he's there. In the back of my mind. I—I can feel a connection. I can feel him. He's right here under my skin." Narcissa could barely breathe, now it felt like _she_ needed one of those Muggle pills.

"You always warned me about blood magic. 'The cost is too great,'" she quoted nodding as though she was having some conversation that wasn't one-sided. "You warned about the bond." Narcissa took her daughter's hand, bringing her back from her thoughts to the present. "Can it make me feel other things?" Graces asked. "Can—can it make someone think they're in love?"

Narcissa was silent for a moment, before cautiously asking. "Do you think you are in love with Nott?"

Graces bit her lip, an old habit that Lucius had tried in vain to break.

"Not with Nott."

Narcissa lifted an eyebrow, and waited.

"I—I used blood magic earlier this year. I hurt someone, and it was the only thing I could think to do to save his life and now... now—" Her lips began to tremble and she didn't continue.

"Now you think you love him," Narcissa finished, leaning back in her chair from a newfound exhaustion. She remembered the note she had found in Graces room, the letter that the boy she was talking about must have written. She tried to remember what it said, but she couldn't. All she could remember was that it was beautiful, and love was definitely in this boy's thoughts.

"I don't know," Graces trembled. "But he-he loves me. He really loves me, and I am trying to figure out my feelings..."

"You're so young—" Narcissa broke in. "—so young, my darling. I know you may think it's love, and it may feel powerful and real, but—"

"It's real," Graces declared passionately. "What he feels is real. And I don't know if I created that feeling in him, or it grew on it's own, but it is very real for him."

"I don't care if mine are artificial, if it's the side effect of the potion. He's wonderful. He's —" Graces wiped away a tear. "If this is the blood magic's doing, it did me a service. He's a better man than I would have picked for myself. But he deserves better than me. He deserves more than me."

"That is not true. How could you think such a thing? How—"

"Oh, mum, it is. I'm a mess. I'm such a mess, and I don't treat him with the love he deserves. And I have to tell him that what he's feeling may not be of his heart's creation, that I may have created it, that I may have bound his affections, because he deserves to know."

"Graces, who is it?"

Graces looked up from her tears and bit her lip for a moment before saying she couldn't say.

"Graces, I am done with secrets in this family. Who is it?"

"It's better you don't know, mum."

"Does Draco know?" Graces shook her head. "Is he—is he Muggle-born?" Narcissa asked, unable to hide her fear.

"No! No, he's pure. He's pure I swear it," Graces exclaimed desperately.

"Then why—" Narcissa stopped short. There were many reasons why a pureblood could still not be appropriate. Narcissa looked at her daughter, her child that she had come so close to losing, so many times. She thought of her sister and all the people lost in the past war and in the new. She stood from her chair and sat on the bed, looking down at her still-crying child that had become a woman.

"Don't rush into love. Even if it is real. You are my daughter, you are a Malfoy and a Black. The part of you that feels so much, and so passionately it feels like your chest will be ripped open from emotion, is from me. The part that has prevented you from diving into this foolishness is from your father. And it is foolishness, Graces," Narcissa stressed, meeting her daughter's eyes. "Even if it's real. Even it you didn't create it. You are smart, charismatic, charming. The world could be yours if you wanted it. You feel like you're not enough, but you are more than enough. You are more than I ever hoped for. This boy should worship the ground you walk on, because he does not deserve you. And he certainly doesn't deserve the cost that you being with him would bring," Narcissa added bitterly.

"You have a choice. The world: a life of privilege, power and security. You can walk this earth knowing where you belong, knowing no one can touch you. We will eventually climb out of these defeats, Graces. We will be back on top. I know we will be," she said with a viciousness she didn't recognize. "Or you can choose this boy and give up the life you were born to, give up the family that loves you and walk with him through hell for a small chance at happiness. But even then that happiness will be clouded with pain, because you won't have Draco. You won't have your father..." Narcissa continued on through her daughter's tears. "I will always love you. If you choose this boy I will love you still. You will always be my daughter. Regardless of what your father says I will always protect you, even if I cannot go to you. I will find ways to keep you from harm, as I have kept my sister from harm."

Narcissa took a deep breath, resigning herself to make this commitment to her child. "I don't want to know his name. I don't want to know how far you've gone, because I have an idea of what you have done. All I ask is that you remember what love you were given first, and what it will do to Draco."

Graces opened her mouth to speak, but before she could calm down enough for words Draco walked back in. He didn't look any of them in the eye. He stayed by the doorway his head hung low as he seemed to be trying to decide if he should have came back at all. And in that moment Narcissa's worries were put to rest as Graces reached out for her brother and sobbed uncontrollably in his arms as though he had been gone for years and not just a few hours. She would never choose this boy over Draco. Life without Draco would not be an option for her. She would stay with her family, with the security they had, with Draco. Draco looked up at her next and she hugged him just as hard as Graces had, without the tears. He would keep his title and she would pray to the gods for the best, and for the next few days their family would pretend to be whole.


	90. Chapter 90

Neville had been waiting for hours. For a while it felt as though Harry would never fall asleep. When he finally did, Neville, in his paranoia, was too afraid to trust that he was truly sound asleep. He pretended to leave twice, waiting outside the door for Harry to follow, before he did indeed leave. He checked his watch and cursed at how little time the evening hours really held. He wondered if Graces was already fast asleep and prayed she wasn't. He had sent a letter asking her to meet him tonight and she had agreed, but he doubted she would be able to wait for him so long. She was being released from the hospital wing tomorrow, but she still couldn't be away from her bed long enough for someone to notice.

His stomach turned at the thought of not seeing her. He had not been able to visit since the first night, where so many things were left unsaid. He sent flowers daily, and he was surprised that every morning at breakfast he had a letter from her saying she was well, she was bored, Draco is worse than a mother hen and she missed him. He didn't know how she got away with sending the letters. He had a feeling that between Draco, her mother, Graham and Thomas she was rarely alone, but she found a way.

By the time he was in the hall leading to their room he was running. He was sure she must have left. Staying out this late increased the chances that she would be missed, but still he hoped. These past few days had been miserable. Every second of every day he wanted to go to her and check that she was okay. He didn't think he could wait longer now. If she wasn't in the room he was going to the hospital wing to see her.

"You're still here," he exclaimed after bursting through the door to find Graces sitting on the sofa.

"You said in your letter it might be awhile."

He knew that he shouldn't be staring at the black eye patch covering her eye, but he couldn't stop. It was all he could see.

"Say something."

"You never mentioned in your letters that-that—"

"Draco made the decision," Graces said quietly, looking away for a moment and absently brushing her fingers against the patch. "It's done. The healers removed it a few days ago. I have to wear the patch for a while. I can't control the new eye yet. It just moves about on its own." He could tell this was difficult for her, that just acknowledging it's presence was killing her, but she continued on forcing herself to say each word. "The patch helps, it doesn't want to move if there isn't anything to see. I have to practice using it, but until I can hold it still on my own I'm supposed to wear the patch when I'm not practicing."

"Does it hurt?" Neville asked cautiously.

Graces nodded her head but still didn't look at him. "It's not fully healed, so the wound is still pretty angry. Another reason for the patch. When the eye moves it hurts, not to mention the headaches."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Neville gently took her hand away from her face and held it in his.

Graces absently shrugged her shoulders and continued to avoid his eyes. "I thought you would visit. You said you wouldn't stay away." She looked up at him now her one eye filled to the brim with unfallen tears. "I planned to tell you in person, but you never came. You never wrote either. Not that the flowers weren't lovely—" Graces added quickly, "—but I thought you would write."

Neville cursed Harry and wished he was there with them now so he could punch his lights out. If Harry hadn't been watching his every move he would have written her something. Instead he could barely find the time to send a standing order to a florist to send Graces flowers anonymously for the week.

"I was worried your family would see," he offered lamely, kissing her hand. "I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you visit?"

"You told me not to." Another lie, he couldn't believe how easily it came to him and the worst part was she believed it. He couldn't tell her about Harry though, just as he couldn't tell her about Hermione.

"I know," Graces nodded, her voice breaking slightly. "I just missed you. I kept thinking you would visit, and—"

Neville pulled her into him and held her close. "I wanted to," he swore, burying his face in her hair. "Gods above and below I wanted to be there every second of every day." He knew he should be asking her about her eye, about her injuries, but he couldn't stop kissing her and he wasn't about to stop when she was kissing him back with the same desperation, leaning back to lay on the couch and pulling him on top of her.

"Are you well enough for this?" he panted, barely able to think straight when her hands were unbuckling his belt.

"You want to stop now?" Graces asked, moving her hands down his chest to the base of his shirt.

"You tell me if I need to," Neville stipulated, before diving back in. He doubted it was good. It was quick and almost primal. He just needed her, every movement was more to prove to himself that she was alive, there and well. He just needed to feel her skin on his, her warmth, hear her breath and it seemed Graces needed the same thing. Neville had to move his lips away from hers a few times just so he could catch a breath of air.

When it was over he just laid on the ground, panting and glistening with sweat. It was the first time in weeks he had relaxed and he was dangerously close to falling asleep.

"When did you know you loved me?"

Neville forced himself to sit up so he could see Graces' face. Even with one eye covered it wasn't hard to read her emotions. He reached out and caressed her cheek before asking what was wrong.

"I just—I just need to know," she muttered tightly. "When was it?"

"I _knew_ that day of your match against Gryffindor when we were together before the game," Neville said delicately, "I think I loved you long before then, but I realized how I felt then."

"Am I the kind of girl you expected to fall in love with?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you think you would ever fall in love with a girl like me? When you thought about the kind of girl you wanted to fall in love with, was she like me?"

Neville scowled, unsure why Graces was asking this and why it even mattered.

"Did you think you would find someone perhaps more kind or more sweet?" she offered, as though she maybe knew what he wanted. "Or perhaps a girl that was—"

"Did you think you would want to be with a man like me?" Neville countered, not enjoying where this line of questioning was going. Graces shook her head and quickly looked away. "What did you want?"

"What I wanted was stupid and shallow." Graces sniffed, still hiding her face. "I would have had a miserable life if I got what I wanted."

Neville pulled his trousers back on and sat down on the couch. He wasn't sure what Graces expected him to say, he doubted she knew the truth though. "I was too scared to want anything," he answered honestly. "I remember laying in bed once and just hoping beyond hope that someone one day might want me. I never dreamed I could have a girl like you. Never."

Graces let out a sound that was a mix between a laugh and a sob, before sitting up and looking at him. Neville suddenly had a very bad feeling.

"I have to tell you something."

Neville rubbed his hand down half his face. "Okay?"

"Do you remember the night I stabbed you?" Neville nodded. "Do you remember how I gave you my magic?" Another nod and an even greater feeling of dread. "That spell—" Graces continued, gulping down some of her own emotions "—it uses runes, but-but it also uses blood. It was blood magic."

Neville nodded, but still didn't see where this was going. He did know blood magic was illegal, but he could not for the life of him remember why it was, besides the fact that it was considered very dark.

"Blood magic creates a bond when used, a bond between the people involved in the spell."

Now Neville saw where this was going. He stood up from the couch and took a step back. "You think that what we have between us is because of a spell?"

"I don't know," Graces moaned miserably. "Yes? No?"

"Well, which is it?!"

"I don't know!" Graces screamed. "But I thought you should know. It wouldn't be right if you didn't."

"And you think that how you feel for me is because of it as well?"

"I don't really care if it is!" Graces exclaimed. "I'm glad I feel the way I do. I know I should despise myself for these feelings, do my best to stifle them out, but I can't. Merlin knows I have tried to keep away from you, but in the end we are always right back here. I want to be with you, Neville. I know what the cost will eventually be, but I can't just walk away, not without figuring out how I feel."

"Then why tell me this at all?!"

Graces looked up at him despondently. "If I didn't I would deserve you even less than I do now. You should know that what you feel may not be from your heart, but may have been created by me. You might have been able to fall in love with Hannah Abbott if it wasn't for my foolishness. You could have had a wonderful life, with a person who doesn't bring you so much pain, who loves you as easily as you love them," she finished tightly.

Neville bent down before where Graces sat and pried her hands from her face. "Graces, look at me." She shook her head and tried to resist, but he just continued to gently coax her until she was looking down into his face. "It's not a spell. There is no spell powerful enough to mimic love. None. Even love potions just mimic lust. This is not a spell."

"But what if it is? What if—"

"Then I—like you—don't care," Neville stated calmly.

"You will though," Graces moaned miserably. "You will when you want things I can't give you."

"Like what?"

"Like a real life, a family."

"Graces," Neville sighed. "You want that. I just want you. I am content to have this and only this."

"You won't be happy with this forever, Neville," Graces shook. "You can't."

"Yes. I. Can," Neville stressed. "I absolutely can be. Don't think for one second I will ever need more than just this from you. All I want is you in my arms. If the price of that is having to wait for night to fall so you can sneak away to be with me, I consider that a small price to pay."

He was silent for a moment, brushing her hair away to expose her face. "But you, my love, will be the one to want more." He gave her a sad smile. "You want it all and you can't imagine life without everything that you want. Spoiled brat," he teased, kissing a few tears away from her cheek. "I am not going to be the one to announce that I need more, Graces. You will be, and I have known that since the moment this started."

"Neville, I—"

"You will be the one to want a real life," Neville continued. "You're going to be the one to want a family. And when you realize that I can't give it to you, your happiness with me will fade. I won't be angry at you for it either. Just like I am not angry that you can't be with me openly, because it would cost you your family."

"How can you not be angry?" Graces asked indignantly. "How can you be so accepting of this? Why don't you demand different? Ask for what you want, what you need. Why do you have to be so-so—"

"So what?" Neville asked, frowning curiously at Graces frustration.

"Understanding! Self-sacrificing," Graces added, standing from the couch and moving to the other end of the room. "Why haven't you asked me to choose you?"

Neville's frown was now a complete scowl. He finally got up off his knees and opened his mouth to say something, to ask Graces what had gotten into her, but stopped.

"I will never ask you to choose, Graces. Never."

"You know I will eventually have to, have you really never thought to ask me to choose you?"

Neville took a deep breath, before answering he had not.

"Why not?" she asked, her words rough and harsh.

"Because there is no need for you to. Absolutely none! You do not have to choose! This is enough for me, so why would I ask you to sacrifice the life you have now when this is enough?"

"BECAUSE IT SHOULDN'T BE ENOUGH FOR YOU!" Neville took a step back at Graces' outburst and tried to erase the image of his mother's outbursts from his mind. This was not the same, it wasn't. But as he watched Graces fold her arms around herself, digging her fingers into her own skin he realized it was along the same path. And the question of how she could stab herself in the stomach eddied in his mind. "I'm not enough."

"Graces," he murmured gently, moving closer like he was approaching a wild animal. "Graces, come here. Talk to me. What's going on?"

Graces backed away toward the wall and held herself tighter. Neville tried to rationalize Graces' distress, tried to tell himself that she was tired and exhausted, but the more he tried to rationalize it the more he realized how unstable she really was.

"I told my mother about us."

"You did what?" Neville asked, his mind now turning directions to a new set of problems.

"I didn't tell her everything, just enough."

Neville turned away and ran his hands through his hair. His heart was pulsing so fast he felt dizzy. What was 'just enough?'

"She doesn't know it's you," Graces continued, apparently sensing Neville's own fear.

"What does she know?" Neville pressed, turning back around.

"Enough to remind me that I will be disowned. That I will never be seen by my brother and father again. Enough to tell me she will always love me, but I will have to live without her if I choose this." Neville could hear her heart cracking at the memory of those words. "She said I had to choose."

"You. Do. Not." Neville stamped passionately.

"This is not enough for you, Neville," Graces murmured tightly. "It's not. You deserve so much more than this. You should be loved. You should have a person that loves you so much they stand by your side no matter what the cost. You said that you had an idea of what kind of life you wanted for me once, well, I have an idea of what kind of life I want for you. And it's so much more than this. You may be willing to accept this for yourself, but I'm not willing to allow you to."

Neville swallowed the lump building in his throat. "What does this mean? Are you leaving me?"

Graces looked up, her face soaked with tears. "No," Graces said finally, closing her eyes and turning her head away. "At least not now. I meant what I said Neville, I want to find out if—if this is love. And if it is, if it's real, I'm going to choose," she continued her voice breaking on the last word.

"I don't understand."

Graces angrily wiped her eyes and looked up at him. "If I love you, Neville, I am going to be with you." She couldn't be saying what he thought she was saying. Neville stood there trying to decipher other meanings to those words. "If I love you I am going to choose you."

"Graces, I don't want that. I—"

"You deserve that," Graces cut in. "You deserve that. If I love you then we should be together, it shouldn't just end."

"It doesn't have to be a choice, Graces. We can just continue like this, we—"

"For how long?" Graces asked miserably.

"I have faith in us," Neville said passionately. "I have faith that you and I can make this work. We can have floo networks that connect to our homes, you can come and go from my home as you please. You can come be with me every night and wake up next to me every morning. You can go about your day, have lunch with Draco, help raise Octavian, see your mother and have me."

"That's not right, Neville."

"What isn't right about it?" Neville demanded. "We get to be together and you still get to have your family."

"It's a lie. It's poison."

"Are you saying what we have now is toxic?"

"Oh, Neville, you know it is. It's seeping out into our lives, hurting everyone around us. It's hurting you and me too. This isn't healthy. It isn't right. I can't do this for the rest of my life, I can't do this for years even. Draco and I are strangers and every morning when I look in the mirror I don't know who is staring back at me!"

"I need to make a choice, Neville. For my sanity I need to make a choice. I need to know who I am again! I can't lead this double life. I need to choose."

"It's your family," Neville reminded. "You love your family more than anything. You think you don't know who you are now, what are you going to do when you're no longer a Malfoy? When your identity is ripped away from you? What will you do when you can never speak to Draco?"

"I don't know," Graces admitted weakly.

"I do," Neville said, his stance and jaw strong. "You will be miserable, and the love you held for me will not be enough. I will never be able to replace what you lost. I can't. It's impossible, because what you have is rare and precious. You know that. Don't throw that away."

Graces was silent for a while, before moving forward and kissing him softly. "You are rare and precious, Neville Longbottom. Love is rare and precious. I'm not going to rush my decision, but I will make one." Graces closed her eyes and took a breath. "If I choose you, Neville, I won't have anything. I'll have no gold, no name, no—"

"This is madness," Neville seethed, standing up and pacing the floor. "You don't have to choose. I am not asking you to choose! We can just go on like this, or at least go on like this until we graduate! We could—"

"I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" Graces screamed, standing up and balling her fists against her side. "This cannot go on, Neville. It can't. Now, I accept that you will not take the mark to be with me. I do; I accept that. But I cannot accept that this is it for us. I won't. If this is love I am not letting it go, and I will not destroy it because I am unwilling to sacrifice for it. So stop trying to tell me I don't have to choose, because I do! I have had to from the very beginning, the difference now is that I see you as a choice."

Neville didn't know what to say. He would be lying if he said that he didn't want this, but as he stood there thinking of what she would give up he found himself wanting to continue arguing.

"Do you not want to be with me like that?"

"Of course I do," he murmured weakly. "I just don't—Graces, I'm not worth that price."

Graces eyes shifted for a moment, before clearing her throat and moving towards him. "That's for me to decide," she whispered gently, putting a hand on his cheek. "I won't make this decision lightly, Neville. If I choose you it will not only be because I love you, it will be because I can't imagine living without you."

"Which brings me to this." She paused for a moment, swallowing some of her own fear. "You said before that-that you weren't ready to be husband and—"

"I'm not," Neville blurted, hoping this wasn't going to where he was thinking. "It doesn't mean I don't want it for someday, but now is—"

Graces held up her hand. "That's fine, Neville, but I need you to realize that I won't have anything. Not a single coin to my name. I won't even have my name. I won't be able to afford—"

"You will be taken care of," Neville broke in, cupping her face in his palms so she was looking at him. "Everything that is mine will be yours." He was so happy, he felt as though his heart would burst from his chest. He wanted to say stupid idiotic things, but held himself back. "And we will eventually get to the point of marriage, Graces. Just—" Neville shrugged, unsure of how to explain himself "—give me time and take your time," he added. "I don't need a decision anytime soon and you don't need to make one quickly. You can change your mind, Graces. If you don't want to do this you don't have to. If you find you love me, but can't give up everything then—"

"Then we will talk about it," Graces broke in, a small smile touching her lips, before it turned sad again. "I won't be able to stay here if I choose you. I'll have to leave."

"Leave?" Neville asked.

"Leave Hogwarts." Neville frowned and waited for an explanation. "I can't stay here if I choose you. I can't. There are things I still can't tell you, Neville. I want to, but I can't. It won't be safe here for me, I'll—"

" _We_ will leave." He could imagine the hell his gran would give him if he left without finishing his education, but in this moment he didn't care. A life with Graces seemed worth the price. She was giving up so much for him, he could give things up as well. They could go to another school, or he could bite the bullet and sell some property to hire private teachers, he didn't care about the cost. He would do it. And judging by the look on Graces face she hadn't expected that he would leave with her.

"You take all the time you need to figure out if you love me, but I don't need time. I love you." He took her hand and for the first time he realized that he may never have to let it go. "And while I would like nothing more than to have you by my side, Graces, I don't need you to be. So remember when you are deciding that your love would be enough. I don't need your life."


	91. Chapter 91

Today was the second day that Graces Malfoy was out of the the hospital wing and even if Harry wanted to ignore the Malfoy twins he would not have been able to. The whole school was whispering Graces' name. No one was discussing anything else. The only people not discussing Graces were Neville, Hagrid and—oddly—Hermione, who had taken to not speaking at all about the subject. Harry had tried to talk to her about Neville, but when he had she'd only cried and said that he needed to get on better terms with him. When Harry had mentioned confronting Neville about his relationship with Graces she had just continued her sobbing and said she agreed there was something, but she couldn't speak about it any longer.

Harry knew that Hermione and Neville's relationship had suddenly become strained, but again it was another topic she refused to discuss. He wished she would though; she seemed tortured by whatever argument they had. Ron was even beginning to grow upset with Neville, wanting him to at least let Hermione try to apologize, but Neville didn't seem to want to talk to anyone these days.

Harry stared at the map, watching as Graces and her brother sat in the Slytherin common room. They had done the same thing Saturday, both she and her brother stayed in the Slytherin dungeons, never moving outside of its walls. His gaze flicked to Neville sitting in the corner writing. The other boy must have felt his stare, because he looked up and met Harry's eyes with so much hatred that Harry was the first to look away. He had thought that Neville would have run to be with her upon her release yesterday, but the other boy had been smarter than that. Neville must have known that Harry would be watching, so he was keeping his distance. Harry idly wondered if somehow he had told Graces to do the same.

He was about to put the map away and actually study when he noticed Graces leaving the Slytherin dorm. He watched as she went through the halls with Graham Montague at her side, and just as he watched the two of them enter the library he decided to go as well. He stood up from where he was sitting and hastily began packing his things as though there were a possibility that Neville would see his plan and stop him. For the first time in a week he felt he had a plan. Maybe it wasn't the most elegant of plans, but it was better than nothing.

He made sure to keep his footsteps quiet as he weaved his way through the bookcases. His heart was pounding as he heard Graces and Graham speaking softly, tucked away in a far corner. Series of bookshelves surrounding them kept their conversation private. He wasn't sure what was being said, but it was clear from the way Graces dipped her head into the other boy's shoulder and how Graham's armed looped around her it was personal. He stared at them from behind a bookcase and for the first time felt as though he may be wrong.

Graces looked... pitiful. Her eye was covered by a black patch which would have been comical to Harry, like she was a pirate, if her whole demeanor didn't look so utterly broken.

"I'll read to you," Graham offered, looking at the books on the table for Graces' classes. "If you stop moping I'll even read one of those sappy veela novels you and Pansy read."

That won him a sad smile. "You would?"

"I would," Graham grinned, taking out one of those books and waving it in the air. "But mostly because I would rather enjoy seeing you squirm as I read things like chiseled chest and velvety cl—" Graham stopped short of finishing the sentence, stared at the passage for a moment before blushing himself, and snapped the book shut. "I retract my earlier offer."

Graces actually laughed at this, and for a moment Harry saw the girl Neville said he loved.

"You should not fill your head with such smut," Graham deadpanned, pushing the book further away from him as if he could catch that kind of foolish thinking. Graces gave a tired smile and went back to her thoughts. "No wonder you all have unreal expectations of romance."

"Graham," Graces murmured, her hand resting on his arm. "I know you're mad at me. You don't have to do this."

Harry watched as Graham's jaw tightened. "I shouldn't have yelled at you the way I did. You had just woken up. I should never had said those things to you. That was wrong."

"Did you mean it?" Graces asked quietly.

Graham let out a slow breath and closed his eyes. "At the time."

"And now?"

"I just want you to get better," he said quietly. "Back to how you were before."

"I'll never be what I was before."

Graham looked at her patched eye for a moment before looking away. "What I said wasn't fair," he repeated again, pretending he hadn't heard what she said. Or maybe he just agreed and didn't want to lie to her.

"It was the truth," Graces said hollowly. "I am stupid and selfish."

"I think your eye is proof enough that you are far from selfish. I had no right to call you that." Graham stared down at the table. "Draco will never forgive me."

"He will. He really already has, he's just making you feel bad." Graces was silent for a few moments. "I think he wanted to say all those things himself, but couldn't bring himself to."

Graham was silent for a long time, staring beyond the books laid out on the table at nothing. "Maybe he did, but if he did, then, like me, he doesn't truly mean it. I was just—" Graham paused for a moment. "—mad. If I'm being very honest, mad and scared."

Harry watched Graces as her one eye examined the boy beside her. "Scared for me, or for Draco?"

"Is there a difference?"

"You of all people know there is."

"No, there isn't. I knew the moment I heard the news that if you didn't pull through, Draco wouldn't pull through." Graham turned to look at her. "You almost killed your brother. That's why I yelled at you. That's why I said you were selfish and stupid. You almost killed Draco."

Graces looked away before mumbling that she knew.

"You know I care about you," Graham said quietly. "I do, don't think that I don't, but-"

"But you care for Draco more," Graces finished. "He's more of your friend than me. I knew that already."

Harry tried to piece together the conversation, but knew that it ran deeper than he could see. Graham still had a hard, unforgiving look to him, but in an odd way it was softened. Graces on the other hand looked far more broken than he had ever seen. She had the appearance of being well, her elegant fingers playing with a corner of the book idly as she sat tall in her chair, but the luster in her hair was dimmed, her collarbone far too pronounced and the soft rose that always graced her cheeks wasn't there.

_Damn the world for not paying attention as they sink away into hell._

Harry shook away Neville's words. He wanted to pity her, especially now, but he thought of everything that had happened, all the people who were already lost to this war. He couldn't afford to pity her.

"We should start," Graham sighed, picking up one of the bigger books. "I'll read the chapter and you can take notes. Then we will move on to—"

"When will Draco be done?"

"I don't know," Graham sighed. "Hopefully not long."

"You're nervous."

"As are you," Graham casually pointed out, opening the book and beginning to read.

Graces listened and took notes, but it was obvious she wasn't invested in the task. She kept glancing at Graham's watch and fidgeting. A few times she fiddled with the eye patch, never taking it off but touching it as though she needed reassurance that it was still there. Once or twice Graham had absently pulled her hand away from it, like a father silently correcting a said nothing about it, just continued on reading. When Graces reached up again he took her hand and didn't let go. So they sat there hand in hand as he read to her and she continued to try and concentrate enough to write.

Harry suddenly felt as though he were intruding on something and backed away. He left the library with a strong feeling of remorse. He tried to justify his actions, but couldn't seem to put himself at ease. Still, everything added up to Graces and Nott attacking that Ministry family together. How else could she have gotten so hurt? How else could she have lost her eye? He walked outside to get some fresh air as he vainly tried to piece everything he knew together.

He knew that Nott killed that Ministry official and his family. He knew Nott was found in the woods stabbed, and Graces was also found in those woods stabbed. Graces, however, had no charges brought up against her. Nott was already arrested and awaiting trial, but nothing seemed to be happening with Graces. He assumed it was because of lack of evidence, but Tonks wouldn't answer any of his letters regarding Graces and neither would Hagrid.

He only debated for a moment before heading over to Hagrid's hut. Fang was already barking wildly when he approached the door. Hagrid didn't answer his first knock, or his second or third, but eventually the half giant answered. Hagrid looked the same way he had when Buckbeak's trial had been going on. His eyes were shot, his tangled mane was somehow more wild and there was a scent of stale drink on him.

"Harry, what are yeh doin' here?"

"I, uh, I wanted to see how you were. You haven't been in the Great Hall, and your classes were canceled."

"I'm fine," Hagrid said gruffly. "Yeh better be on your way. I'm sure yeh have some studyin' to do."

He moved to close the door, but Harry caught it. Hagrid scowled, but didn't try to push the door further.

"You don't look fine," Harry said quietly.

"I 'ave a lot goin on right now," Hagrid admitted, shifting a bit uncomfortably. "But it's nothin' I can talk about with yeh."

"Why?"

"Harry," Hagrid said in warning. "You have to go."

"Whatever you're under investigation for I know it's not true," Harry said quickly before Hagrid could close the door. "I know whatever it is Malfoy is lying about. Just talk to me. Maybe I could help. Like Hermione did when Buckbeak was in trouble, or—"

Harry didn't get to finish his little speech as Hagrid burst into tears and began sobbing into a handkerchief that looked like it had seen better days. He waved Harry in and shut the door, pointing him in the direction of a chair and telling him between tears to sit down. Harry obeyed and Hagrid went to the stove to put on the kettle and pull himself together. As the kettle began to heat up, Hagrid moved to sit with Harry at the table.

"I should be under investigation," Hagrid stated, folding his hands in front of him like Dumbledore. "I did somethin' wrong and Graces Malfoy was hurt because of it. I am a professor at this school and I didn't do my duty in protectin' her. If she had died it would have been my fault. If she had died it woulda been a few people's fault, but much of that blood would have been on mine and Auror Tonks' hands. We are adults and we are responsible for her while she is under our care."

"What happened? Why was it your fault?"

"I can't tell yeh that."

"But what if it isn't your fault. What if—"

"Harry, it is my fault," Hagrid said tightly. "I know yeh want to protect me, but yeh can't. Yeh shouldn't. If I am sacked, I deserve to be."

Harry couldn't imagine a situation where Hagrid could have caused harm to Graces. There was no possible way this could be Hagrid's fault, unless Graces manipulated people into thinking it so. He was about to try and explain this to Hagrid when a soft knock at the door stopped him. Hagrid frowned at the door but went to answer it. Harry glanced out the window from where he sat and saw before Hagrid opened the door that Graces and Draco were the ones at the door.

Graces stood nervously in the front. She wore a dark green peacoat that went to her knees, and her hair and makeup were done up nicer than what he had seen in the library. She almost looked well standing there if it weren't for how hollow her cheeks were and for the patch on her eye. Draco looked much the same, standing in a black coat, his tie matching his sister's coat.

Hagrid said nothing as he stood looking at the two of them. Fang tried multiple times to move past him to go to the twins, but Hagrid didn't budge. Graces gave him a nervous smile and shifted the boxes she was holding to.

"Professor," Graces greeted, a small nod of her head and an uneasy glance towards Draco.

Hagrid didn't return the greeting, he did reach out though and brushed some of Graces' hair aside and looked down at the black patch masking her face. Graces awkwardly bore the touch and looked down for a moment. Harry couldn't hear what Hagrid asked, but Graces' response was gentle as she said that the injury occurred months ago.

There was another long silence. "Yeh two shouldn't be here. Not with the—"

"There is no longer an investigation," Draco interrupted. "Graces and I spoke with the headmistress and the school board this morning. You are free to resume your teaching position immediately."

Hagrid took a moment to piece that information together. During that time neither twin so much as fidgeted. They just stood on the porch quietly waiting for Hagrid to decide the direction in which the conversation was going to go.

"I'm sorry," Hagrid sniffed after a moment. "Won't you come in. It's freezing out here."

Graces took an awkward step forward, but Draco remained where he was. Graces looked at her brother, a silent question being asked between them, but Draco just shook his head and turned awkwardly away. She seemed to understand and gave Hagrid an apologetic look before walking through the door. Harry quickly looked away from the window and saw Graces enter. She didn't notice him until she stepped further into the hut.

They stared at eachother for a moment, before she turned away. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't realize you had company. I—"

"Harry was just leaving," Hagrid said pointedly.

"No, it's fine," Graces shook, obviously flustered. "I can't stay long anyways. I should go. I just just wanted to thank you and bring you these." She held out the parcels she was carrying for Hagrid to take, but the older man took a step back. Graces seemed taken aback by Hagrid's reaction, but she continued to hold out the gifts.

Hagrid looked at Harry for a moment, before moving closer to Graces. He didn't touch one package, but he stepped up close to the girl, bent down and was whispering something in her ear, something Graces clearly didn't agree with as her head shook in argument.

When Hagrid moved away Graces didn't say anything right away, she looked about the room as her cheeks turned a few shades pinker. "You helped me," she said quietly, holding the items out for Hagrid to take. "You were the only one that really did. Please accept."

"I can't."

Graces' throat bobbed and she placed one hand over Hagrid's as he tried to get her to take the gifts back. Harry had never seen Graces kind, never seen her as a girl that could have a tranquilness about her, and yet even as he sat there he was affected by her softness. "I insist."

Hagrid looked as though he would deny her again, but Graces gently pushed the items closer to his chest, her one eye looking up at him meaningfully. Hagrid swallowed some emotion and took the multiple packages.

"Please sit down," Hagrid implored, placing the packages on the table and gesturing to the open seat. "I just made a fresh pot of tea. Have some cauldron cakes too."

Graces stared at the seat and for a moment Harry wondered if she would, he began to mentally prepare himself for tea with Malfoy, but in the end she declined. "I wish I could. Truly I do." She gave Hagrid a small tender smile, before backing towards the door. "Take care, Professor."

But she was already gone. The moment she opened the door Draco's hand was on her lower back, briskly leading her away. Harry saw her turn back once to look at Hagrid before she quickly turned her head back forward. Hagrid looked as though he were going to burst into tears watching her go, but instead he turned to the table and started opening the packages Graces left him with. He opened one of the envelopes first and stood there reading it for a long time, before wiping away some overly large tears and setting the letter down.

Harry caught a glimpse through the paper and was surprised when he saw it was Draco's neat signature at the bottom, and not Graces'.

"Draco wrote you a letter?" He scowled. Hagrid nodded and began opening one of the boxes. "What did it say?"

Hagrid swallowed. "It says he was sorry for what happened third year and that he went to the Ministry and told the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures that he lied about Buckbeak. The Department is goin' to be in touch with me very soon to retract Buckbeak's sentence." Hagrid took another steadying breath before continuing. "He has also hired a solicitor that will be seein' to it that I get an apology from the Ministry for snapping my wand when I was a boy, and that this barrister will not stop until they-they reinstate my standing as a wizard as they should have done years ago when it was found out I was not the cause of that girl's death."

"Why would he do that?" Harry asked, frowning at the letter folded up on the table.

"Clearly, he feels badly."

"Malfoy wouldn't feel badly about that," Harry murmured, his mind racing for the real reason. "Do-do you think it's a bribe?"

Hagrid stilled, and looked down at Harry from where he was standing. "What would he be bribing me for?"

Harry stumbled for an answered. "I don't know, maybe to keep you quiet about what happened the night they found her and Nott in the forest?"

Hagrid's eyes darkened. "What do yeh think yeh know about what happened that night?"

Harry shrugged, his insides twisting as Hagrid looked down on him with disapproval. "I was hoping maybe you could tell me. There's all these rumors going around the school and—"

"What kind of rumors?" Hagrid demanded.

Harry paused and the anger in his words. "That she and Nott both were involved in that Ministry attack and that—"

"Whatever yer hearing around this school is not true. Yeh, of all people, should know better than to mind any gossip." There was no warmth in the older man's voice and Harry fidgeted in his seat, unable to bring himself to argue with Hagrid. "I want yeh to leave the Malfoys alone, Harry. Stop stickin' yer nose in their business. Stop making them out to be some villains in a story. That goes double for Graces Malfoy. Yeh leave that girl completely alone, Harry, or I will give you detention for the rest of the school year. You hear me?"

Harry was going to argue, but before he could Hagrid was dismissing him and ushering him to the door. "Go back to school, Harry. Be a good lad and study. Forget all this with the Malfoys. I mean it now, yeh hear? I have things to do."

Harry left Hagrid's hut more confused than he had been at the beginning of the day. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was wrong about this like he had been all those years about Snape. But he couldn't ignore the part of him that asked, what if you're not?

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Dinner had been harder than she thought it would be. She knew there were going to be stares and whispers, but she didn't realize how much it was going to affect her. Multiple times during dinner she had looked over to the Gryffindor table to try and catch Neville's eye. But the Gryffindor had become better about not looking her way during meals. She was relieved when dinner was finally over and she could leave.

"You know I'm not a healer, but I'm pretty sure eating helps promote healing," Graham said coldly as they walked through the halls to meet her brother. Draco had skipped dinner, insisting he needed to work more.

"I think you should focus on the person not attending meals rather than the one who does," Graces pointed out bitterly. Her mind already to later in the night when she will get to be with Neville.

"Your brother eats a late dinner with me every night when we finish working. I call a house elf from my home and we eat before going to bed."

"You make this sound so quaint. It's a different version hearing it from Draco."

Graham scowled. "What does he say?"

"That you force feed him bread and other heavy foods then proceed to tell him how scrawny he looks."

Graham rolled his eyes. "He is scrawny."

"Malfoy!" Graces turned to see Harry Potter himself stalking towards where her and Graham were walking to meet her brother. She stiffened at the dark look in the other boy's eye and she actually took a step back out of fear, wondering for a moment if Potter was going to curse her. Graham moved forward apparently thinking the same thing. Harry glanced at Graham but didn't alter his course as he moved close to her. "I want to know exactly what you think you are doing with Neville."

She could feel the blood draining from her face at the question and looked up briefly at Graham to see a glimmer of fury in his eyes.

"Nothing," she said quietly, her stomach turning. She knew she needed to be more confident, more scathing, but she felt so sick that just the effort of that one word was too much.

"Liar," Harry glowered. "I know you two are together."

"You know?" Graham cut in coldly. Harry looked like he was about to repeat that he did, but Graham continued. "Careful what you say right now, Potter. Her life depends on it."

Harry faltered and Graham smirked. "Did you know Graces and I are soon to be engaged?" Graham asked casually, turning from Harry and staring down at her. He moved a piece of her hair that was by her neck and gently brushed the skin with his knuckles causing her to shiver. "I've been discussing the engagement with her brother for months. It's an arrangement that would be very beneficial to their family."

"You might want to rethink that considering she's shagging another bloke."

Graham hummed an agreement and took his hand away looking down into Graces' gray eyes. She could tell what he was thinking. Stupid girl.

"Did you know that just the rumor of Graces' sleeping with a blood traitor would end our engagement? Even if it wasn't true. I would end it because I would never want to tie myself to such scandal. Not in times like this, not when I have my family to think of. I would end it and never so much as look at her again."

"Graham—" Graces pleaded, her lips wobbling.

"Her brother would have to seriously consider disowning her. He may be forced to if the rumors get out of hand. And if it's true." Graham stopped looking at Graces and turned to Harry, who was watching where Graham's hand had left her neck. "Do you know what an honor killing is, Potter?"

Harry shook his head and took a step back uncomfortably.

"It's when you kill a family member for bringing shame or dishonor upon the family."

"You wouldn't kill her," Harry said slowly, clearly unsure if what he was saying was the truth.

"I wouldn't have to," Graham stated coldly. "Draco would. He would have no choice in the matter. Killing her would be the kind thing to do if she had done something so shameful." His lip curled and he looked back and gave Graces a look she hoped to never see on his face again. "If she slept with Longbottom she ruined herself and her family. They would be in such disgrace that they would be open to any kind of attack. If Draco didn't kill her someone else in the community would and they may kill him as well for being so spineless." Graces made a hiccuping sound and turned away to not cry.

"That can't be legal," Harry shot, clearly thinking this was a ploy.

"It's not hard to make something look like an accident. Families do it all the time." Graham deadpanned. "So I am going to ask you again, Potter, how sure are you that this is true?"

Graces looked over at Harry beseeching him through her tears to say he wasn't sure. To say anything but the truth. Their eyes met for what felt like hours before Harry shook his head.

"I-I'm not sure."

"You seemed very sure a moment ago," Graham said slowly. "What was it that had made you so sure?"

Harry's mouth twisted. "I don't know."

"Come on, Potter surely there was something. Maybe a note you found, a glance in the hall, maybe you found her with her knickers down sprawled out—"

"Graham!"

Graham turned and looked at her, his eyes burning with rage. Graces squared her jaw. She knew this to be a facade, but there was serious anger in the boy in front of her.

"No, nothing like that," Harry maintained, looking between the two Slytherins. "I-I just had a feeling. It was just a feeling."

Both Slytherins knew this to be a lie, but Graham was willing to accept it.

"Keep your feelings where they belong, Potter. To yourself."

Graces let out a small gasp as Graham grabbed her arm and he sped down the hall with her in tow. She looked up at him a few times to see him almost purple in the face. She knew better than to say anything until he took her to wherever it was he wanted to talk.

"Is it still over?" he demanded when they reached an old abandoned hall.

Graces nodded allowing a few tears to fall.

"Graces, I want the truth."

She knew better than to give it. "It is. You saw," she sniffed. "He chose others over me. I can't forgive that."

Graham nodded and let out a sigh. "I hope it was worth it."

Graces bit her lip and wondered what made Harry do all this. Surely he must know something to approach her in such a manner. She tried to remember her encounter with him earlier. He had been suspicious of her, but—

"Was it?"

Graces looked up from her thoughts. "What?"

"Was it worth it. Your time with Longbottom. If you could go back in time and never do all those things would you?"

He wasn't asking out of spite. It was clearly written all over his face. He was asking for himself.

"I wouldn't allow one memory of mine and Neville's time to be taken from me. Not one wisp of memory."

"Even now, when it hurts like this?"

"Even now."

Graham seemed to be considering her words. She knew that she should say nothing and let it be, but something whispered to her. Something deep in her heart told her to damn pureblood pretense.

"This isn't who I want to be," she finally said, biting her lip and telling herself to continue. "If the world was less dangerous I would be someone else I think, someone better, the kind of person who could question and stand by their opinion. But I don't live in a world like that. I live in this world that won't allow me and Neville to be together without too great a cost. Even though I couldn't have Neville in the end, I at least had him as a part of my life. No one can take that from me. One day maybe I will pay for it, but I have that knowledge that he was a part of my life. He holds a part of me and I a part of him."

Graham said nothing to that, but she could tell he thought what she said to be very foolish.

"Think me stupid, but I won't spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been. I won't look for Neville in others', because I know that he won't be there. You will live to regret not telling Wamil your feelings, Graham Montague."

"And you will live to regret acting on yours."

"Is that a threat?" Graces asked.

"No," Graham sighed heavily. "I just can't see how you wouldn't."

Graces tried not to think too much about what it all meant. If she thought too much about what could happen her fear would eat her up. She wasn't brave, she knew this to be true. She didn't want to face real consequences for her decisions. She wanted to choose, but she didn't want to be found out. She wanted to choose on her own terms. She was cunning. She would play this game until she reached a decision and when she reached that decision if it was to be with Neville she would run. They would run. She wouldn't be caught and killed. She would run.

"Do you think Potter will talk?" Graham finally said after a moment.

"Let me worry about that."

"What are you going to do?"

Graces took a deep breath. "I'm going to tell him the truth."

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Harry stood outside the classroom door where Graces had told him to meet her, her wand and letter clutched in his hand. He had never heard of a witch or wizard freely giving someone their wand before. If she hadn't sent it with her letter asking to meet he may have not accepted her invitation. There was something calming about knowing that she was unarmed while he was. Part of him wondered if this was a trap, but when those thoughts invaded he remembered the desperation in her eyes when he confronted her in front of Graham. He took another big breath before opening the door.

She was alone, as promised, and standing across the room near a window as though she had been looking out it from some time. She didn't move towards him as he entered and put both their wands in the corner. She seemed frozen, her hand was tight around a necklace that ran down to her chest. Harry admired for a moment how the gold of the chain glinted in the moonlight. Her breath was airy as she stood there looking at him, her face openly telling him her pain, her worry, her fear. "How did you find out?" she asked tightly.

"It just all added up to it. It was obvious once I really sat down and thought about it."

Her lip trembled, but she spoke no words of denial. "Have you told anyone?"

"No."

"Will you tell anyone?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On how this conversation goes."

Graces closed her eye and a tear rolled down her face. A tear she quickly wiped away. "We don't exactly have a history of well mannered conversations."

"No we don't. I suggest you answer me honestly and keep your temper in check." He regretted the bitter words the moment they left his lips. It felt wrong to be so cruel when she looked so beaten. "And I will do the same," he added, gentler than before.

She nodded, but didn't open her eye as she stood there fighting her tears. He let her get a hold of herself and waited awkwardly for her to look up at him. "I want to know what happened the night Neville took my invisibility cloak, the same night that you and Nott were in the hospital wing."

Graces chewed on her lip and turned away from him. "There's nothing to tell. It had nothing to do with you."

"Any part of this war has something to do with me."

"It was not a part of this war."

"Liar," Harry growled. "I know about the Ministry official that was killed, the one Nott killed. Don't tell me you had nothing to do with that, Malfoy. I'm not stupid. Now are you going to tell me what happened that night or should I write to Skeeter and tell her how Graces Malfoy is in bed with Neville Longbottom?"

Graces made some noise that closely resembled a sob and covered her mouth. He watched her as her shoulders hunched over and she shook from tears. He didn't falter in his interrogation though, wouldn't let her tears stop him from getting to the bottom of everything. Graces tried to move away from him as he demanded answers, but he followed her relentlessly.

"Potter, get away from me! Seriously, get away from me!" Graces screamed, turning around and facing him so he could see the blood leaking from her patch. Harry backed away and Graces hid her face as she took off the patch and then took out a curved shell like piece of glass. Harry realized that what he was looking at was her glass eye, it seemed more like a contact almost, it wasn't round like Moody's. He stared at the perfectly matched eye just laying on the desk. It looked real as it stared out at him, the coloring, the pupil in the middle, it matched Graces' real eye almost perfectly. He cringed as he noticed the blood around it and looked up at Graces hunched over trying to stop the bleeding coming from her eye. Or where her eye was supposed to be. Now there was no eye, just angry skin stitched together in a hemisphere-like state. Her eyelids closed around the flesh and gauze she kept dabbing it with. Harry's stomach turned.

"Do you need to go to the hospital wing?"

"No."

"You're bleeding."

Graces swallowed. "It's normal."

"It doesn't look normal."

Graces' stopped dabbing her eye and glared at him, her face balled up evil as she silently dared him to say more. He looked away, the sight of her missing eye too much for him. She scoffed and picked up her fake eye from the table, carefully putting it back in place. The iris of her eye looked around madly in it's socket, so perfectly like her real one only with clearly no control. Graces put the patch back on and stood there with her hand on the black cloth, as though she could will the eye calm.

"It- it looks real... Once it's in." She said nothing, just stood. "It really does," Harry said quietly. "If it didn't move in that way then-"

"It won't continue to move like that," Graces broke in.

Harry nodded awkwardly. "Can you—is it magical? Does it have abilities?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Harry opened his mouth, but stopped short. This felt wrong. It all felt wrong. "Did you lose your eye that night?"

"I lost my eye months ago. I just didn't tell anyone," she said hollowly, looking far away.

"How?" When she didn't answer he pressed again, but made his tone gentle. "Montague said that your eye is proof you're not selfish. What did he mean by that?"

Graces looked away from whatever far off nightmares she was visiting. "You were spying on me?"

"I need answers. Malfoy?"

"How dare you! I should—"

"Careful, Malfoy. Remember why you agreed to talk to me, remember we are supposed to be civil."

Graces bared her teeth but swallowed whatever she was about to say. She was breathing as though she had just run five miles, but her face was sallow. "My eye was the cost for Thomas and Octavian's life. You don't need to know any more than that."

"That makes no sense. You have to give me more, explain—"

"No, I don't," Graces snapped. "It has no bearing on you in this war. None."

"Did Voldemort do it?"

Harry noted the flinch at the name before Graces spoke. "I'm going to make you a deal, Potter. I will tell you anything you need to know about me and Neville and that night, but I will not tell you anything else."

"You're going to tell me everything, Malfoy. I'm the one that has something on you."

Graces' jaw tightened. "Neville thinks highly of you," she began, her voice cold like her father's. Challenging almost. "He believes you are the type of person that will always do what's right. I'm going to believe that for the hour or so we are here. And I'm going to believe that after we talk you will keep mine and Neville's relationship a secret."

Harry didn't know what to say.

"I didn't harm any Ministry official. I'm not a Death Eater. I was in those woods that night to stop Neville from killing Nott."

"Why would Neville want to kill Nott? Did he know about the attack on the Min—"

"Nott attacked me," Graces cut in quietly. "And Neville... he—I don't know." She shook her head as though she could will the memories away. "I've never seen him like that."

"Why did Nott attack you?" Harry pressed. "Was he trying to get you to join as a Death Eater? Or was—"

"It wasn't that kind of attack," Graces muttered tightly.

"Then what kind of—" Harry stopped short. Suddenly the conversation he had with Neville regarding her was blasting full volume in his mind. Neville had begged him to put aside what he thought of her, what he expected her to be and just think of her as what she was in front of him. And looking at her now he suddenly saw very clearly what happened that night. A girl was hurt in the forest by her ex-boyfriend. One was going to azkaban the other was returning to classes, looking broken. Harry suddenly began to feel very sick and was glad Graces wasn't looking at him.

"I-I'm sorry." The words sounded lame, as though there were words out there he should say and settled for the most basic. He stood there trying to think of what he was supposed to say to something like that, and just ended up repeating the same thing.

"He didn't succeed," Graces continued. "I would like to say that I outsmarted him, that I was a stronger witch and defended myself," Graces muttered, all her self loathing coming to a head. "But I can't. I was just lucky. The thestrals saved me, they stampeded in the barn. Nott fled and Professor Hagrid found me. I insisted all the injury came from the thestrals, but he knew better."

"Why didn't you tell anyone? Tell Dumbledore, or—"

"You have no idea what that kind of violation is like," Graces hissed. "So please do not stand there and question my actions. Don't tell me how stupid I was for not telling someone. Do you know how hard this is for me? Standing here and telling you. It killed me to tell Neville, someone I trust. You can't imagine what this feels like, I feel like I'm being violated all over again."

"You said he didn't succeed."

Graces swallowed. "He didn't succeed in rape."

The word alone made the world stop around him. Harry stood there in the room and pushed the imagery that word evoked away. He didn't succeed, but he hurt her still. He wondered what he had done. Harry had been tortured, bullied, abused, but never had something like that been used against him. "You don't have to tell me about that," Harry offered.

"I wasn't going to," Graces said darkly, holding herself closer.

"So you stabbed Nott? And he stabbed you?"

"I stabbed myself."

Harry's throat went dry.

Graces shook her head petulantly. "I brewed this potion. It makes Nott feel all that I feel, whatever my body endures so will his."

"I wasn't planning on using it. I realized how stupid it would be to use it, but then-then I told Neville what happened. He—" she stopped and seemed to try to piece together what had occurred. "I don't ever want to see him like that again. He was going to kill Nott. He didn't even tell me what he was going to do. I woke up and he was gone. He left me this note and the next thing I knew I was running to try and stop him, but I was too late. When I found him he had stabbed him."

Harry now understood why Neville asked for his cloak, for his map. Neville had looked odd to him at the time, Harry remembered wondering if he was sick, but he didn't push him for answers. Now he wished he would have. He wished he would have done a lot of things better in regards to his friend.

"So I stabbed myself, in the exact same spot. Knowing it would inflict the same wound. If someone was going to be in trouble for killing Theodore Nott is was going to be me. Everyone thinks I did it because I wanted to die. That Nott had driven me to wanting an end. But I didn't want to die. I stabbed myself with intent and the intent was not to die. My cousin was also there that night that Hagrid found me in the barn. I knew where her post was at the school. After I stabbed myself I went to her. I figured an Auror should know what to do, and if I gave her my confession as a witness to my being hurt the other night, it would ensure Neville was never to blame. That's why she and Hagrid are under investigation. Because they knew what happened that night and didn't report it."

Graces gave a sad smile. "They did the best thing for me though. I needed to have control at that time, and they gave it to me. I would have broken if they hadn't. They're the only adults at this school I feel I can trust. The school board blames them for my stabbing myself; they think if they would have told people I wouldn't have done it."

"Why did you? I mean, I still don't understand why you did."

"Because Neville isn't a killer. I wasn't going to let him become one, and I certainly wasn't going to allow him to rot away in Azkaban."

Harry was trying to process what she was saying, what that meant. He felt like there was a lot more to this story, but he also felt like he didn't need to know it. It was a violation to ask now, now that he knew it had nothing to do with him.

"What are you doing with Neville?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit. You know, so answer me."

"I really don't," Graces sighed, shaking her head. "At first it was just physical and—"

"Physical? As in sexual?"

"Typically when someone says they had a relationship with someone that is just physical yes they mean it only had a sexual nature."

"You were using Neville for sex," Harry said slowly, as though he must be missing something.

"You're a piece of work. You see him as just this clumsy pathetic fool. He fought with you, was tortured for you, was willing to give his life for you and you sit there surprised that someone would want to invite him to their bed. Just because you can't see him doesn't mean all of us can't."

"That's not fair! You and your brother have picked on Neville for years! Don't be surprised that I'm here wanting to stop you from using him like a pawn and probably leading him down a path that will get him killed. You were the one that used to call him a fat crybaby, that laughed and played monkey in the middle with his remembrall, that made fun of him in potions, that was cruel to him when he asked you out-"

"That was for show."

"Was it all for show?" Graces pursed her lips. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"I'm not the one who pretends to be his friend."

"I am his friend."

"Then act like it!" Graces snapped.

Harry fell silent. He knew that on so many levels she was right.

"You're standing here pretending to care about him, but you don't. Not really. Tell me, Harry, what kind of life do you want for Neville? Have you ever even thought about it? I have. To you Neville is just there. He's good for a few board games here and there, or to get help with Herbology. Maybe to you he's a good soldier. But will you be inviting him to your home on Christmas when you get older? Do you remember to send him a birthday gift or card? Did you ever realize that when his gran and great uncle die he will be left alone? If you don't do it, who will?"

"There is only one person in this room that will use Neville like a pawn, that will get him killed, and it's not me, Potter. I want nothing but to give him a life, to build a life with him where we will be happy and content. Can you say the same? Or will he be another body for you to climb over on your way to victory?"

"Do you think I want people to die for me?" Harry snarled.

"It doesn't change the fact that they do and that they will," Graces said coldly. "People around you die. That's just how it is." She used her words as weapons, and she had just shattered his shield leaving him vulnerable. "Neville Longbottom should not die for you, not when you don't even see his worth."

"And you do?"

"I do more than you. You're here to see if Neville is betraying you, and he isn't."

"He's sleeping with you."

"Who Neville decides to bring to his bed is none of your business," Graces snarled. "And it's most certainly not a betrayal to get laid."

"He lied about it. He—"

"He lied to protect me. He lied so I wouldn't be disowned, and he lied because he's the type of guy that doesn't see me as some conquest. He didn't tell you because what we do when we're alone is private."

Harry could understand that. He could understand all of that, but still something was eating at him. "You never asked him for information on me? Never tried to coax him into switching sides?" he asked quietly, willing to believe her at this point if she said she had not.

Graces chewed the inside of her cheek as though debating if she should answer the question and his stomach dropped.

"I did ask him to change sides," she admitted. "He refused. I begged him, literally begged him. I told him that if he switched sides we could be together, out in the open. That we could have a future me and him, marriage, children." She paused as though the memory physically pained her. He wanted to point at her and say he knew it, but he couldn't say anything when she looked so sad, so broken. "Do you have any idea what a marriage to me would have given him? Respect, power, wealth. And that's without mentioning how much he loves me, how much joy it would bring him to have a family. A whole and complete family, he would even have a brother through Draco." Her face twisted with emotion. "You will never be able to offer him the things I could." She said the last part as an accusation.

"And still he said no. He picked you," she said venomously. "Even when I threatened to end things, he refused."

"You asked him to be a Death Eater? A Death Eater?"

"What does it matter? He said no. The life I offered him is far better than the one you do, and the gods know that it's your side that is riddled with the dead, but still he chose you. When I told him he would die for you and this stupid war he maintained some things are worth dying for." Tears were streaming down her face. "Neville should not die in this war. Not Neville. Not my Neville. And certainly not for you who doesn't even appreciate him. He-he's not made for this. The whole world is going to protect you, the Chosen One, the leader. Who will protect Neville? Who?" she demanded. "You? You didn't even give my father the prophecy when Neville was being tortured for you. You were going to let him die to keep it from the Dark Lord!"

The blood was now seeping out of her eye patch again, but she didn't seem to care as she continued to cry. She cried as if Neville were already dead, as if he was killed in this war already and she was going to have to watch him be buried in the ground.

"That's not true," Harry whispered, looking away. "After-after what your aunt did, after seeing Neville," he stopped and tried to bury the memory of his screams. "There was no choice. I held the prophecy out for your father to take. I-I wasn't going to let Neville die, I wasn't going to let your aunt torture him."

"What?" Graces breathed, her tears subsiding as she goggled at him. "My aunt said—"

"Your aunt lied," Harry said flatly. "I could show you the memory. I held the prophesy out." There was a stunned silence. "And when the Aurors came and the battle began, I dodged spells and bodies and made my way to where Neville was and made sure he was okay. Then we tried to get away from the battle, and another Death Eater attacked me. He was choking me. Neville saved me, stabbed the guy in the eye with Hermione's wand."

Graces let out a sad little laugh, or maybe it was a cry, he didn't know. Her hand was over her mouth, and a moment later she made the same noise. Harry decided it was a mix of both and let out awkward laugh as well.

"I'm surprised he never told you those things," Harry snorted. "Seems like the kind of thing you tell to impress the girl you're dating."

Graces let out a real laugh at that. "I doubt he wants to remind me about that night considering my father was arrested then." Harry shrugged. "Not to mention Neville doesn't really brag."

"No I suppose not," Harry chuckled.

Graces was silent for a while. "I hate when you and Neville fight." Harry looked up a bit surprised.

"I would think you would like us to not be friends, considering."

"Then Neville wouldn't have friends," Graces scowled. "I don't want that. I don't want him to be lonely. When you two fight I worry about him. I think of him all alone through the day and it makes my stomach hurt with guilt. I know you two fight because of me."

Harry chewed his lip for a moment. "I think I can take most of the blame for me and Neville fighting."

Graces raised her brow in a way that was all Neville. The shock, the openness, it even had some rugged trait to it that he saw in Neville's face when he was working in the greenhouse.

"You know, Neville smirks like you sometimes."

"Does he?" Graces asked, dabbing her eye from left over tears. "How interesting."

"Yeah," Harry breathed. "You just looked like him for a moment. That thing you did with your brow. Usually when you do that it's, well it's very like you, I guess. But how you just did it, is very much like Neville."

Graces let out a dark breathy chuckle. "I do it like my father, which is a challenge, a dare, or an _interesting_ ," she said the last word slowly with mystery, as she raised her eyebrow in the same manner. She smiled after her little show. "Neville's facial expressions are always very genuine. He's very genuine."

Harry nodded, and debated whether he should ask the question gnawing at him. Graces seemed to have her defences down, but if he continued to pry would they stay that way?

"What do you two talk about?"

Graces looked up at him before raising her eyebrow in the manner he was accustomed to. "Who says we talk, Potter?" Harry blushed and looked away, deciding that his question was answered, but Graces laughed. "I'm kidding. We talk. We talk a lot. Neville would not have it any other way. I did try to keep him at arm's length, but you know Neville. Stubborn as a hippogriff."

"I have a hard time imagining what you two talk about," Harry said honestly.

Graces shrugged. "Quidditch, family, plants—"

"You enjoy that? Talking about plants?"

"Neville is very mindful of himself. He usually won't talk to you about subjects he thinks will bore you. Oftentimes when he is talking to me about a plant it's one he thinks I would take interest in. The other day he told me about a wizard in Nepal that is growing gravity resistant trees," Graces' voice had a hint of awe to it. "Isn't that fascinating?"

Harry twisted his mouth, Neville had tried to tell him about the trees as well, but he found nothing interesting in it. He was surprised that Graces did.

Graces scoffed. "My gods, Potter you really are thick. No wonder you're in Gryffindor. Gravity resistant trees... wood... brooms... quidditch!" Graces exclaimed, clearly irritated that she had to practically draw a map for Harry to understand.

"They could be used to make brooms," Harry gasped, now understanding why that should be fascinating to him. He now felt horrible that he had told Neville that he didn't care. Especially now that he knew that Neville was trying to tell him something specifically of interest to him.

"Exactly! Probably the fastest brooms imaginable! And they would be so light weight! I am in the process of convincing Neville to get in on this action. He should invest and offer land to this man, but he's being a prat and won't listen to sense. He just wants to teach." Graces rolled her eyes affectionately. "He needs grander ambitions if you ask me. I think he'll start coming around though. I mean, Neville is stubborn, but not when it comes to things like this. I can win out on this one. He just needs the confidence to pursue this."

"I don't know if you've noticed—" Graces grinned. "—but Neville's a bit quiet. He's not good at putting himself out there and if you're going to invest in a business you need to sell yourself a bit."

"Maybe you could do it for him," Harry suggested. "Make the offer for him or something."

"Are you just trying to prove that you don't belong at all in Ravenclaw?" Graces deadpanned. "Do I need to remind you again that no one can know I have so much as a friendship with Neville Longbottom?"

"Sorry, I'm not exactly used to the idea that you're Neville's girlfriend and it has to remain a secret forever lest there be dire consequences," Harry retorted sarcastically, shaking his head at the blond. "It's not everyday that I have a polite conversation with you, let alone one where we are discussing your pillow talk with one of my mates."

For a moment Harry thought she was going to stick her tongue out at him, but Graces just gave him a cool smile, as though she enjoyed his little outburst.

"Pillow talk," she repeated, a small giggle escaping her lips. Harry watched the way she smiled, and knew she was thinking of Neville. If he were watching a movie and saw a woman smile like that he would think she was mad over the bloke she was thinking of. She smiled like a woman in love.

"Do you love him?" Harry asked, taking a seat and watching her reaction to the question. Graces' smile disappeared.

"I don't know," Graces sighed, taking a seat as well, so that they were facing one another.

"You don't know," Harry repeated. "You're risking your life to be with him, but you don't know if you love him? You're going behind your family's back, but you still don't know what this is?" Graces said nothing, she chewed her lip and shrugged her shoulders. "It sounds like you love him."

"Maybe I do," Graces acknowledged. "But that's for me to figure out, and for me to tell him. Not you." She narrowed her eyes. "I mean it, Potter, don't you go telling Neville you think I love him. It's not for you to tell."

"Well, there goes my night. Now what am I to do if I can't go running over to Neville and giggling about how I think you're in love with him."

Graces actually laughed at his comment. She even slugged him playfully. Harry laughed quietly along with her, and for a moment he wondered what life would have been like if there was never a Voldemort, if people didn't care about blood status. _That's what we're fighting for._ The laughter dimmed and Graces seemed to be able to tell that he was deep in thought.

"Harry," Harry jumped at the sound of his name, and at Graces hand on his. "Don't tell anyone. Please. I understand if you don't care what happens to me, but Neville would be devastated. He would blame himself for my death. I never told him what the consequences were if we were found out, but he would think he should have known and count himself a fool for not knowing. Every moment he and I had together would be tarnished, because he would believe that those moments killed me, that in a way he killed me. So please don't tell anyone."

"Why would you not tell him?" Harry frowned.

Graces shrugged. "I don't know why I didn't in the beginning, maybe I didn't because despite how many times I tried to end things I didn't really want them to end. I know that's why I don't tell him now. Because if I told him he would end things. Neville wouldn't think he was worth that cost."

Harry looked at her hand around his. He began wondering about the two of them, what their relationship was like. He thought about how angry she was with him and how she softened once he told her he was going to give her father the prophecy, about how hurt she was under the surface, physically and mentally. He could see why Neville would be good for her, how she could lean on him. And he could see how she could be good for him. That fierce protectiveness and ruthlessness could be something wonderful for his friend.

"I'm not going to tell anyone about you two. No one. Your secret's safe." She let out a breath he hadn't realized she had been holding. "And I'm sorry," he added. "For spying on you, for grabbing your arm in the Great Hall." He flinched at the memory. "I deserved to be decked."

Graces looked at him for a long moment and then her hand grew tighter around his. "This is war, Harry. Don't forget who I am. At the end of the day I want mine to survive and if that means you need to die, so be it. I don't like it, I am not rejoicing in the thought of your death, but it is what it is. Don't forget that. When the time comes and it's between you and me, I'm not going to hesitate."

Harry frowned. "Why are you saying this? I thought that we were—that we—"

"So you don't hesitate." Graces smirked playfully.. "I want us to fight on fair ground."

"This isn't funny," Harry scowled.

Graces' smile dimmed. "No. No, It's not. Just remember. Don't think about this one time meeting and feel pity for me or feel like we're friends. Remember, this is war. Just take care of Neville. He will follow you into anything. Take care of him."

She stood up to leave. Harry watched her as she went to the corner and picked up her wand.

"Neville doesn't need to know about this conversation," she said quietly, turning and looking at him again. "It's better if he doesn't know that you know."

"Why not tell him about us talking? I think this went well."

"It's complicated, just keep this between us. Let all this be our little secret. All of it." Harry thought about everything she had told him and nodded. She smiled at him, the kind of smile she had given Hagrid, the quiet warmth and charm seeping out. "I'll see you around, scarhead."


	92. Chapter 92

Neville wondered if there was another word for how utterly exhausted he was. Surely this was beyond the normal realm of fatigue. He suppressed a yawn and went back to his homework. He was so far behind he didn't know if he was going to be able to catch up. Even with Graces out of the hospital wing, he couldn't seem to concentrate. His every thought was still entangled in that night. He knew there was something wrong, that even if she was healed physically, mentally was another matter entirely. He paused in his writing and once again wondered how she could have stabbed herself. What was so broken in her that she could do such things? What was so shattered that she wouldn't want to fix her eye?

"Are you not planning on sleeping tonight?"

Neville gritted his teeth at Harry's voice and then pretended to write something more on his paper. Harry's shadow continued to overtake his desk and Neville allowed the silence to drag on hoping the other boy would catch the hint. He realized it was a vain wish as Harry pulled up the seat across from him and awkwardly fidgeted with the edge of one of Neville's books.

"Who you love and choose to be with is none of my business," Harry said quietly, causing Neville to look up at him. "And I deserved it when you decked me earlier and I deserve your anger now. I never should have touched Malfoy." Harry was silent for a few moments. "And what I said the other night—" Harry continued, his voice hoarse, "—was unforgivable."

Neville swallowed and looked away. He didn't know where this was coming from, or why Harry was saying these things. If he was being honest he didn't know if he really trusted him when it came to Graces. He leaned back in his chair and met Harry's eyes for a long moment, holding them as he tried to evaluate the other boy's sincerity.

"Why such a change of heart?"

Harry looked away from his cold words, but Neville didn't budge. He felt like stone as he waited for an explanation.

"I don't think Malfoy hurt anyone," Harry mumbled, being obviously careful with his words. "And the more I think about it the more I think she may have been the victim in all this."

Neville swallowed as much of his anger as he could before he asked Harry if he had just been thinking or if he put his nose where it didn't belong and found out what happened. Harry's flushed face and shifting eyes told him the answer. Neville cursed and began to pack his things.

"Nev, please, stop."

"What did you find out?" Neville demanded, his essay due tomorrow now crumbled in his hand. Harry took a step back and opened his mouth just to shut it. "Answer me!"

"I-I know that Nott attacked her." Neville waited for more, his breath coming in and out of him like a raged bull. "Come on, Nev, I'm trying to apologize. Please—"

"What. Do. You. Know?"

Harry let out a shallow breath and licked his lips. "I saw Hagrid today and—he didn't tell me anything—but Graces came by with Draco to... to thank him. I started to piece things together from that."

"What exactly did you piece together?"

"Nev, please, I just want to make this right. I—"

"What did you piece together?" Neville demanded, looking up at the ceiling for a moment and praying silently for patience.

Harry was silent for a long time. "That Nott attacked her, and that the attack was because she is a girl."

Neville didn't let his face show a hint of recognition. He moved closer to Harry and pushed his rolled up paper into the other boy's chest.

"Nothing like that happened," Neville swore coldly. "So you better keep your damn theories to yourself, Potter."

Neville turned to leave, his hands shaking despite himself. He was going to go upstairs and pretend to sleep with the rest of the house until he could safely sneak out, but Harry's next words stopped him dead.

"You should just be with her!"

Neville stood frozen on the steps. "I think you're forgetting that it's not just up to me. She would have to want to have anything to do with me. And she very clearly doesn't."

"That's bullshit and you and I both know it. I'm not stupid, Neville. I know you two are together."

"You know nothing," Neville spat, turning and facing him. "Graces Malfoy wants nothing to do with me."

Harry shook his head. "I know I've been a git. That I've been unfair regarding you two, but I really want to understand now."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing is going on between me and Graces. She doesn't even see me. She-"

"You're lying," Harry stated flatly. "And I understand why you are, but I am trying to talk to you here, Nev. I am trying really hard to figure out a way to say that if you want to be with her be with her." Neville couldn't breath. He stared at the boy in front of him as though he were a ghost. "I don't have a choice in this war. You do and you have the option to be with the woman you love. And I won't think less of you if you chose to be with her, choose to stand by her side and try to protect her, then die for me."

There was a loud ring of silence that was echoing in Neville's ear at Harry's thought of everything that had happened last year, thought of the losses he had suffered because of the first war, growing up with no parents, his gran losing her only son. All the things that this war had caused seemed to just flood to his mind along with all the people that were going to die.

"Don't you ever ever give someone a choice like that," Neville said, moving closer to Harry. "Do you hear me? Not ever!" He was literally shaking, he could feel his chest vibrating beyond his control, but he continued to shout. "Because Hermione doesn't have a choice! Colin and Dennis Creevey don't have a choice! Dean and Seamus don't have a choice! The moment you tell people that this isn't their war,or that they can be neutral you're saying it's okay to step back and allow people like them to be killed. Do you understand that Harry? It is a privilege I have because of my heritage that makes it so I wouldn't have to choose a side. It's a privilege no one else who isn't a pureblood can do. And I don't want it, and no one should be allowed to use it. Neutral in this war is saying it's okay for others to die so long as yours can keep going. Don't give me an out, Harry, don't give one person an out, because you don't know what difference they could make in this war. Not choosing a side is still choosing a side."

"I am trying to be your friend! I am trying to support you! You love her don't you? She wants to be with you."

"No she doesn't she-"

"Stop lying to me, Neville! I'm not stupid! You two are together, and if you want to continue to argue with me on this I will show up in the midst of you two being together just to make you stop lying."

Neville didn't say a word, he glared hatefully at Harry.

"I want you to be happy. I want to be a better friend to you," Harry stressed, his voice sounding as tired and worn as he looked.

Neville considered Harry and his words. He didn't know if he could or should trust Harry, and it wasn't only because he knew Graces would murder him if he told a soul. It was also because he didn't feel like he could trust Harry.

"Let's pretend for a moment that what you are saying is all true," Neville started slowly, watching Harry's every small reaction. "That Graces wants to be with me. That the possibility of me having a life with her is real. How could I not hate myself if I stood back and did nothing in this war? How could I look at my future children knowing that I allowed others to die? How would I justify that to them? Or, worse, how do I live in a world where they think there is nothing to justify? Where they think that You Know Who winning this war was a good thing. What do I do when it's my son saying mudblood? I don't want that world, Harry. I can't be partially responsible for letting that happen. I love Graces. I would die for her. I would lie for her. I won't hurt innocent people for her."

"You don't have to lie to me," Harry said tightly. "You can be honest with me. I won't tell a soul." It was tempting, exceptionally tempting. If he knew more of Harry's motivation he may even believe him. "It can't be easy being in a relationship with Graces Malfoy... or anyone in that family." Despite the situation Neville wasn't able to stop a small, sad chuckle from escaping his lips. "I just want to be your friend. I want to be someone you can talk to."

Neville knew Harry's declaration to be sincere, but he also knew that Graces would never forgive him if he talked with Harry about her. "I'm going to bed," he said quietly stepping off the staircase and heading to the portrait hole. "Good night, Harry."

He could feel Harry watching his every movement as he moved to leave Gryffindor Tower. As he was about to close the door Harry replied back with a good night. A small weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he walked to meet Graces. He hadn't even realized what kind of burden this secret had been on him until it was suddenly gone. He entered his and Graces' room, his mind still swimming with everything that had just occurred.

A glow could be seen around the door frame of their shared room, letting Neville know Graces had not gone to sleep yet. He opened the door to find her sitting in the bed, the candles on each of their night stands the only thing illuminating her face in the darkness. Her full face. Neville stepped closer to the bed, watching as Graces' false eye moved about wildly, never focusing on one thing for more than a moment before moving to the next. She had told him about that when he first found out about the surgery, but even knowing it was still daunting to behold.

"If you hold very still I can focus it for a time."

Neville nodded and took a seat on the bed so he was facing her. He watched as Graces concentrated on his face, until her eye was only looking at him, though it shook slightly as though it were fighting against her control. Bits of dried blood were on the edge of her eye, like sleep when you wake. He stared at it, wanting to reach out and brush it away but too scared to do so.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked quietly. "Before you said it hurt when it moved."

"No, it doesn't hurt at all now," Graces whispered, relinquishing her control and allowing the eye to move. "Mild headache from trying to control it. After a time it will be second nature, almost like a natural eye. Until then I have the patch and must practice."

"Almost?" Neville asked, his heart already sinking.

Graces gave a smirk, but it wasn't with the same confidence as she had once had. "I'll have more abilities with this eye. But I won't choose many. The more magical the eye, the harder it will be to control."

"What abilities?"

"I haven't decided how I want my healer to charm it. So I can see dangerous items, such as curses and poisons, or if I want to be able to see someone trying to be invisible."

Neville let out a chuckle that must not have sounded so sincere, as Graces moved her hand to his and said sadly. "It's going to heal, and when it does it won't look any different than my actual one. No one will be able to tell. The swelling is already subsiding."

Neville debating asking anymore questions for a moment. "There's some-some dried blood."

"Under the eye there's some stitches, they get irritated and bleed a bit. It will heal quickly; it's already healed a great amount."

"There's no pain?" Neville asked again, nervous despite himself.

"None. Not even when it bleeds."

"Good." He moved closer and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, moving his hand to her now short hair. He thought about last night, what she said, what it meant. And then his mind ran back to that night in the woods.

"Come to bed, Neville, it's late."

Neville nodded. "Let me just get washed up."

"And get out of those Gryffindor colors."

Neville laughed and played along. It was forced. It all felt forced, he could feel Graces' humor as what it was, a gentle push to not have a real conversation about what was happening, what happened. He felt cowardly not forcing a conversation, but at the same time he was scared to push too much.

The candles were blown out by the time he joined Graces in their bed. He moved closer and wrapped his arm around her. "Harry and I made up."

"Oh? How did that happen?"

"He admitted he's an arse."

"You said you two made up and yet I still sense some hostility on your part."

Neville sighed. "Harry tends to become... obsessive when he gets an idea. I just want him to leave you alone."

"I think he will."

"Why do you say that."

"I visited Professor Hagrid today... Potter was there."

Neville could practically hear her shrugging in the dark. He sat up and turned her so she was on his back. He had known she had visited Hagrid, Harry had said earlier, but he wanted to see what her motives really were. He had doubts as to whether or not she really visited to thank him. "You visited Professor Hagrid?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Graces looked up intently at him for a moment before sitting up. "To thank him." Neville understood why she did such a thing, but it was surprising still that she did it, that Graces Malfoy went and thanked a half giant. "I didn't realize Potter would be there. Anyways, I don't know why, but I have a feeling Potter will be leaving me alone."

"Do you think Professor Hagrid told him what happened?"

"No," Graces answered with such perfect certainty it surprised Neville. "He would never do that."

Neville nodded, but he didn't understand. Not really. He didn't understand any of this. He knew Hagrid had helped her, but he didn't know what he had done. Nothing about how Graces' mind worked made sense to him, and she was content to just not discuss it all any further.

"We have to talk about what happened, Graces."

"Why? There's nothing to discuss."

Neville chewed the inside of his cheek. "I don't think you are well. I-I don't think you value your life, Graces. I—"

"I told you I did all this for you. I—"

"I know what you said," Neville interrupted, his voice patient despite his demeanor. "I just don't think it's everything. I think it's how you rationalized the action, but I don't think it's everything."

"I didn't want to die."

"No, I don't think you actively wanted to die. But I do think that you felt that your life was worth less than mine, than Draco's. That's why you never wanted to tell, to shield Draco. You put yourself in danger again and again, refusing to let me or anyone else really help you. You picked a potion to get back at Nott that used your suffering, your pain. The healers were telling Draco—"

"I don't want to hear what the healers said. I want to know what you think." Graces swallowed. "And it sounds like you think I'm not right, like I'm mad, even after we talked, after I explained."

Neville tried to think of what to say, how to tell Graces that he didn't think she was all well mentally. He could already see that any conversation where he just said that would end in disaster. But she wasn't; she couldn't be.

"I am not your mother," Graces seethed.

"I never said—"

"You're thinking it," she snapped. "You think I'm breaking, possibly already cracked, and you're thinking of—of a cup? Shattering again and again against the wall, and that somehow this relates to me, to your mother, to my mind!"

"You are not supposed to go into my head," Neville reminded, holding Graces' chin lightly between his index finger and thumb.

"You weren't saying anything."

Neville ground his teeth at Graces' petulance, but maintained the calm in his voice. "I was trying to figure out what to say."

"Well, now you don't have to."

"You are not allowed to flit into and out of my head as you will."

"Why? You're the one all about being open and honest."

"Graces," Neville warned, his temper flaring despite his resolve.

"I am trying!" Graces snapped. "I am bloody trying! I'm not wearing the patch, I'm letting you see me, and you're thinking that I need to be sent away!"

"I am not thinking you need to be sent away!" Neville yelled back. "I have said nothing like that!"

"You thought it!"

"No, I did not!"

"Then why are you comparing me to your mother!"

"I'm not!"

"Yes you are, she's right there at the front of your mind when you think of me! You think that I'm just like her!"

"I don't!"

"Yes you do!" Graces spat, curling her lip. "Just admit it, if we're to be so open and honest with one another. Just admit you think of me and her as one and the same. Maybe that's why you love me, maybe you have to think I'm like that to love me. You sure didn't love me when my life was perfect. No I needed to be broken like your mother to gain affection—"

"You are nothing like my mother because my mother would never have done this to herself! She isn't what she is because she was self-destructive! My mother was a fighter! She fought! And she gave everything in that fight! You gave up!" It took one singular moment for Neville to realize what he had said. Not just what he had said, but why he had said it. It was the first time he had ever said something to purposely hurt her.

"I didn't mean that," he said, still aghast with the fact that those words had in fact come out of his mouth. "Graces—"

"Get away from me." She pushed past him, her eyes brimming with tears as her face contorted to hide the pain he had caused. He refused to let her go, wishing she was still angry and spiteful, anything but crushed and disarrayed. It was easy to stop her from leaving. She practically collapsed in his arms when he grabbed.

"I'm sorry," he repeated again and again, unsure if she was even hearing him. "I didn't mean it. I didn't." She held him back, and he knew she forgave him, but he didn't feel any better for it. He thought back to the first time she cried like this in his arms, when they were in an abandoned classroom and she couldn't even admit that there was anything between them. How was it that after all this time they were still here? Still in what felt like the same damn situation. Graces was right. This couldn't continue. There had to be a choice at the end. There had to be a choice and there had to be real healing. He didn't see how that could all happen though and he still didn't want her to lose everything.

"I'm sorry for what I said too," she whispered after a while. Neville nodded, but wasn't able to leave his thoughts.

"I don't want it to be like this for us. It can't be this way for us." Graces nodded in agreement and wiped away a few more bloody tears.

"I am trying," Graces said helplessly. "I am. I really want to be better. I really have been trying, I admit what we are. I think about a future, our future. I—"

"I know," Neville interrupted, closing his eyes to keep his own emotions in check. "I know," he repeated tightly. "Maybe I'm impatient, because you're right. You are trying. Things have changed, but I still feel like an outsider looking in on your life. And now I'm frightened of it."

Neville thought back to what he had felt when Graces had stabbed herself, what he had felt when he realized she couldn't see out of that eye. She had so many secrets, so many things lurked inside of her that she kept hidden from him, from Draco, from the world. Brief were the moments he saw those things, but once they were shown he couldn't look at her without seeing them.

Graces looked away for a moment. "I didn't want to die. I never intended to die." She swallowed and tucked herself under his chin so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye as she continued. "But I knew it was a risk. A possibility. And there was a point, a brief moment and I swear it wasn't even for long, when I thought this would be easier. I was bleeding out and it stopped hurting, and I thought how wonderful it would be if this was all over."

He didn't know what he was thinking, what he was feeling, everything in his head went black and he just cried.

"It left my mind as soon as it came. I swear it did. Because I thought of you and Draco. I thought of my Mum, Thomas and Octavian. I even thought of Graham. I didn't want to die, it wasn't even a thought worth mentioning because it was so quick."

She was pleading, as though she desperately needed him to believe her. The thing was he did believe her, he believed that is exactly what happened, but it didn't change what it meant. It didn't change how he felt, how she had felt at that time. It didn't change that she needed help.

"Neville, please say something," she whispered.

"I love you." It was all he could think to say. It was the only thing that he could think over the ringing in his head.

"Are you going to tell?"

"No."

"Do you believe me?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you crying like this?"

Lots of reasons. She had wanted to—if only for a second—she had wanted to die. And the most disturbing thing of it all was it wasn't the desire to live that made her want to continue on, it was obligations to people. She didn't want to live for herself. She wanted to live because she didn't want to hurt the people she loved. Was she so unhappy? Had he not realized how unhappy she must have been all these months? Was she using him and the people around her as a tie to this world. Did she really find no other enjoyment in living? Did death truly seem easier? She clearly didn't value her life in comparison with others. Was this the start? He thought of what may be around the corner and he had no idea how to handle it.

"Because I think you need help," Neville answered honestly. "And I don't know how to help you."

"You think the healers are right," Graces said tightly. "You think I'm going mad."

Neville took a deep breathe. "I don't think you are mad, Graces. I think you may be a bit sad, sadder than I knew. Which you are justified to be," Neville added, making sure to be careful with his next statement. "And I think everything has weighed down on you. This war, your father's absence, the separation from your mother, the fear you live in on a daily basis, Thomas and Octavian. You are sixteen, but the problems you have are not sixteen year old problems. The relationships you have are twisted into what they have to be and not what they should be. You're not a friend to Thomas, you're more like a guardian. Draco can't be an annoying brother because he's had to be your protector. Graham isn't just a friend he's—well, he's a potential alliance in marriage that may save your life. You have to hide from everyone around you and you can't trust the adults in your life to help you. It's all on you." Neville was silent for a long moment. "Even our relationship isn't what it should be."

"What should it be?"

Neville smirked at the unsureness in Graces' voice. "In a world without this war our biggest problem should have been getting your brother and family to like me. We would have dated, actually dated gone on dates. Things should have progressed slowly."

"We would have never dated. This never would have happened without the war."

"You don't know that." Graces raised an eyebrow at him before laying her head back down. "You don't."

"I know."

"I could have charmed you."

Graces let out a snort. "I doubt it and even if that were true you wouldn't have wanted to charm me."

"I told you that I had the beginnings of a crush on you before the greenhouse."

Graces flushed. "I really don't understand that, but I doubt your little infatuation would have survived my harsh tongue. If we had never had that night in the greenhouse nothing would have developed between us."

"You enjoyed my company in Herbology. Before the greenhouse, you told me so yourself that night."

"I was drunk."

"You were honest. I think it would have taken half the year, but you would have eventually thought enough of me to entertain the idea of a crush."

"Which I would have fought."

"And I would just continue to be gentle and patient despite your Malfoyness, and then I bet come summer you would miss me."

"Missed you?" Graces laughed.

"Absolutely, you would probably be home and one day be looking at some flowers, probably in your disgustingly elaborate garden, and you would have this sudden urge to owl me about some plant. Of course you would fight the urge, realizing that you were only looking for some excuse to talk to me, but it would be there."

Graces rolled her eyes, well one eye, and Neville decided to continue on. Enjoying this conversation over the other.

"You would eventually write. You're too accustomed to having what you want and having it immediately. So you wouldn't be able to stifle your impulses and you would write me. Probably with some question relating to a plant or little garden project you wanted to do. Maybe you want to plant things so you have everything you need for a potion, I don't know, point is you would write me."

Graces was silent for a moment. "Would you have replied?"

"Of course. Probably within the hour I got the letter. Not thinking much of it, other than I would enjoy the discussion and be happy to receive a letter from you. I would hide it from my Gran, unless she saw before I could, but I would quickly reply. You—I bet—would wait days before deciding to reply and when you do the letter would be riddled with question upon question and maybe end with one pleasantry."

Graces smiled and Neville knew what he had stated was true. "Eventually you would be dying to see me."

" _Dying?_ " Graces repeated skeptically.

"Yes, dying. The letters wouldn't be enough. You couldn't just bring up a normal conversation in a letter, but if you were with me you could. So you would probably find some excuse to meet me somewhere in Diagon Alley, maybe to help you select something for your garden project or to get an opinion on a herbology-related purchase. I don't know, you're the Slytherin. You would figure something out. And I would meet you, having no idea that you had motives other than herbological interest."

"Which frankly would have been a good thing. If I had any idea that I had a chance with you I would have become a nervous wreck. I mean, I probably would already be anxiously excited to see you, but if I knew your reasoning it would be a disaster."

"So our meet would go smoothly, because you wouldn't know?"

Neville laughed and nodded. "I would have talked your ear off about plants, but yeah pretty smoothly. Then we would part ways and—"

"We wouldn't have just parted ways," Graces scoffed. "I would have feigned hunger and asked if you wanted to get something at Florean Fortescue's. I may have even done that in the middle of the errand, so I could have a casual conversation with you. Try to see if you really were interesting to me, or if my infatuation truly was fleeting."

"Well, that sure would have ended the meeting going smoothly," he admitted with a soft chuckle. He could see the whole scenario perfectly. Graces in all her confidence and coolness making such a normal suggestion and it just completely unraveling him. No way would he have not been awkward after that. He looked down at Graces who was smirking as though she knew this herself, and imagined she would have enjoyed his nervousness in this scenario.

"What happens from there?"

"We would slowly build a friendship. A real one, not just polite acquaintances. We would become friends, writing letters over the summer. By school time I probably would be absolutely mad over you and sick with worry that you wouldn't pay me any mind now that the school year has begun and you would have your friends back." Neville smiled. "You wouldn't though. It would be easier for us to be friends at school without a war. Not simple, just easier. You Know Who wouldn't have risen, so I never would have went to the Ministry with Harry. You would have no real reason to have animosity towards me other than—"

"That you're a dirty, muggle-loving blood traitor," Graces finished smiling widely.

"I was going to say other than me being a Gryffindor, but I suppose that would be the bigger issue."

"My family would never accept us, Neville," Graces said sadly, moving closer into him and closing her eyes.

"You're wrong. I saw first hand how much your family loves you. I was there as you lay in the hospital bed fighting for your life. We would win them over, I would win them over. Draco wouldn't even be difficult. If he saw us as friends and it gradually progressed, if you could talk with him about your feelings, if he could sit down and have a real conversation with me. I think he would accept me. Your mother would be harder, but—"

"My father would be around in this scenario," Graces reminded. "I doubt you would win him over."

"No, he never would like me. He would accept me though."

"You're delusional."

Neville chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. "I am not proud of this, but I am still a pureblood." Graces scowled. "And this would have been the only time, in my entire life, that I would have used that. The only time. But I would use it if it meant your father would have me over for one damn dinner so I could see you properly."

"There's more to pureblood culture than blood, Neville."

"Yeah there is. And I would be willing to do the stupid song and dance of courting you. I would put up with the three months of seperation, the supervisions, everything."

"None of that would get my father to like you."

"He wouldn't like me, he would accept me. Honestly, he may enjoy the fact that I am a blood traitor, helps sell his story of not ever being a Death Eater of his own will if he can point out his daughter is dating a Longbottom. I have no doubt your father would throw our dating and my last name around politically to benefit himself. Not to mention he probably would think he had me under his thumb."

"You really are a dreamer, Longbottom."

"I am, but you can see it can't you?"

"Some of it," Graces admitted. "Not all. When and how would you ask me out?"

"At some point you would probably get tired of my dragging my feet and demand to know if I planned on taking you out properly or if I was content to just be your friend. I imagine it wouldn't be fairly into the school year, maybe Christmas time, you do hate waiting."

"So I would bully you into asking me?"

"Gently nudging," Neville corrected, kissing her forehead. "I honestly would have needed it."

"Where would you have taken me?"

"Three Broomsticks. I'm not that original."

"Would you have kissed me?"

Neville flushed. "Thought of it, dreamt of it, but no. It would be a few dates before I worked up the courage for that."

Graces laughed. "You don't give yourself enough credit. Do I need to remind you of what happened the first time we were alone together?"

Neville smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That night was one of the best nights of my life, but that's not what it should have been, Graces. In a perfect world things would have progressed slowly, we would have gotten to know one another, our feelings would have had much more time to develop." Neville was silent for a moment, thinking of what would have been. What should have been. "In a world without this war the first time we slept together you would have loved me... and I would have loved you. And that act wouldn't have been something that took away our pain, but an act of love. Your first time should have been with someone you loved."

Graces was silent for a long time before reaching up and touching his face. Both her eyes focused on his. "Maybe it was," she whispered, leaning in and kissing him softly. "I just need time to figure out how I feel."

"That's kind of my point. You would have had time and you would have made that decision when you were sure. All that time where you felt badly about it, wouldn't have—"

"Do you wish you would have had that?" Graces asked looking up at him quizzically. "Do you wish you would have been in love? Do you wish you were with someone who is in love with you?"

"I only wished for you."

Graces fell silent and stared at him for a moment before looking away and saying they should get some sleep. He nodded and stood up from the uncomfortable stone floor and followed her to bed. He barely slipped under the covers before she was nestled up against him in the crook of his arm. He laid there for only a moment before his body responded to the soft, warm bed and the exhaustion of the last week.

"Neville," Graces whispered, somewhere between the darkness trying to swallow him and the room still around. "I think I wished for stupid things and the gods knew better or maybe took pity on me and sent me you."

Neville smiled, but couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. "Who's saying pretty things now?"


	93. Chapter 93

"What are your thoughts, Montague?"

Graham looked up pensively from his seat at the far end of the table and shrugged slightly.

"I think it will all be doable, if we can get a foothold in the Ministry," he stipulated, looking between Umbridge and Runcorn. "Even then there is the question of manpower."

"We will have a foothold in the Ministry. Fudge left the Ministry ill-prepared and Scrimgeour is too busy trying to reassure the public of the ministries competence that he has failed to actually do so." Runcorn sneered.

"Still—" Graham continued respectfully "—this will not be an easy task. The registry alone will be absolute chaos. No one is going to register as a muggleborn and the purebloods who hold to their pro-muggle ideals are going to fight us. Not only will we have to hunt every single muggleborn down to bring into the Ministry for questioning, but we will also have to have investigations simply to get the names of who among us is muggleborn. We have discussed hiring mercenaries to help round them up, but I have a difficult time trusting hired hands to do such tasks."

"I doubt we will have a difficult time getting names," Umbridge piped in with her overly high, girlish voice. "Most faithful witches and wizards would be able to name plenty. I bet even you, Mr. Montague, could name not only muggle borns in your class, but half bloods and half breeds as well."

Graham did his best not to wince at Umbridge's sickly smile at the mention of half breeds. He prayed that she was just making a point and wasn't thinking of Wamil. Even if her Siren heritage wasn't known, her veela was obvious, even if it wasn't much Veela.

"You're very young, dear, I'm glad we have included you in these meetings. You do need to learn and be apart of the changes that will be made in the Ministry, but you do not have a grasp of how great the Ministry's power is. When you begin working come the summer you will have a much higher appreciation for bureaucratic power."

Graham motioned with his chin and delicately bowed out of the discussion, but Runcorn's eyes continued to pierce through him. "What department will you be working in once you graduate?"

"International Magical Cooperation," Graham answered blandly.

"What office? Trade? WIll you be overseeing cauldron density?" The table laughed, but Graham kept a straight face.

"Delegation for the International Confederation of Wizards."

Runcorn raised a brow. "Impressive, especially considering they have taken you straight out of Hogwarts. Most have to work years to get there."

"I will be at a very low level position," Graham stated. "I did an internship for them over the summer. Nothing grand, but enough to have my foot in the door."

"Even at a low level you will be able to be of use in that department." Runcorn seemed to have gained slightly more respect for him, but Graham was careful to not look at all interested. "Even with extraordinary grades and the internship you must have had some aid. Who wrote your letters of recommendation?"

"Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore."

It was the first time that the silence at the table frightened him. He was careful to not show his discomfort as the rest of the table exchanged glances.

"Interesting."

"Is it?" Graham asked, a small furrow of his brow. "I would think it was a rather practical move on my part. Considering my head of house is questionable—" he said delicately "—in many Ministry officials' eyes. McGonagall seemed to be the better choice."

"And Dumbledore?"

"He is the Headmaster at my school, it would be foolish to not accept a letter of recommendation from him. Especially when McGonagall had gone to the trouble of procuring it for me."

Umbridge twisted her mouth to the side in thought as she stared at him. Graham stared right back unflinching at her silent accusations.

"I would be very interested to read those letters."

"I am sure they are on file with the Ministry. I doubt you would have difficulty acquiring them."

"We will be sure to do so," Runcorn smiled.

"I'm sorry, is my loyalty in question?" Graham asked, bristling at the thought.

"Not yet," Dolores purred, standing to leave.

"The Dark Lord wants me to be apart of these meetings. My understanding is I am to be learning from you, not subject to interrogation. We are on the same side and I have done much to earn the Dark Lord's trust."

Umbridge just smiled in that sickly sweet way and left, Runcorn following close behind. A tense feeling coiled in Graham's gut. By the time he was walking through the Forbidden Forest to return to Hogwarts he was practically unraveling. He could see what was coming and it was horrifying. He tried not to think of Wamil being hunted down by mercenaries. He knew what kind of men went into that work and he wouldn't want one in the same room with anyone he cared about. He had worked with a mercenary a few weeks ago; those men were soulless and cruel and went into such lines of work so that they could profit off it. Blood purity meant nothing to them, they were motivated only by sadism.

He laid in bed that night and stared at the canopy of green above him blankly. Sleep never came.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Wamil stared at the owl in front of her. She knew what the letter in its talons would say and who it was from. Graham had sent her one a day for almost two weeks. On a few occasions she had even considered relieving the owl of it's burden and taking the letter, but once again she shook her head sternly and shooed the school owl away. Graham Montague had no business so much as looking at her, let alone demand that she meet with him. When she received the first letter she thought that perhaps he wanted to meet to apologize, but after she read it she realized there was no contrition for what he had done. It was quick and to the point. We need to talk; meet me tonight at midnight, same place as before.

She forced each bite of her breakfast down and tried to appear unbothered, but in truth she was a turmoil of emotions. She had had this image of who she thought Graham Montague was. It was something she had tucked away to herself and held dear. or years she had harbored a silly infatuation, letting it grow into a crush on a man that didn't really exist except in her head. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Maybe it was his cold silence that intrigued her and she thought him a man of mystery to the point where she took one small thing he did and made up a whole personality for him. It was stupid; she was stupid.

And yet she couldn't bring herself to turn him in for what he was. She didn't tell anyone how he attacked her, and she didn't tell about the Mark, though she knew she should. She laid awake at night vowing to go to the headmaster the next day, but never did. Why? She didn't quite understand herself. Her stomach officially turned, she stood up from the table, grabbed a scone for appearance, and left the Great Hall as though she needed to do something before class, but in reality she just needed a moment alone to breathe. She was halfway to her first class when she saw him.

He froze at the sight of her as she did the same. She would have turned to leave, made a show of turning on her heel, if it weren't for his face. He looked unraveled, fearful even, but not of her as he should be.

"Wamil." She jumped a bit at the sound of her name coming from his lips, at the sight of the openness on his face. He took a step forward, she took two back quicker than humanly possible. Hurt flickered across his face, but he nodded and backed away. "I—"

"I have nothing to say to you," she said quickly, the pastry in her hand crumbling in her fist. "What you did—the way you attacked me—that's unforgivable. It's—"

"You think I don't know that?" Graham asked angrily, looking around as though someone would turn the corner and see them at any moment. "I knew when I went into that classroom that what I was planning to do was unforgivable."

"I know what I am; I know who I am. I am not asking for forgiveness."

"Then what is it you want?"

A few students were now trickling into the hall. Graham tensed and shifted, but didn't retreat. "I can't say here. Please meet me," Graham whispered, his voice as desperate as he looked. "I'll send you my wand at dinner if it will make you feel safe. Please."

Wamil wasn't sure why she wanted to agree. She bit her tongue to keep from saying yes. No should have been the automatic answer, but the longer she looked at him the more she wanted to agree.

"I'll think about it." Her voice was breathy and it was taking all of her effort not to look away from him, not to pity him. His jaw tensed and for a moment she thought he was going to continue to plead, but he stopped himself and nodded. He left without another word.

She showed up that night against her better judgement. She had decided to be there early, long before midnight. Last time she had been naÏve; she was wiser now. Montague had, as promised, sent his wand at dinner. She had returned to her dorm to find an owl with a package on her bed, inside the long box laid his wand. The wand he had used against her. She had stared at it for a good hour. She wondered what it said about him that his wand's wood was blackthorn. The tree of ill omen. A tree thats fruit begins as bitter and severe as it's history before turning sweet after the first thaw. She held the rigid wood as she sat and waited, weighing its density and wondering about it's core, as if that would tell her something about the owner and his intentions.

It would be easy to label Graham's intentions as malicious, but she knew they were not. They at least didn't come from a place of malice, they came from a twisted form of love. And she knew it to be love that he held for her. She had sung and it had no effect on him. He wanted to hide what she was, and if he was doing that then he was doing it to protect her.

If he did that to protect me what else would he do? She paused at that thought. The mark on his arm was still vivid in her mind as though he were there right now and she was looking at it. She suddenly felt panicked by her decision to be there. This was clearly a mistake. No sane person would have come after everything that had happened between her and Montague. He wasn't what she had believed, he had proved that to her already, so why was she here? Love didn't mean anything. It didn't matter what he felt for her if the way he showed it was with pain. As quickly as she could she moved to the door, determined to get away from her poor choice to be there to begin with.

No sooner had her fingers touched the door did it open. Graham blinked in surprise at the sight of her. She watched as he slowly put together the situation. He didn't move out of the doorway to allow her to leave; she hadn't really expected him to, but it would have made things easier.

"Please, move," she requested steadily. He stepped more into the room herding her back away from the doorway. "You know that's not what I meant," she said steadily.

Graham raised a brow. "You have my wand and we both know that physically you have the upper hand."

"I want to leave," Wamil maintained.

"I can see that," Graham sighed, his frustration showing. "And I will let you, but first we will talk."

"Don't make me hurt you, Montague," Wamil warned, her teeth turning sharp for emphasis.

Graham's eyes lingered for a moment at her fangs, before they met her eyes. "Hurt me."

Despite what he had done, she didn't want to. She took his wand out instead, one hand braced on each end. "I'll snap it. I swear I will."

Graham flinched and she noted that his hand fidgeted by his side, but he maintained his wall.

"Snap it," he ordered, his voice not nearly as strong. "I won't let you leave without hearing what I have to say."

Wamil pursed her lips. "Fine." She flung his wand at him, embarrassed and defeated. He seemed a bit taken aback that she had given it back to him, but didn't comment.

She watched his eyes shift around the room. "Perhaps we could we sit?"

Wamil crossed her arms. "I didn't realize this was a tea and biscuits sort of affair." Graham didn't take her bait, the Slytherin remained as poised as ever and patiently waited for her to move to sit. If anything it angered her more. She turned on her heel and went to sit. She didn't truly want an altercation, but she wanted something.

"You shouldn't make a threat if you have no intention of carrying it out," Graham said slowly, wiping some dust from the chair before taking a seat. "If someone knows you won't follow through they will disregard what you say in such matters. Or at the very least count that you will hesitate long enough for them to disarm you or cause you harm."

"I believe the last time we were in close proximity I carved up your face," Wamil reminded, her voice laced with hate.

Graham's dark eyes stared across the table at her in a way that made it difficult for her to sit still. She wondered what it was that he was thinking. There was no emotion to be seen, except exhaustion which seemed to riddle every corner of his features.

"Is it true that sirens are unusually strong?"

She scowled, unsure of how to answer. It was true, but there was something in the way that the question was framed that made her feel as though it were a trap.

"It is," she said slowly.

Graham nodded, but didn't allow her to know his reasoning for the question. He drummed a finger on the wood of the desk and continued the silence. He now avoided looking at her as he clearly tried to decide how to start.

"You're in danger," he finally began, taking his hand off of the table and running it through his hair. "Not now, but soon. There's ... something coming. Something terrible," he murmured quietly. "You must leave and I don't mean just go into hiding. You must flee the country, start again somewhere else, become someone else."

Wamil frowned as she tried to make sense of the vague warning she was receiving. "Something is coming? Not someone?"

"Does it matter?" Graham asked, his weariness now seeping into his voice. "You're in danger."

"Why am I in danger?"

"You know why," Graham whispered, looking down at his hand.

"No. I truly don't, so explain it to me."

"I can't."

"You damn well can," Wamil snapped, standing from her seat. "You're choosing not to."

"Wamil, please."

"No! Don't sit there and tell me to leave my whole life behind and not even explain to me why I must do so!"

"Do you have any idea the risk I am taking just telling you this? I could be killed for just knowing what you are, but to actually warn you to hide..." Graham cut himself off and made some noise of irritation. "I am risking everything to help you. Isn't that enough to heed my warning?"

"So whatever it is that is coming is coming because I'm a siren? Did you tell someone or did the Malfoys say something?"

"No one has said anything."

"Then I have no reason to be fearful."

"Yes you do," Graham maintained slowly, standing up and moving toward her. "Your siren heritage is still a secret, but your veela heritage is well known."

"So? Many witches and wizards have veela heritage." Graham bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Are-are all of them in danger?" Graham didn't need to say a word for her to know the answer. "What is going on, Montague?"

"I can't—"

"You damn well can! If you expect me to heed your warning at all you will tell me, because as of right now I have every intention of telling you to bugger off and forgetting this meeting ever even happened."

"Do you have any idea what I am risking to tell you just this much?"

"Frankly, I don't care."

"I am risking my life to warn you."

"Your life?" Wamil repeated skeptically. "Well, if you're risking that much then you may as well go all out."

He stared at her for a long while, as though he couldn't believe her reaction. That she could be so heartless. She maintained her unforgiving glare as she waited for him to continue. She did feel bad, despite herself she felt horrible as he sat there looking so lost. Maybe that was what he was. Just lost.

"The light isn't going to win this war," Graham began quietly, his voice surprisingly tight. "It's just not. It's not one villain that the light is up against, it's a whole system and the Ministry is content to ignore what is happening, so they shall fall."

Graham paused and closed his eyes. "After the Ministry is infiltrated first they will go after the most prominent light figures, then the muggleborns, then people like you." He was trying so hard to hold himself together, but failing miserably. Wamil reached out to touch him, but he retreated back from her. "They're going to have a registry come next school term and there is no way your name will not be put on it. Your name and hundreds of others. And it won't be Aurors taking you in, it will be mercenaries. Do you know how mercenaries work?" Wamil shook her head. "Go to a farming field during harvest, watch how the dogs catch the rats that are unearthed. That's how they will hunt you all, like animals."

Wamil shook her head. That couldn't happen, there were too many good people in the world to allow that to happen. "That won't happen. The Ministry won't fall there—"

"The Ministry is going to fall," Graham persisted wearily. "Don't put your faith in a sinking ship."

"So I'm supposed to put my faith in you?"

"Me? I'm one of the people loading the cannons on the ship that sunk yours. But I will—" Graham continued reaching into his coat pocket and taking out some papers, "—point you in the direction of land."

Wamil reached out and took the papers, flipping through to see that Montague had obtained official papers for her, her brothers and her parents. All different identities, everything they would need to leave the country without any questions and to start anew. "There are two sets of false identities for all of you. Leave with one and when you get to somewhere safe take the other. Don't tell anyone that you're leaving, don't contact anyone after, and live in a home under a Fidelius charm."

Wamil stared at the papers. "Your answer to save me is to make me not exist," she whispered quietly.

"You existence isn't dependent on a name. Your identity isn't in your name and geographics."

"You're right. Identity is in actions. So explain to me yours. Who are you, Graham Montague? A Death Eater? Do you believe in all that blood purity bullshit? Do you want to hurt people like me? Is that why you attacked me the other night? Because you wanted to hurt me, render me powerless, put me in my—"

"You know why I did what I did," Graham snapped. "You're too smart to have not put it together. If you really believed that I wanted to harm you, that it was done out of hate, you would have killed me that night. You and I both know you had the ability to overpower me, to kill me."

"You're right, I do. So explain everything else to me? Why do you have the mark? Am I some exception to your beliefs?" Wamil asked, tearing up despite herself. "How can you love me, want to protect me and have that mark?" He refused to even look her in the eye. She needed answers. "Who are you?" she demanded, practically shaking.

"Someone you should forget," Graham answered, standing to leave.

"Don't you dare," Wamil growled, standing and putting herself between him and the path to the door. "I want answers and I will be damned if I let you leave without getting them. I want to know why, Montague. Why do you have that mark? Why do you care about me? Why do I deserve an escape when so many others are going to be trapped? WHO ARE YOU?"

sssssssssssssssssssssssss

It was worse than he thought it was going to be. Every fiber of his being wanted to leave the room, run away from her, her contempt and her questions. He couldn't stand any of it. He almost wished she would just turn him in. Azkaban would be a relief from his life now. Wamil continued to scream for answers. She was hysterical, he wished he could be so free. He would love to scream like she was now, to allow himself to feel all the things she was feeling, but that would be a downward spiral. If he truly allowed himself to dive into his emotions he would drown in them.

"Answer me!"

Graham took a step back surprised at her proximity and unsure when she moved closer. She looked like she was ready to tear him apart. He wondered if that was part of her veela heritage, they did by nature have a short temper. He was thankful she didn't grow a beak and sprout those scaly wings like true veelas. As he had the thought he did notice her teeth had sharpened. He did his best not to stare and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he answered, his voice smaller than he intended. He delicately moved around her, too scared to even brush her shoulder, not because he feared her, but because after what he did he was sure she wouldn't appreciate the contact. He was almost out the door, mere steps away from closing this chapter of his life, when Wamil cried out in anger and then to his horror proceeded to tear all of the papers he had given to her.

"What are you doing? Stop. Stop!"

"I'm-not-going-anywhere!" Wamil screamed, tearing the last bit of the papers she could before throwing the shreds to the ground and grabbing her wand.

Graham knew immediately that she was about to incinerate them and grabbed his own wand and cast a disarming charm. Nothing happened, her wand didn't move at all. He cast the same spell and again nothing. Wamil watched him as he tried in vain to use his wand.

"It's charmed," she spat, as though he should have known that his wand would be rendered useless. "I bound it. You can never use it on me again. You didn't think that I would meet you here with no precautions did you?" she asked, flicking her own wand and setting the papers he had risked everything to get her ablaze.

He almost dove for them, but she didn't allow it. She literally held him back with that strength he knew she had, but never witnessed. He watched as her salvation all burnt to ash.

"What have you done?" he could barely speak. He felt as though he was going to be sick. He couldn't get her another set of papers. Getting this set was tricky enough. He had walked through so many back doors in the Ministry to get them and he wasn't sly enough to do it a second time. He had almost been caught red-handed multiple times, it was his name and charm that saved him, that prevented other Ministry officials from questioning why he was in a room late at night, and didn't dare check his person for anything that may have been taken. "I can't get you another set. I can't."

"I know."

"You know?" Graham lashed out. "You're going to die. You and your family are going to die. I risked everything to get you those papers. It wasn't just my life!"

"I risked my sisters' lives! My nephews' and nieces!' My father's! My mum's!" He pounded his fist on the soot left over by the fire.

"I never asked you to do that."

"Yeah, well I did!" He stilled as he realized she was holding him. And not holding him back like she was before, she was just holding him.

"Graham," she whispered, her voice soft and gentle. "Talk to me." She reached her hand up towards him and wiped away tears he had not realized he even had. He jerked away and he thanked the gods that she allowed him to stand and compose himself.

"Why? Why did you do that for me?"

"What does it matter?" Graham asked scornfully. "It was a waste."

"It matters."

"You know why."

"No, because I doubt your feelings for me overpower the love you have for your family. So why risk their lives for me?"

"Because—" Graham paused and waited for a moment when his voice would be stronger. "Because I didn't want to feel the way I felt when my sister died. And I knew—I know I will feel that way when you die, which is assured now."

Wamil nodded, but didn't look at all distressed by his morbid prediction of her future.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Graham continued, his voice edged with impatience. "I wanted to make you less noticeable, I wanted to scare you so that you would flee. I thought if I hurt you then you would run. You would be safe and my family and I would be safe."

"Hufflepuffs don't run," Wamil shrugged, as though that statement explained it all. "Unafraid of toil," she clarified. "We stand our ground."

"You must leave," he said softly- desperately. "They will slaughter you. You will die."

Wamil who had not gotten up from the floor folded her hands gently in her lap. "Then I die," she said simply.

"No. No, you can't mean that. You can't."

"I will fight."

"You will not win!"

Wamil closed her eyes to his rage and released a slow, steady breath. "I accept that."

"WELL I DON'T!"

"You have to leave! You have no idea what is coming, Wamil. None. In a few months time they will have all the power. All of it. The Light is going to fail."

She just stared, unmoving and unchanging. He was falling apart and she was just sitting there as calm as could be looking at him as though he were the one to be pitied. As if he was the one who would be hunted down and killed.

"Some things, Graham, are worth dying for. If more people stood their ground this world would be better. Is it right for me to live and let others die? It sounds like we need people like me to stay to fight."

"You fighting won't change anything," Graham declared venomously. "You will be killed. How will that help anything?"

Wamil was silent for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe it will make you a better man."

Graham opened his mouth to say something scathing only to close it.

"Will you talk to me?"

He scowled.

"I am talking to you."

"No, Graham. Really talk to me. Not about this, about—" she sighed "—just talk."

He was glad to see that she looked just as confused by her request as he was. He didn't know what it was she expected to talk to him about or what she would gain from it. Talking wasn't going to change their situation; it wouldn't rewrite the past.

"Do you believe it, all that stuff about blood purity?"

"No." It was true too, he hadn't believed that in years. He pretended he did, knowing better than to speak out lest he be treated like the Weasleys and Longbottoms. It was one thing to not believe in it when you were in Gryffindor and your family didn't run in the pureblood circles, but if he had voiced his opinion he would be disowned and ostracized in his society.

"Why did you take the Mark then?"

The shame that he carried magnified as she stared up at him with such hurt and betrayal. He cleared his throat, but the longer he tried to search for words the harder it became. He didn't regret his decision, he did what needed to be done for himself and his family. But there was no justifying it to her. The cost of his family being safe was the cost of others' not being safe. He chose what he could live with.

"How could you bow to that monster? He killed your sister, your nephews and hundreds of other innocent people. How could you do that if you don't even believe in it? He murdered your sister," Wamil stressed. "She died horribly."

"You don't think I know that?" Graham snarled, his temper flaring as she talked to him as though he had the understanding of a child, as though he didn't know what had happened.

"Then how?" Wamil asked, her anger matching his now. "How can you do this? Why would you do this? He killed them." She was now on her feet, backing him into a corner with her questions. "You said you didn't want to feel the pain of losing your sister ever again, then why would you become just like the people that took her away? Why? Why!?"

"Because I have other sisters!" Graham shouted, pushing past her for space. He felt as though someone was sitting on his chest, he loosened his tie and ran his fingers through his hair that had become damp with sweat at some point since he entered the room. "I was given an opportunity to keep them safe and, damn it, I took it. And I would take it again if I had to. I may not believe in blood purity, but I believe in blood. My sisters were not going to die if I could protect them."

"My father is weak, he wanted to cling to this idea of neutrality even after Arella was killed and damn if my sisters all didn't marry men just like him! None of their husbands decided to change their position in the war. All of them stayed neutral, as though what happened to the Higgs wasn't a message. No, they just wanted to wait it all out. See how this war was going before they took a side. The sick thing is they all believe in this shit. They all believe in blood purity. I'm the only one who doesn't and I'm the only one who has the Mark."

He felt dizzy, like the world was spinning around him and he couldn't focus on a spot to center himself. He never focused on what he was doing, what he did. He made a plan and followed through, didn't question it as he carried it out. Everything he chose was calculated and now standing here in front of her all he could think was that he shouldn't have ever had to make those choices. That he shouldn't be here.

"I was going to ask you to the ball," he admitted quietly. "I-I was going to give up everything. My family, my friends. I didn't care, I loved you and I was going to ask you to the ball." His hands twisted at the memory. "I had this idea in my head that you could love me as well. That you longed for me the way that I longed for you and no stupid blood status was going to keep us apart any longer. I knew my family wouldn't approve, but I didn't cared. I loved you. But I was too nervous in the days before the ball." He brushed away some tears and continued on. Compelled to tell her everything, not because it was her, but because he realized he wanted to tell someone.

"You're so well liked. You always had a crowd of friends around you. I have difficulty with people," he admitted. "I get uncomfortable rather quickly. So I, uh, didn't ask. Instead I decided I would ask you to dance at the ball. Right away. I didn't care that it would be in front of everyone. This was the one plan in my life I made and didn't follow through with, and it could have saved me from what I am now."

"In my head you said yes. And for the next three years we would date here in Hogwarts. I hoped my sisters would still see me, maybe my parents would come around, but I didn't care. We were going to be together; I wasn't going to live a lie anymore."

"And then you showed up to the ball with that Ravenclaw boy. He was nothing like me. He was warm, well liked and smiled constantly. And suddenly my idea that you may feel the same way seemed so foolish. I watched you laugh and dance with him all through the night and couldn't imagine you wanting me, cold, unfeeling me."

"You feel, Graham," Wamil murmured, wiping away her own misplaced tears. "I think you feel more deeply than most."

Graham suddenly wished he had just left. He felt embarrassed after saying all of that. He didn't feel any sense of relief now that it was out, hanging in the air between us. He had made a bad situation worse. None of this was able to be changed there was no point in telling her any of this.

"Why didn't you say anything? You could have told me when I gave your coat back to you. Or come up to me in class or after class. I would have—"

"You would have what?" Graham asked wearily. "I distinctly remember you and that Ravenclaw guy were an item after the ball. You two were an item for a long time. I moved on. Well, I tried to move on," Graham corrected.

"Is that what Graces is? You moving on?"

"No. The girls before Graces was moving on. Graces was a crush for a brief period, then she was a calculated decision to better my family's status."

"Was?" Wamil repeated. "What is she now?"

"Now she is my best friend's sister, who I will marry to protect."

"Even though you love me."

"Should I allow her to die for that love? Graces, who buried my sister, who saved the Higgs families' last heir. How could I allow Draco's sister to die and then still cherish him as a friend?"

"You don't love her."

"She doesn't love me."

Graham tried to embrace the silence that had surrounded them. He felt it was fitting for it all to end like this, with silence. He held to it. Ever since he could remember silence had been a comfort to him. He felt more comfortable with it than with anything else. Maybe it was because growing up in a household with so many sisters there was a lack of it, or maybe it was because there was something in him that didn't fit with the rest of the loud, busy world. Either way he didn't feel like there was coming back from this. He was about to move to leave when Wamil spoke again.

"What's your wand's core?

The question caught him off guard, but he eventually answered. "Bone."

"Bone," Wamil repeated. "Bones protect organs; what's vital within us. I think I have an idea of who you are, Graham. Blackthorn and bone. Thorny and hard to get to, bitter until turning sweet and protective of what you can't live without."

He could see where this was going and it was infinitely more painful. "None of this matters, Wamil. There's no point in this."

"In us talking?"

"Yes."

"Have you wondered why I didn't turn you in? Why I didn't expose what you were?"

"I know why."

"You know?"

Graham looked down at his hands. "I knew after I harmed you it would go two ways, you would expose me and I would be taken away by Aurors. Or you would say nothing... and hope to protect me, possibly change me... because you had feelings for me. Even if I didn't warrant those affections. I wish you had just turned me in," Graham admitted quietly.

"You don't belong in Azkaban, Graham," Wamil choked out. "You still have time to turn this around. You can still make the right choice." She moved forward and took his hand. "You can still choose me."

The right choice, he didn't even know what that meant anymore. Was it right to put his family in danger? To let Draco and Graces die? That didn't feel right. He imagined what would happen to Draco if he wasn't helping him. Even if they couldn't get that damn cabinet to work, he was still there for Draco. Was that wrong? The right choice was supposed to be what was right for everyone, but what was right for everyone wasn't right for the people he loved. So in the end the choice was to choose the people he loved or to let the people he loved suffer for the greater good. The greater good was only going to save one person he cared about. He slowly closed his fingers around Wamil's hand. He was surprised at how cold her hand was, he expected it to be warm just like she was.

"Do you remember when we met?" Wamil asked, smiling up at him through tears. "The very first time."

He needed to leave. Tear his hand away and go to the dungeons where he belonged. Not linger here for moments he could never hope to keep. "Wamil, please—"

"It was our second year when someone had bought out the candy trolley."

"I remember," Graham acknowledged, wishing she would stop.

"You were so angry, I could hear you from my compartment demanding to know who bought out the whole trolley."

Graham scowled. "I know I didn't raise my voice, nor was I in any way disrespectful to the trolley woman."

"No," Wamil chuckled softly. "You didn't. 'Completely out? Someone bought the whole trolley? Who?'"

Graham raised a brow at Wamil's interpretation of his accent. "I don't sound that posh."

"Oh, yes you do," Wamil laughed, holding his hand tighter. "You absolutely do." Graham shrugged and decided he didn't want to argue. "Do you remember what happened after?"

"You came out into the hall and offered me a box of ice mice."

"And you refused to take it," Wamil pointed out.

"It wasn't your fault that it was all gone," Graham shrugged. "And I didn't know you. It felt strange to take something from you."

"Still, I insisted."

Graham remembered, she had been very persistent and he had eventually taken the box. "You did, and then I suggested we share."

Wamil smiled quietly. "You said you were very good at sharing and told me how you had a lot of sisters."

"And then you told me about your brothers."

"So we shared that whole box and talked about what a pain it was to be the youngest of seven and be the only child of one gender. As I recall you felt you had it worse."

"Oh, I absolutely do have it worse," Graham maintained, giving Wamil a genuine smile. For a moment he didn't feel like his heart was in his stomach. He felt dizzy as she continued to look up at him, he wanted badly to rearrange himself and get a hold of his wits, but he couldn't. Wamil would never have to sing a song to grab hold of him, she could do it with her presence. She came closer, her eyes lingering on his mouth and he knew she was thinking about kissing him. He wanted her to, prayed that she would, and at the same time prayed that she wouldn't.

"Wamil," he said, pausing her from moving any closer. "This won't lead to anything—"

"I know what this is going to lead to," Wamil whispered, her lips gently brushing against his. He felt a blaze of fire course through him at the contact. It overwhelmed his senses and dulled the voice in his head shouting for him to stop.

He kissed her harder, pulling her close and tangling his hand in her hair. He thought about all the times he had wanted to do this. His first real fantasy had been about her and here he was actually holding her in his arms and she was kissing him exactly like he had imagined. She had him up against a desk and was quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt, as though she too feared that this was going to go away. He wondered how long she had wanted this and if it was as long as him. Her hands were still cold as they touched his bare chest. He covered them with one of his, to warm them for what he hoped was to come, but quickly pulled his hand back when he felt a sharp prick.

Wamil yanked her hand back behind her before he could get a good look at her transformation. He watched as she very clearly tried to get a handle on the rest of herself. He had never seen what a siren had looked like before this, and had a feeling he wasn't getting the full picture, only a small glimpse. Her skin had scaled in some areas, her hands had talons where fingernails should have been and her teeth were sharp enough to rip out his throat if she chose.

"This-this happens," Wamil stammered, her appearance regulating.

"Sporadically?" Graham asked a bit breathless from their activities before.

"No, no," Wamil shook her head, her cheeks continuing to red. "Just during... during—" she looped her finger in the air and Graham quickly understood.

"Oh. Oh!" Graham repeated, understanding a bit more. "So, uh, you've—" he did the same movement with his finger that she had. "Before?" Wamil nodded. "The Ravenclaw?" Graham asked, frowning curiously. She hesitated, but nodded. He was a bit surprised by that. He didn't think that he was a very attractive guy. Graham had also always found him incredibly annoying and he didn't think jealousy had played into these opinions.

"Does it bother you?" Wamil asked, her eyes searching his face carefully.

Graham ran a hand through his hair. "It would be pretty hypocritical of me to be bothered by your conquests. I just was surprised. I didn't think your relationship with him was very passionate. You two hardly held hands. I don't think I ever saw you two kiss either."

Wamil frowned. "I was talking about my changing form." She pushed the opening of her shirt together more so he couldn't see as much. "I know it can be shocking. It-it bothered David. I think it's the main reason why he broke it off. He's muggleborn and I had never told him what I was. He didn't even know about sirens. He told me about children's tales of mermaids and described how they were pictured in cartoons. He found out like this not just what I was, but what a siren looks like. I think it really scared him the first time. I mean, I know it did. My point is if it bothers you—"

"He scares too easily," Graham interrupted.

"That's not fair. It's understandable," she said quietly, her eyes casting down to the floor. "He didn't want to be with something like—"

"Someone," Graham corrected. Wamil looked up at him and he realized he was so angry he was shaking. "He didn't want to be with someone like you. You are not a thing. You are a person." He pulled her back to him so his arms were around her. "I am not scared of you. I am scared for you."

He pulled her hands away from the buttons of her shirt and kissed her chest up to her neck, dragging his tongue and biting down on what he pleased, aware she was slowly changing form again. It really didn't bother him, if anything he was more aroused by it. He pulled away so he could take her in.

"You are one of the most powerful beings in this school, Wamil," he stated gently, running a finger against the hard scales that now covered vital parts of her, her body knowing what orgeons to shield by instinct. "And you're stronger than I could ever imagine. People fear you because they know that they are small in comparison. That's why David broke up with you, that's why he was scared when he saw you like this."

"I don't think that's very fair. I didn't tell him and he tried. He really did. It just—"

"I don't need to try," Graham pointed out, pulling her even closer so she could feel that. She seemed a bit shocked by his excitement, but didn't pull away. "I love you, Wamil. All of who you are, not just parts."

She bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling to stop the tears from brimming over her eyes. "You know I love you too, even with the Mark. I love you, that's why I didn't turn you in."

Graham let out a sigh and bent his head down. "This is not the same as my Mark."

"No, no it's not," Wamil agreed, unable to fight the tears she held back. "But I understand why you took it. I don't agree with it and I still hope that you will see there's another path. But you are who I always thought you were, Graham. And I'm so relieved. I was scared I invented you in my mind."

Graham wasn't sure what to say. He didn't know who she thought he was. He wanted to ask, but he was scared of the answer, scared he fell short of the man she imagined.

"I'm only going to get you for tonight, aren't I?"

Graham nodded. He didn't see a way that this could be different, at least not a way that would keep everyone safe. He wanted to say something foolish like 'you will always have my heart' or some other rubbish, but it felt too strange, even if it was true.

"Okay," Wamil accepted, her disappointment slipping through.

"You can change your mind," Graham reminded.

"And never be together?"

"It would be less painful," Graham said quietly.

"I think never being together would be more painful. At least we could have one night. Be us for one night. You could love me for one night."

Graham swallowed. "Yes."

Wamil laughed nervously and kissed him. "So we'll have a night then."

"And some morning," Graham smiled, trying to not let her see how much this was killing him.

She laughed sadly and kissed him. She was still crying and this all felt more like a goodbye than a coming together. He held her and realized that he had just made everything infinitely harder, but he couldn't bring himself to let her go. One night did seem better than none at all. Even if they would pay for it with a lifetime of pain and longing.


	94. Chapter 94

Graham shook as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. He could feel Wamil watching his every move and he was nervous to even take a breath. What he did, what they had done last night it was a mistake. And the weight of it was bearing down on him with the morning light.

"Graham?"

Graham closed his eyes at the uneasiness in Wamil's voice. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell her what he was thinking: that this was all a mistake, a moment of weakness on his part. No, that would be cruel and the last thing he wanted was to be cruel to her.

"Graham," Wamil repeated, coming over to him and placing a concerned hand on his shoulder.

"I have to go," he said solemnly, unable to bring himself to look at her.

There was a long silence. "That's it?" Wamil asked tearfully.

Graham swallowed and forced himself to look at her. "I can't stay here any longer. I fear I've stayed too long as it is." She didn't understand, or maybe she did understand. It was hard to know what the girl in front of him was thinking.

"You don't have to go."

There it was. He knew this was coming, what he didn't know was how he would feel when it came. He was going to be sick. Panic was now flooding through him. What he had done had opened a door, a door he thought had closed the night he took the Mark. In this moment right now he could choose a different path, he could choose Wamil.

"I do," he whispered.

"No," Wamil pleaded, shaking her head and moving so he had to look at her. "You do not. You could stay here with me and we could talk to someone and fix this. You do not have to let that Mark define you. We could—"

"Please don't make this harder," Graham begged, the cracks in his foundation already splitting further.

"Why not?" Wamil challenged defiantly. "Maybe it should be harder for you. Doing what's right isn't easy, it's hard. It's a hard choice each moment of every day. Do you think I'm not scared? I'm not stupid and naïve enough to not be frightened of what is coming. You offered me a way out, a chance to be safe. Do you know why I burned those damn papers? It wasn't just because of you, it was because some part of me wanted them."

Graham took a step back as she cornered him. "I am choosing what is right, and I know it's scary, but I will be here. We can go down this road together and, if it ends quickly, it ends, but at least we were down the road we wanted to be on."

Graham looked down at their hands intertwined. She was holding onto him so tight he was starting to not be able to feel the tips of his fingers.

"Being with you feels right," he murmured quietly. "Loving you feels right." Wamil nodded. "But choosing you, choosing... everything else—" he settled on "—doesn't feel right." Wamil's hand dropped away from his. "I gave Draco and Graces my word. I promised her that I would marry her. I—"

"You don't love her!" Wamil scowled. "I doubt she wants to marry someone who is in love with someone else. I—"

"She doesn't love me and she's in love with someone else," Graham said patiently. "We are not discussing marriage because we want to be married." Graham swallowed. "We are discussing marriage because a time is coming when her last name will be her death sentence. And I have offered her my last name as salvation."

Wamil fell silent at his words and stared at him waiting for more.

"I offered it, they didn't ask, I offered."

"Why?"

Graham tried to remember his reasoning, it seemed like years ago not months. "I told Draco it was for my family's standing. Her dowry, her last name associated with mine, but it was more than that. I had been around her for years and never given her a second thought. She was just there: a part of my house, a part of my team, someone that I wouldn't call a friend, but I didn't dislike. Then she was... she was more."

"You liked her?"

"A little, but no that wasn't the reason. At least not all of it." Graham fell silent for a moment and debated whether he should continue. "Graces almost died in October. She-she did something stupid... and very brave. Something recklessly brave," he whispered, his throat growing tight as he remembered. "Do you remember when the Higgs were killed?"

Wamil nodded her face showing her confusion.

"Thomas and that baby were not going to be spared. It was never in the Dark Lord's plans to let them live. Thomas was called before him, to declare allegiance, but he knew that Thomas wouldn't mean it. How could he have? His family had been murdered at the Dark Lord's order. I overheard my uncle's private conversation regarding it and I told Graces, I warned her what was going to happen."

"I shouldn't have told her," Graham admitted aloud, the disgust he had with himself evident. "I never should have told her. I didn't know her," Graham explained, as if Wamil would understand any of this. "I knew she wouldn't let Thomas and that child be killed, but I thought she would use her money or name to save them. I always thought of her and Draco as spoiled brats. I didn't know them," he repeated quietly.

"I didn't know she would go to the Dark Lord herself. I never thought that Graces Malfoy would stand in front of a monster like him and without a second thought put her life in jeopardy for someone that could never benefit her. They tortured her, beat her and then left her on the brink of death for days." Graham was silent for a few moments, remembering how Graces had come back to Hogwarts and the days that followed. "I did that."

"No," Wamil whispered, coming close to him. "No you didn't, you—"

"No, I did," Graham maintained, shrugging her away. "I could have told someone else, or I could have stood up for Thomas myself. I don't know why it never occured to me, self-preservation maybe."

"So you offered to marry her out of guilt?" Wamil asked unsurely.

Graham shook his head. "No, I asked her because it felt right." He looked up at met Wamil's eyes. "It felt right to help her, to try and keep her safe after what she had done." Graham rubbed his eyes. "So my question is this, what's right? Letting Graces Malfoy die? After all that she had done, should I go back on my word? And what do I say to Draco? My best friend. Sorry mate, I know I swore I would keep her safe, but I've changed my mind?"

Wamil didn't seem to have an answer, but Graham could see her searching for one.

"I've chosen what I can live with, Wamil. I can't live with my sisters dying, or my nieces and nephews. And I can't live with Graces Malfoy dying when I have the power to help her." He moved towards the door, reaffirmed in his choice being what was right. It hurt just as bad as he imagined it would and it almost shattered him completely when he heard Wamil's soft voice say after him.

"You can live without me."

He stood outside the door after he left the room, staring at the wood and realizing he had just closed the door on probably the best thing that life had to offer him. He had given her up as she begged for him not to. It was a horrible feeling standing on the outside of a life that could have been, knowing that if he just reopened that door he may be able to salvage his own happiness. He backed away from the door purposely, giving it a final look before turning around and abandoning that road completely.

He felt numb walking through the silent halls of the castle. He never could have deserved Wamil anyways, not after all that he had done. His thoughts kept lapsing back to the night they had spent together and all they had talked about. Well, all Wamil had talked about. He couldn't bring himself to disclose much, his end of the conversation was more silent. Talking about his father was too painful, considering his father didn't even acknowledge him as his son anymore. He spoke a bit about his sisters, but couldn't continue feeling guilty for risking their life. And Arella and his nephews were still a topic he couldn't touch.

"Mr. Montague."

Graham jumped, torn abruptly from his thoughts and turned around to see McGonagall at the end of the hall, staring over at him. He stared back and something cold gripped his insides. She wasn't looking at him as a student that needed to be chastised. She was looking at him with quiet speculation. And he could tell, even from this distance, she was for the first time seeing him for what he may be.

He couldn't move and could barely breathe as she slowly walked closer, her hand at her side in a way that told him she was prepared for an attack. He forced himself to not instinctively do as she was and take a defensive stance.

"What are you doing out of bed?" the older woman asked, her steely gaze never flinching away from him as she stopped a few feet short, enough space to keep her distance in a physical altercation, but near enough she could best him in a magical.

"I just needed some air, Professor. It's been a difficult time," he rasped wearily, shocked at how his throat could dry up so quickly before this woman and be so steady in front of the Dark Lord.

McGonagall's lips tightened, but no softness came to her face. She knew. It was written all over her face. He wondered if the attack on Graces had been the final straw for her. Nott was in her classes, her pupil and he was a Death Eater. Right under her nose.

"Lift the left arm of your robe."

"Why?" Graham asked, he hoped he just sounded offended, but he had a feeling panic was mixed into his voice as well.

"You know why."

Graham swallowed. He knew his only option was to run, because it wasn't in him to fight her. For all that he was he could never bring himself to fight the woman in front of him. She was possibly the person he respected the most in this world. But he didn't run, for whatever reason his feet refused to move. Maybe because he knew that one could never outrun a lioness. So he reached for the black sleeve of his robes.

"Professor," Wamil's quiet voice intruded, making both Graham and McGonagall turn. "He was with me," Wamil murmured, her cheeks turning scarlet as she pushed her robes closer around her.

The older woman's brows both lifted in surprise and she turned back to Graham with a look of shock and slow understanding. Graham opened his mouth to deny it and then shut it. She knew. Years ago he had walked into this woman's classroom and nervously asked what would happen if he was disowned from his family. What he could expect from the school, if he had nowhere to go. McGonagall had stared silently at him for a long time before asking why he was worried about such a thing.

He didn't tell her who he was wanting to ask to the ball, but he had explained his family would find his choice not only inappropriate, but unacceptable. And from there they had a long talk, not just about his personal beliefs and how they differ from his family, but if he really wanted to possibly live without his family, friends, and even be ostracized in his own house. In the end she had told him that whatever he needed she would ensure he had, but nothing had ever come of it. When she saw him at the ball alone he had barely looked her in the eye.

She had approached him a few days later and quietly said it was okay. That she understood why he had decided not to. She had thought he chickened out. 'She already had a date,' Graham had mumbled, not willing to say more on the matter, just not wanting her to think him a coward.

The affection he harbored for this woman was still strong. He never would be able to look at her as just another Professor. He had a feeling she thought a lot of him as well. All of this was probably the main reason McGonagall wanted to help him get a job at the Ministry. She thought he would be a man to inspire change, someone that would fight against pureblood hatred at the ground level. He turned away, hating himself even more for betraying himself.

"I think the two of you need to follow me," McGonagall said, walking past Graham in the direction of her office.

"We weren't together. She's lying," Graham said abruptly.

"Why would she do that?" McGonagall asked patiently, clearly just wanting to see what Graham's answer would be.

Graham ground his teeth, but couldn't think of an answer. "We couldn't have been together," Graham whispered. "Because I'm a Montague, and Montagues don't sleep with anyone who isn't pure. I couldn't have been with her because being with her means that I don't have a family anymore. I never slept with her because I am engaged to Graces Malfoy, and the gods know that she couldn't suffer such a betrayal."

He walked away, ignoring McGonagall's calls to him. He heard her coming behind him and walked quickly to the Slytherin common room. He didn't know what he was doing, why he thought he could run from this, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He was panicking like a child. As though going to his room and sullenly refusing to talk would do anything. He darted to the door of the common room and almost laughed hysterically at the sight of Graces looking as though she herself was just about to enter.

"Graham?" she whispered, her eyes furrowed. He must have looked as panicked as he felt, because she hurried forward and took his hand in hers. "Graham, are you okay? What's wrong?"

When McGonagall caught up she stopped short at the sight of them. Graces hands clutching his as her worried expression turned to the other woman then back to him.

"What's going on?" she asked unsurely, looking between them. It was perfect, in the saddest of ways. It was perfect that Graces was there. Her frail body and sunken eyes looking at both of them so unsurely. McGonagall would never say a word now. She would be too frightened of what Graces would do. Unstable. Unstable was the word thrown around that hospital wing all through the days after Graces attack and McGonagall herself had worried about how much she could take. He had heard her yelling at Snape outside the hospital wing, McGonagall knew something was wrong.

Graham looked at McGonagall. It was her move. The older woman glared at him for a moment before walking up to Graces. "I caught Mr. Montague out in the halls past curfew—" She hesitated for a brief moment before continuing, "—with Miss Sunder."

Graces face took on this distant look as she stared up at the professor. There was no mistaking what the older woman was alluding to and Graces was never one to feign stupidity. She turned to him next, her face still unreadable.

"To end things?" she asked, her voice clipped and calm.

Graham must have made some sound of confirmation, he wasn't sure because his heart was pounding so fast he could hear the blood rushing to his ears.

Graces swallowed hard. "So long as I hear no more of it." She took her hands from him and nodded to the professor and moved to leave.

"Miss Malfoy," McGonagall said quietly.

"I do not wish to talk or hear about this any further," Graces proclaimed, her body shaking as she kept her back to the both of them. "As far as I am concerned none of this happened and I am counting on discretion on both your parts to ensure I will not need to hear about it again." She turned and Graham wondered at how much Graces was acting and how much truth was there. "Graham and I are convenient. We are not meant to be, but supposed to be. I will not fault him. What's done is done and now we will move on."

Graces motioned for Graham to come to her. She took his arm and looked up at him, her eyes more understanding than he was with himself. The professor didn't say another word as they entered the quiet of their common room. Graces continued to look at him long after the doors shut and suddenly Graham realized she was out late as well.

"Longbottom?" Graces bit her lower lip and looked away. "I thought that was over."

"As did I."

"It needs to be over, Graces."

"You don't exactly have the higher ground here, Montague," Graces pointed out, her gray eyes looking as hard as iron.

"How do you think this is all going to end?" Graham asked, at a loss to comprehend why Graces with everything that had happened would take such a risk.

"How do **_you_** think it will all end?" Graces asked spitefully.

"It already has," Graham proclaimed, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. Graces frowned and he cleared his throat. "It's over."

Graces looked like she wanted to ask more, but before she could Draco came into the room. Graham and her both jumped back from one another as Draco paused looking at them and finished clipping his watch to his wrist for the day.

"Are you both just getting in?" he asked a little too casually, adjusting his robes.

Graces and Graham both stood silent; waiting for the other to answer. Draco raised an eyebrow. "No." "Yes." They both declared in unison, both gaping at the other for saying the wrong answer.

"Okay," Draco mouthed, deciding that they could have their secrets and moving past them to go to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Draco," Graham began following him.

"I don't need the details," Draco muttered waving his hand dismissively. Graham looked like he would continue to protest, but Graces nudged his arm and shook her head. Draco left and it was the two of them again.

"This may be best," Graces said. "If he thinks that we're—"

"Best for whom?" Graham asked accusedly. "I don't particularly want to lie to Draco. I don't want him to think we are together when we most certainly are not."

Graces took a deep breath. "So you want him to know about you and Sunder?" Graham glared hatefully at her. "I thought so. Why don't we make a deal, Graham? I don't say anything about you and Sunder and you grant me and Neville the same courtesy."

"I meant what I said Graces, if you two are found out—"

"Yeah, I know," Graces cut him off. "Should I do the same for you?"

Graham closed his eyes and hated himself for making the same mistakes as the girl in front of him.

"How long is this going to go on, Graces? How long do you think it can? Merlin's wand, why not at least tell Draco?"

"You and I both know it is better that Draco not know," she reminded, crossing her arms in front of her.

"What I know is that you cannot continue to do this. Sometimes we have to make hard decisions, Graces. And you never do. It's like you think you are the exception to every rule. You never want to sacrifice anything, you want everything. This won't be like that," Graham warned. "You are going to have to make a choice and pay for the choice you make."

"I know a choice needs to be made," Graces said slowly, her eyes holding his.

Graham frowned for a moment. "Draco needs to be your choice, Graces. You know that right? That Draco is your choice and that to choose anyone over your brother, even someone that is right, would be a wrong choice. You know that right?"

People began to trickle out into the common room before Graces could answer him. She walked away to go up to her dorm room and Graham stood there with a worse feeling in his gut than when he had been caught.


	95. Chapter 95

"This doesn't need to be awkward," Draco said with a pointed look. Thomas glanced up from his breakfast, but then quickly went back to staring at his bacon. "I just don't understand why you two didn't say you were seeing one another."

Thomas risked a look over at Graham whose jaw seemed to be so tight that it seemed as if his teeth were at risk of cracking under the pressure. Graces said nothing, but at least had the decency to look at Draco as he continued to talk with them. Really, everyone should have been expecting this. Draco was the first to breakfast and instead of eating and then whisking off, he stayed and waited for them to come down.

"I just don't understand why it has to be a secret," Draco repeated, becoming increasingly more sour as both Graces and Graham didn't speak. "This is a good thing. We all like one another and—" Draco paused awkwardly as though he wasn't sure what else to say "—it's a good thing."

"Because Graham's appropriate?" Graces asked bitterly, taking a bite of some toast.

"It's a plus, but no. It's a good thing because, well, I like Graham. He's a good guy and it's just good." Graham scowled and looked over at Draco before deciding he didn't want to be apart of the conversation afterall and returning to his breakfast. Draco continued to sit looking increasingly more uncomfortable and flustered. He seemed to want to say more, but didn't have any words.

"Did you not tell me because you thought I would be jealous?" Draco asked, before adding. "Because you didn't want me to feel left out or like the third wheel?"

It was then that Graham threw his utensils loudly on his plate and stood up. He looked as though he were about to yell at Graces. Thomas and Draco stared wide-eyed and waited for a string of vicious insults, but instead Graham pointed accusingly at Graces across the table as though to say this was her fault before storming off with both hands clenched tightly into fists. Graces face drained of color, but she offered no explanation.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" Draco demanded.

"We are quarreling," Graces replied simply.

"Why are you quarreling?" Draco asked, his patience already too thin.

"It's private," Graces shrugged, abandoning her toast all together and drinking some pumpkin juice.

Thomas wanted to sneak away from this immensely awkward situation, but he was worried that the slightest movement may set Draco off. He was still in shock to find out that Graham and Graces were dating, he had no idea. When Graces was in the hospital wing after the attack Graham was worried for her, but it seemed he was more worried about Draco.

And when she woke up all of his anger was confirmed. He had yelled at her as she laid there in a hospital bed, bellowed that she was selfish and stupid, that she didn't give a damn about anyone else but herself. He had made sure that she knew exactly how much pain she had caused Draco and all of them when she had chosen to stab herself and Thomas was sure that he would have said more if Draco hadn't kicked him out of the hospital wing.

Thomas was surprised that Draco even forgave him for everything he had said. But Draco did, in no time at all it had seemed, Draco had laid all of his harsh words to rest. He didn't even seem to want to discuss it. Thomas wondered if that was because Draco understood Graham's feelings or if it was because Draco couldn't bear to stay mad at the older boy.

"I think whatever you're quarreling about you could tell me."

"Graham's very private," Graces stated, as though that was explanation enough.

"Why do I feel like you are lying to me?"

"C-cause sh-she is," Thomas muttered under his breath. Graces glared at him and he was quick to go back to trying to be invisible, but it was too late. He had already entered into the dysfunction.

"Really?" Graces asked.

Thomas' could feel his face going red. He knew what Graces had done for him, that he should have given her his undying loyalty no matter if she was deserving of it in the moment, but for some reason he couldn't seem to not say something. He loved Graces, but she was absent from their lives, and she had been for quite some time. She was so absent that they didn't even realize that she wasn't well. It took a dagger in her stomach for them to realize just how unwell she was. Is.

"You. Are." He said carefully, looking over and meeting Draco's eyes from across the table.

Graces' lips pressed into a fine line before she declared that she needed to get to class.

"Do you have any suggestions," Draco asked quietly.

He shook his head. Thomas stared down at his uneaten breakfast and remembered all the times he had wished he could have sat at the adult table during family events. He imagined it as this elaborate thing, being able to converse with his uncles and dad like an adult and not like a child. He would have opinions and they would listen. Now that he was at the adult table, he didn't like it.

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Graces looked over the letter Professor Sprout gave her from McGonagall another time, before making her way to the Greenhouse five where her and Neville were working on their class project together. She passed the now usual whispers that followed in her wake from other classmates. She concentrated on keeping her eye focused, a difficult task when all it wanted to do was look to where the whispers were coming from.

All curious about what really happened that night that put her in the hospital wing and ended with Theodore Nott being arrested. That was without mentioning her eye. The whole school knew the one she had now was fake, and if they hadn't learned it from the rumor mill, they realized it when she would lose control of it randomly in class. It still took time for her to adjust to the new appendage and while she was getting good at controlling it, it wasn't second nature yet.

"Curious thing," she said, as a way of greeting to Neville.. "McGonagall invited me to dinner tonight."

Neville frowned and stopped tending to the branch of the whomping willow he had cut for their final project.

"That is curious," Neville finally said. "Do you know why?"

"I think I do," Graces stated, rolling her eyes and plopping in the chair next to Neville in a very undignified manner. "I think she's going to try to talk to me about boys."

Neville snorted. "I highly doubt that."

Graces raised a brow and then looked around to make sure there was no one around. It appeared no one was, the rest of the class were mostly doing their projects by the lake or by the forbidden forest and the ones that were doing them in the Greenhouses were using Greenhouses one and two since there was more space in there.

"She caught Graham with Sunder last night."

Neville frowned, obviously not understanding what that was supposed to mean.

"You know, _she caught them._ "

"Caught them?" Neville repeated, his mind still not connecting the dots, before his eyes widened. Graces nodded when she saw that Neville understood.

"Yep."

"Oh," Neville said, a little taken aback. "What does that have to do with you though?"

"She thinks we are engaged," Graces flushed.

"Why does she think that?" Neville frowned.

Graces pinked. "I, uh. Well, both Graham and I may have made it out that way." She waited to see Neville's reaction to this, but Neville just cleared his throat and folded his hands as if to silently say 'of course, continue'. "Anyways, she thinks that Graham is cheating on me and that I'm okay with it as long as he continues to be discreet."

Neville's eyebrows almost shot up to his hairline and he for a moment forgot about the whomping willow branch until it snapped at him as he absently leaned on the table.

"I don't understand. We were together last night. How did all this happen last night?" Neville asked.

"Well, last night and this morning," Graces explained all that happened including Draco finding her and Graham together in the common room and their horrible breakfast this morning.

Neville shook his head and turned back to their project. "You're going to have an interesting dinner tonight."

"I don't think I'm going to go."

"Can you do that? Just decide not to go?"

"She invited me and I plan to decline."

Neville nodded and went back to working on the whomping willow branch. Graces didn't say anything as she worked beside him. The silence felt heavy and she didn't know if it was because Neville was thinking or because there wasn't anything to say and it just felt unfinished. She scowled and wondered if it felt unfinished because she wanted Neville to have an opinion. She walked to the other side of the table so that Neville was across from her. He was working to get the whomping willow more under control and Graces took the time to study Neville's face to see if she could get a read on him.

Neville looked up and was a little startled to see her across the table. He obviously hadn't realized she had moved and was watching him. "What?"

"I feel like you want to say something," Graces stated.

"And you didn't want to say 'what do you think? Should I go?' to find out?"

Graces flushed.

Neville gave a small laugh. "Slytherins."

"Shut up," Graces snipped, unable to not smile. They stood there for a moment both wanting to soak in that moment. A moment where they both felt normal and happy.

"I think you should go." Graces eyed him over the table. "I think—" Neville paused and licked his lips. "I know you don't trust anyone to help you, but McGonagall is different. No, she really is," Neville insisted gently.

"I can't—"

"I'm not asking you to talk to her, I'm asking you to go to dinner," Neville pressed. "Just listen."

Graces tried to gather her thoughts. "I know it's been difficult lately and—"

"Difficult isn't the right word," Neville said quietly meeting her eyes. "It's too lame of a word. Too quiet."

Graces swallowed and tried to still the panic welling up in her gut. She knew things weren't good with her and Neville lately, that they were "off". What was so easy once was now just so hard, but it wasn't until this moment she felt like he may leave because of it all. They always fought, but this new silence was more devastating than anything she had ever said to him.

"Do you want to leave me?" She asked quietly.

"No."

Graces nodded. "Things haven't been difficult, they've been unbearable," she admitted, close to tears.

"Yes."

"But you don't want to leave." She didn't know if it was a statement or a question, all she knew was that she needed to hear that he wasn't going to leave.

"I am not going to leave you."

"I can't reach out to hold your hand with this—" Neville gestured to the whomping willow. "— between us. Come here."

It was foolish, but she didn't even check to make sure no one was around before rushing back around the table and into his arms. She knew that he should leave. If he were anyone else, he already would have.

"I love you," Neville said sadly. "But every day I keep your secrets I wonder if I am digging your grave. Every night you wake up screaming I consider what weakness in me is allowing you to kill yourself." He turned her chin up so she was looking at him. "And every day I realize more and more that I am so desperate for you to love me that I am letting you wither away and die."

"What? Neville, that's preposterous. That doesn't—"

Neville laid his head against hers and cradled her face in his palms, his thumbs gently brushing against her lips to silence her, as though her words were like a siren's song trying to weave a spell on him. He didn't open his eyes as he held her there, just took deep breaths as though he were going to lose his nerve if he didn't say what he wanted to say right away.

"I want more than anything to be the one to help you, but I can't be. Maybe it's because I'm only sixteen, or because I'm not bright—" Graces pulled his hands away from her to protest, but he held her firmer. "Either way I am ill equipped and you need help. So, my love, if you do not ask for it for yourself, I am going to ask for you." She could feel his tears on her cheek and she couldn't help that her own were mixing with them. "I don't want to lose you, Graces."

She wasn't sure what he meant. That he would lose her because he would betray her to get her help or lose her because he was afraid she was going mad.

"I said I would make a choice," she whimpered, holding him closer. "I just need to think. I just need time."

Neville's eyes tightened and his voice came out raspy, but firm. "I need you to make the choice to fight for yourself, Graces. If you don't, I will." When he opened his eyes she knew that he was resolved. "And I don't think you will forgive me for it."

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Minerva flaked the smoked haddock into chunks, careful to remove the bones before she added them into the soup. Graces was due to arrive any moment. She still didn't know exactly how she was going to approach her. She wasn't even sure if she should be the one to try, but this was long overdue. Something should have been done much earlier and she wondered how late is too late. Graces Malfoy was not well and every time she sat and thought about it she could see there were signs of this starting months ago: her grades dropping, her temper being shorter, her weight dropping, her lack of interest in school activities, the child's overall attitude and demeanor seemed to have changed. And yet, no one commented on it.

Well, that wasn't true. Neville had commented on it. She thought back to everything he had yelled at Harry in the hall after their fight. Neville was right to be angry, but not with Harry. She and every grown up in the school were the ones deserving of Neville's fury. They were the ones with the responsibility to help her and they had done nothing. She had promised Neville she would speak with her and she hadn't. Time and time again the adults in this girl's life were failing her. She pressed her lips together tightly determined that she wouldn't fail her again.

Graces arrived a few minutes after the soup was done cooking. McGonagall invited her to make herself comfortable as she finished up in the kitchen. She had expected the girl to take a seat at the already set small table by the fire, but Graces instead walked idly around the small living quarters.

There was something so underlyingly sad about her. McGonagall watched from the kitchen as Graces' hand gently dragged along the sofa and tables. She was pensive as she examined the objects sparsely scattered around the room. She had always thought Graces a quick girl, even when she was quiet in class she could see the gears in her mind turning. Her eyes alone held something. Watching her now was hard. The sharpness that Graces had long possessed had been replaced with weariness. Every movement seemed heavy.

"Miss Malfoy," she said gently. "Come sit."

Graces looked up from the cover a book she was examining and stared at her for a moment before taking her seat.

"Would you like a drink?" McGonagall asked, moving her hand to a pitcher that was placed on the table.

"Thank you."

The blonde continued to look around the room until her eyes stopped on a cross decorated with intricate scottish knots all throughout and a circle around the center hanging in her doorway. McGonagall watched Graces' continue to stare of it while she served the soup and bread.

"It's a cross," she said simply.

Graces turned to her with a spark of annoyance. "I know."

Of course she knew. Minerva was going to change the subject, but Graces spoke first.

"It's pretty," she noted.

"Thank you," McGonagall said slowly, a little caught off guard by the comment. "It was my father's."

Graces dipped her head slightly in a nod. "And the bible above the mantel?"

She fell silent for a moment. "That is my father's as well."

"Is?" Graces asked.

"Was. Sometimes when people pass certain items never feel like they are your own, my father's bible still feels very much like it is his." And it did. She had few memories without that bible in her father's hands or by his side. If he had been a wizard it would have been like his wand. He never went without it and in times of confusion, fearfulness, happiness he looked to it just as she held to her wand. "My father was a minister for a small presbyterian congregation. He never went anywhere without that book. Even though it is mine now, it is not mine."

"Like a wand," Graces said thoughtfully.

"Like a wand," McGonagall acknowledged, smiling slightly.

Graces held her eyes across the table as though she expected her to say something more, but turned away when nothing more came.

"Is this a stew? Or a soup?" Graces asked observing the bowl in front of her.

"It's a soup. Cullen skink, it's also known as haddock chowder."

Graces nodded and sipped a small amount from her spoon. "It's very good, thank you."

Silence settled over them as they quietly ate. McGonagall tried to think of something to talk about that was pleasant, not wanting to overwhelm Graces right at the beginning.

"Professor Sprout said you're growing a whomping willow for your end of year project."

" _Neville_ is growing a whomping willow," Graces scoffed, shaking her head. "I'm more of an assistant to his genius."

McGonagall frowned slightly at Graces' statement. "That's very high praise."

Graces flushed and shrugged her shoulders dismissively, but the action seemed false to the older woman.

"Are you a Christian?"

"What?" McGonagall asked, her thoughts being ripped from her before they could fully form.

"Your father was a minister, so are you a christian?"

Minerva wasn't sure if she wanted to discuss her personal beliefs with Graces Malfoy, but she decided to answer, considering she was going to be asking the young woman herself to share a lot. "I was raised Christian."

"Are you one now?"

"I like to believe that there is something greater."

Graces brow furrowed. "Magic isn't enough?"

"Not for me, I suppose."

Graces didn't seem to like that answer, but didn't press for more of an explanation. "Your father, he was a muggle, yes?" The older woman nodded. "Was that difficult? Being raised by a father that wasn't magical? One that believed and taught a religion that sentences us to death?"

For a moment the older woman thought Graces was baiting her, but then she realized that she was being sincere. Graces genuinely was curious for an answer.

"There were difficult moments, yes. But I don't think it had anything to do with religion. I loved my father and he loved me. I think the thing he disliked the most about magic was its secrecy. My father prided himself on being an honest man, and every day he had to lie to protect my mother and I. Only a small part of my father's religion talked of witches. The rest spoke of love and forgiveness. And I think that those two traits are what lead him to forgive my mother for not telling him what she was."

Graces stared up at her and the older woman could see there was a question behind those silver eyes, but Graces didn't ask it. Instead she chose to let the conversation die, leaving the room in loud silence.

"May I ask you a question?" McGonagall dared, taking a sip from her goblet and then putting it down. The blonde shrugged and pushed her food around her plate. "What happened to your eye?"

Graces' hold on her spoon tensed, McGonagall cursed herself for being so blatant. She should have proceeded more cautiously. Should have continued with pleasantries, maybe even had the girl come to a few dinners and earned her trust before—

"I—" Graces paused and her nostrils flared. "I once did something very brave." Graces stopped and the older woman didn't dare move less her movement stop the other girl from continuing. Graces swallowed hard. "I was brave once," she whispered. "Brave and foolish. You would have been proud," She laughed sadly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

"What did—"

"Don't speak," Graces hissed, clutching her head as though she had a headache. "Don't speak," she murmured. "I need to think. I need to think." Graces rocked slightly in her chair and seemed to be sorting her thoughts. She muttered under her breath words that made no sense and that the older woman had no way of making out. McGonagall restrained herself from reaching for her wand, but a single thought persisted. 'Graces Malfoy was not well.'

"You've done a lot of brave things, yes?" Graces asked, looking up at her and seeming to hold her breath. Minerva nodded slightly. "Did it ever break you?"

McGonagall tried to fight her impulse to frown. She was so confused as to what was happening. She knew that if she could take a moment to gather her thoughts and process what was happening, she could figure out what the girl meant and give her a good response, but she was so taken aback she took too long to answer.

"I did this brave thing and I think it broke me a bit. People don't talk about that part of doing what's right. They don't talk about what happens when sacrifice your life and you live through it. They don't tell you that you won't sleep anymore. That the people that you once felt so close to feel so very, very far away. That getting out of bed every morning will take all you have. That you will feel scared in a room where there is nothing to fear. They don't say you won't ever be you again. That you will stare at yourself in the mirror every morning and not know who it is staring back. I did a brave thing, but I'm not brave. I did a brave thing and I'm not me."

"I-I," Graces shook her head and stared down at her soup, her hair slightly coming forward shielding her face. "I'm not me."

McGonagall sat quietly gathering herself. She took a breath and prayed she approached this correctly, that she didn't scare her off before she could help her, she leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table while she fidgeted with her palms. She had known for so long that something was wrong and she did nothing. Neville had even told her something was wrong and she had promised to reach out to Graces and hadn't until this moment. The realization hit her harder and harder as every moment passed. She could have helped her days, weeks, months before even and she didn't.

She thought back to what she had seen after the war. How "touched" some of her colleagues were by what had happened, how long it took herself to come back to who she was. She had a student this traumatized and did nothing. She had a student this unbalanced and didn't even notice.

She moved over to Graces and cautiously placed a hand on her shaking form.

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Graces stood as the feeling in her stomach began to quickly move to her chest. Her tongue vibrated with nausea and she covered her mouth, but before she could control her panic she was vomiting into her palm. McGonagall, even with the shock of what was happening, was quick to pull her hair away and hurriedly lead her to the kitchen sink, the closest area to accommodate her. Graces could feel her face flush with humiliation as the older woman held her shoulders and rubbed her back as she continued to be sick in her kitchen. She closed her eyes as the final waves of nausea caused her to dry heave and wished Neville was there.

Night after night she woke from nightmares that nothing could keep at bay and night after night Neville would hold her on the bathroom floor as she was sick, placing a cold cloth on her neck while he gently massaged her back. It had become such a normal routine he wasn't even panicked anymore when she woke. He was resigned. This was their life together now and there was nothing he could do about it. How had it come to this?

"It's okay," McGonagall shushed, wiping away her tears and vomit with a towel that was by the oven. "It's okay." She had been repeating the same thing over and over again and Graces felt suffocated by the two words. It wasn't okay. Nothing was okay. She tore out of the woman's grasp and held herself as she cried, each sob felt like a defeat. She was defeated. She didn't want to be here, she didn't want to talk to her, but she didn't want to lose Neville and he was right. She couldn't forgive him if he betrayed her. So she had to betray herself. And she was more frightened to talk to this woman than she had been standing in front of the Dark Lord.

She wanted to die. She wanted her father. She was a blood traitor. She was a liar. She was a manipulator. She had been beaten, humiliated, molested and tortured. She had been wrong. Her whole life she had been wrong. She was racist and hateful. And she loved Neville Longbottom, but she was too much of a coward to admit it.

It wasn't until shards of glass from the window in McGonagall's sitting room pierced her skin that Graces realized she had screamed all this. She froze as her bloody palm met with the cold night air and pointed edges of remaining glass pricked her wrist in warning to not move. McGonagall looked paralyzed for a moment, before she quickly hurried over to her.

"I-I'm sorry," Graces whispered mortified, as the professor gently guided her shaking hand safely out of harm's way. The older woman didn't reply, she seemed to still be processing everything Graces had declared. She stood there holding Graces arm and hand, looking at the damage but not seeing it.

"I don't know where to begin," she said after a while, more to herself than to Graces.

Graces let out a long, grieving sound, almost like a sob, before the tears came breathlessly. "Just help me," she begged, dropping to her knees and laying her head against her professor's robes. "Help me."


	96. Chapter 96

Neville had been surprised, to say the least, when a silver patronus had sleekly run up to him in the 6th year boys' dorm. He was even more surprised to hear his Head of House's voice come from the wispy cat and instruct him to meet her in her chambers. He hadn't even bothered to properly dress. He grabbed a robe and a pair of shoes, shoes that were a bit too formal for his striped maroon and gold pajamas, and left Gryffindor Tower without even a glance at his roommates. Neville's steps echoed against the quiet of the castle and he was beginning to feel a little sick to his stomach as he followed the cat through the corridors, always a few inches from stepping on it.

He was scared, he didn't know why, but he was. Even without being told why he was summoned, he knew it had to do with Graces. He had meant what he said—if she didn't ask for help he would do it for her. This couldn't go on anymore. Things had never gotten better after the hospital. Every day she seemed to deteriorate more. They weren't fighting, in fact they had seemed to settle into this quiet routine. Once the castle was asleep they would sneak away to each other, lay in bed and hold one another while they talked about their day, until they fell asleep.

It sounded sweet until you knew the intimate details of it all. Like how when he laid down with her he would feel her against him and wonder how much more weight she could possibly lose. Or that when she rested her head on his chest she would sometimes stare off into the distance and he didn't know where she went. She woke up screaming and ill each night. She had even admitted to him once that she had dreamed of him. He had been surprised to hear that he was in those dreams. But she never told him what happened to him in them. He had an idea, though. She would tell him what happened to Draco, Thomas and her parents on nights she dreamed of them.

And they never had sex, which was a brief afterthought to everything, but since he was thinking of all the things wrong he figured he should throw it in. Lack of physical intimacy didn't bother him, but what did was that the one time they had, Graces had not denied him, she was—he didn't know—compliant? Whatever she had been it didn't feel right, so they didn't. He couldn't. Then she had apologized and promised to be better which made it even worse than before.

When he arrived at McGonagall's door the cat jumped forward, disappearing into the wood, and the door immediately swung open to reveal his Head of House. There was a mixture of sadness and discomfort as McGonagall stared up at him and it made Neville's heart skip a few beats. The older woman swallowed hard and stepped aside, silently inviting him in.

Neville entered and nervously looked around the room before his eyes found Graces sitting on a sofa by the fire, her forehead resting in her palms while she looked down unseeing. He turned to McGonagall, but the older woman gave no sign to him of what was going on. Without much insight as to what was occuring he tentatively walked towards Graces, careful not to appear too familiar with her, and took a seat beside her on the sofa— keeping a distance that would be appropriate. Graces looked up at him tears gleaming off her cheeks and hiccuped a sob before reaching out for his hand with hers. After a moment of shock Neville took it and looked up at McGonagall for a brief moment before moving closer to Graces.

"I said too much," Graces sobbed hiding her face in her other hand. "I said too much."

Neville blinked and tried to make sense of everything which was increasingly difficult with his Head of House standing in the corner watching their interaction.

"I-I'm sure that's not true," Neville said lamely. Graces groaned and shook her head. Neville inched closer and hesitantly put an arm around her, expecting the blonde to recoil. But no recoil came, if anything the blonde sank more into him.

"Graces," Neville said gently. "Whatever you said I know it wasn't too much and I know that she will only want to help you."

Neville was still awkwardly holding her with one arm as Graces began to cry in braying sobs. He was still trying to figure out how he was allowed to react towards her when Graces turned into him and put her arms tightly around his neck as she let her tears soak into his nightshirt so the spot right under his chin felt like a mixture of damp heat and cloth. He looked over at his Head of House nervously, before pulling Graces closer to him and winding one hand through her hair and gently kissing the top of her head. He closed his eyes and let her cling to him as he held her silently until her tears began to taper off.

"I'm going to get some biscuits for the table," McGonagall said calmly, walking towards the kitchen and allowing them some privacy. She looked at Neville as though she wanted to say something, but no words came.

"Graces," he whispered, moving her away from him so he could look at her. "What did you say?"

"She knows," Graces said hoarsely.

"What does she know?" Neville asked, taking both her hands in his.

"She knows... about us," Graces said weakly, her eyes turning away with guilt.

"Okay," Neville nodded, as though this were a small, minute thing.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Neville said firmly, giving her a small smile. "I'm not at all. What else did you tell her?"

Graces shook her head. "I don't know. I-I didn't mean to say anything, I—"

"She told me very little," McGonagall interrupted, a silver tray of biscuits slowly setting itself down on the small coffee table before them as well as a decanter of firewhiskey with three glasses of clinking ice. Neville was caught a bit off guard as his Professor poured a generous amount into one glass and held it out to him. He looked unsurely at the amber liquid, as if it may be a trick, but after a moment he hesitantly accepted the glass. Graces took hers with no hesitation and Neville watched as she took a few calming sips. It wasn't until Graces was half way through her drink and McGonagall was done with her first and pouring a second that he allowed himself a nervous taste.

McGonagall leaned back in her chair with her second glass and seemed visibly more at ease. She stared at the two of them for a moment, before leaning back up. "How did this happen?" she asked gesturing to the two of them sitting side by side.

Graces and Neville exchanged a few awkward glances, each unsure of what was appropriate before Graces answered "With a few bottles firewhisky."

Neville was glad he hadn't been drinking at that moment, because he absolutely would have spit it out. McGonagall seemed to find the comment quite amusing which Neville was sure pleased Graces' twisted sense of humor. He took a few long sips of his own drink—now not at all shy about it— just exceptionally grateful to have it.

"And _when_ did that occur?" McGonagall asked pointedly.

"September," Neville answered quietly. "A bit after we had been partners in Herbology."

The older woman nodded. "So you two have been together since September?"

"No, well, I—kind of," Neville sputtered. "It's... it's complicated."

"I see," McGonagall drawled, before falling paradoxically silent. "And now?"

Graces bit her lip and looked down, leaving Neville to answer again.

"I—it's—I love her," he said gently, taking Graces hand in his and flushing a bit at telling someone else his feelings. "And Graces is—" he stopped short and chewed his lip a moment. "I love her," he repeated, allowing that to be answer enough.

The older woman stared at Graces waiting for her to say something, to add to this, but Graces pointedly continued to avoid her eyes.

"And how many people are aware of your relationship?"

Graces let a small breath of air. "Pomfrey."

"Madam Pomfrey?" McGonagall asked in shock.

"Yeah," Neville nodded. "I forgot that she knew. She, uh, she figured it out. Luna also knows," Neville added, before McGonagall could ask how Pomfrey figured it out.

"Potter," Graces listed quietly.

"Harry?" Neville asked as if there were any other Potter, his voice breaking in surprise.

Graces nodded and avoided his eyes. "You two were constantly fighting," Graces said tiredly. "I hated it. You weren't going to have any friends with how you were going about. You bloody punched him in the Great Hall, Neville. Harry was never going to stop spying on me without the truth. So I told him."

"Okay, but— but why didn't you tell _me_ you told him."

Graces shrugged. "I didn't want you to be so hopeful."

Neville through a hand up. "I don't even know what that means."

"It doesn't matter," Graces dismissed. Clearly closing the topic.

Neville scowled, but decided here wasn't the place to argue. "Hermione knows," he admitted quietly, mentally preparing for how Graces was going to react.

"What," Graces gaped. "What—when—how?"

"I don't even want to tell you all that surrounds that, but she knows."

"Did you tell her?" Graces accused, her temper flaring.

"I did not."

"Then how—"

"She spied on us," Neville sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Even if she did, we couldn't have done anything that was damning, we—"

"She knows, trust me, she knows."

"She couldn't possibly, Neville," Graces argued, more in denial than anything. "We're careful. We—"

"She followed us on the weekend of Valentine's Day," Neville said slowly, not wanting to say more than that. The color drained from Graces' face and she stood there with her mouth gaped in horror.

"What— what part?"

"All."

Graces looked as though she were going to be sick. "All?" she asked helplessly.

Neville looked up at her despondently. The anger he expected, but he didn't expect this. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea—"

Neville stopped trying to explain as Graces' face crumbled and she began crying. "She's going to tell," Graces sobbed, sucking in a deep breath only to lose it again with another cry. "Oh gods, oh gods, we have to go. We need to go."

"Go?" Neville scowled.

"You said you would run away with me," Graces reminded, standing as though she were going to run and pack her bags right that instant. "You said—"

"No one is going anywhere," McGonagall proclaimed, bringing attention back to the fact that she was there.

Graces stared at the woman for a moment before turning her eyes back to Neville. He stared at her silently pleading for him to take her away, to side with her in this insanity. He didn't understand it, he couldn't make sense of her reaction, but he knew that she was desperate. Desperate enough to want to run away and to want him to go with her.

"Remember when you used to beg me to go to your safe house? Remember you said you would keep me and mine safe? Well, I want to go. Neville, please."

"Because Hermione knows? Now you want to run? Graces, that doesn't make sense," Neville said, dismayed at the idea.

"Neville, are you aware of how dangerous your and Miss Malfoy's relationship is?" McGonagall asked carefully, looking over at Graces for a moment and then back to him.

Neville's brow furrowed slightly and he looked to Graces for answers, but Graces was now focused on the older woman. A hateful, despairing expression sweeping over her face.

"I'm aware she will be disowned," Neville swallowed. "Which is why we've been so careful. I don't want that."

McGonagall nodded slightly and looked to Graces as though she expected something from her.

"You can't tell him," Graces whispered shaking her head.

"Tell me what?"

"He needs to know," the older woman said firmly. "This is very serious, Graces. He should have known from the beginning."

Graces just shook her head and moved more into his chest. Hiding herself in his arms. "You promised me, Neville."

"Graces?" Neville asked hushly, looking down at her and silently pleading for an answer as fear slowly started to coil in his belly. "Graces, what are you not telling me?"

Graces looked over at the professor. "He will leave," she pleaded.

"What?" Neville scowled. "Why would you think that?" Graces shrugged and tried to avoid his eyes. "Graces," Neville said sharply, causing her to look at him. "Why do you think that I'm going to leave? Is this about earlier? I told you I wasn't—"

"You will leave over this," Graces whimpered, closing her eyes and trying to move away from him. "You're already unhappy, if you knew this then—"

"No," Neville declared.

"You are, Neville, I can tell," Graces said sadly.

Neville licked his lips and moved her so she was at arms length from him. "I am scared. I am worried for you and yes, it makes me unhappy. But I love you and I would never leave."

"Everyone has a breaking point."

"I have no breaking point when it comes to you," Neville declared savagely.

"Graces," McGonagall broke in gently "I think you need to give Neville some credit here. Trust him at his word."

Graces took a few steadying breaths and Neville— doing his best to be comforting—took her hand in his and led her back to the couch to sit. The longer Graces seemed to be trying to work up the courage to talk the harder his heart pounded in his chest.

"I-I wouldn't disowned, Neville," Graces began meeting his eyes squarely as she spoke. "I would be killed."

Neville sat there for a moment trying to make sense of what Graces was saying. The words changed strangely through his mind the longer he kept thinking of them. "What?" he asked, removing his hands from hers.

"You should have told me," he said, dull anger slowly coming into him.

"I couldn't," Graces sniffed. "I—"

"This has to end," Neville said determinedly, standing up. "This has to end."

"Neville," McGonagall began only to be cut off by Graces.

"You think I'm going to accept that?" Graces asked through her tears. "I know you love me and I know you're only doing this to protect me. You think I will let you end this? You think just because you say now it's over that it is?"

"You have to," Neville nodded. "Because I won't do this anymore. I'm not going to be the reason you die!"

"I don't tell you what's worth dying for; why do you think you get to tell me," Graces spat back angrily.

He felt sick, so violently ill and flushed with heat he was sure he was about to pass out. What was she saying? What was she even bloody saying? That he was worth dying for? _Him_?

"You should have told me," Neville said angrily between his teeth, closing his eyes so the room stopped spinning. "I never would have—all those times you wanted to end things, you wanted me to stay away, you could have told me _this_ and I would have. I—"

"I don't think I ever wanted it to end. Not really," Graces desperately tried to explain. "I knew if I told you you would have ended it. You would have thought you weren't worth it."

"I'm not," Neville moaned.

"That's for me to decide."

Neville shook his head. "No," he said weakly, still in disbelief that this was happening.

"I know you love me. So you can walk out that door, Neville, but you are still mine and I am still yours. So don't do anything stupid."

Neville pinched the bridge of his nose and willed himself to stop crying. Those were his words she just threw back at him and they were more true now than ever. He thought of all the times they had been careless, all the times they had been together. All those times he had been risking her life. Every time he had kissed her, held her, touched her, slept with her, he had been risking her life. He should have known. It was all so obvious now, how could he not have known?

The worst part was that they were so far down this rabbithole, she was right, neither of them could walk away without the other one agreeing. Him saying it was over didn't mean it was over, because the root lay in that he was leaving her because he loved her. She knew this, so she really just could not accept it.

"You don't even love me," Neville cast out bitterly.

"Let's pretend that I believe you and that I am worth it," Neville said, his own voice airy and giving tale to how ridiculous this notion was to him. "Let's pretend that I'm the best bloke in the world. The perfect guy. I mean there is no one better."

"You don't love me, Graces," Neville stressed. "Which is fine, I don't mind at all, but you don't. You have made it very clear that you just don't feel that for me. And I think we all can agree that death is not the price to pay for a man you don't love."

Graces jaw vibrated and she looked down at her hands intertwined in her lap. And Neville knew in that moment that she would agree, because even she couldn't argue with that logic.

"Oh, Neville," Graces sniffed, looking up at him and wiping away her tears. "I do love you though."

For so long he had yearned to hear those words. He imagined what life would bring if she felt the way he felt for her. He imagined that it would be perfect, she would love him and he would spend every day of his life tending to that love. Since she had declared that if 'she loved him she would choose him' he had even allowed himself, in his most quiet moments to fantasize about a life they could have together.

But when he heard it, when she actually said it, it wasn't happiness that spread through him. It was fear. Cold, like winter frost spreading through his whole body until it shot at his heart. He felt sick with the weight of it. He dissolved into sobs leaning against her knees for support as he cried helplessly into her lap. He could feel Graces' kind hands—no, not kind— _loving_ hands gently brush against the fringe of his hair as she whispered empty promises that it was all okay. But it wasn't okay. It was far from okay. He stood stiffly and turned away from her, blinded by tears and a series of emotions all too complicated to name. He moved to leave, to escape this room, to get a moment to himself where he could feel the true catastrophe of the mess he was in. Graces called out to him, but Neville shook his head. He was crying, he was scared, but he was also mad. Mad that she had kept such a vital secret from him; mad at himself for not realizing the consequences.

When he shut the door behind him and stood in the silent corridor he felt as though he were in another world. Everything felt foreign and wrong. He sat down on the cold ground and gave in to the emotions hammering into him. He should have known. All this time he should have realized how dire the consequences were, but like the fool he was he didn't see the big picture. If he had taken a step back and really looked at their situation, their world, he would have known that she would have been killed for being with him. He hated himself for not knowing. It had been a long time since Neville had felt such self-loathing for himself, but he felt it now. Like a reawoken monster was climbing up out of him to rear its ugly head.

He heard the door behind him and looked up to see his head of house mildly surprised and exasperated at seeing him sitting there in the hall not far at all from the door.

"I should have realized all this on my own," Neville said still distraught.

McGonagall stared down at him for a moment and then pressed her lips together tightly, as though she didn't trust herself to speak. Her eyes found their way back to him after a few pensive moments and Neville was surprised when she joined him in sitting on the floor.

"Neville, you have to go back in there. I know right now that you're overwhelmed—"

"Overwhelmed?" Neville repeated, laughing bitterly. "Overwhelmed? I just found out that the first time I had sex I sentenced a girl to death. Yeah, I'm overwhelmed."

There was a long silence and Neville had a feeling the silence wasn't for his benefit, but more because the woman sitting next to him didn't know what to say. That she—like him— was also at a loss.

"You're right to be angry," McGonagall sighed. "She should have told you. You had a right to know what the risks were. And you have every right to want a moment to yourself to process everything. But you don't have the luxury right now to do that, Neville. Because Graces needs you."

"I think Graces is at a moment in her life where she is deciding who she wants to be. Most of us walk a long, winding road on that journey. With a few stops and maybe a turn here and there, but always the same road. Always the same destination."

"You think she's going to change sides?" Neville asked hesitantly.

"Graces wouldn't be in my chambers asking me for help if she didn't plan on abandoning the road she was on. If she didn't plan to abandon all that her family has taught her."

Neville shook his head. "I made her go."

McGonagall smirked. "I highly doubt you can make that girl do anything she didn't want to do herself already, Neville."

Neville let out a small laugh despite himself. "What has she told you?"

McGonagall shook her head. "She said many things. She said she did something brave."

Neville wiped away a few tears from his face. "She's done quite a few brave things."

"I have no doubt." McGonagall looked out into the stones of the castle as though she could search for answers there. "I have a feeling Graces Malfoy may be one of the bravest young women I have ever met. And I don't think I know even a fraction of what she has done to get here. Judging from her scars she's survived a lot on her own. She doesn't need saving. She can save herself. The more I see of that girl the more I know that she has the valor to rise above all this. She just needs help, not saving, help."

"She's a fighter," McGonagall continued, seeming to be processing what just occurred herself. "I can tell. And, if she's anything like her father, she's a damn vicious one at that. The difference though in how you would fight and how she would fight is that she won't dive into a battle without a plan. No, she's too calculating for that. She wants to have an idea of a path before her and then she will make a move."

"And incentive," Neville murmured. He let out a breathy laugh. "Though I don't have an idea of what that incentive would be. Maybe she thinks our side could win after all."

McGonagall frowned and rose from the ground. Looking down at him and searching him for something.

"I believe you're the incentive, Mr. Longbottom."

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Graces paced around the sitting room biting her nails as she waited for someone to return. She knew Neville was going to come back, she knew that. And when he did, she was going to hex his balls off for abandoning her like this. A small, tiny voice inside her head kept raising doubt on whether or not Neville would come back, but she drowned its voice in reason. Neville loved her, she knew he did, and he wasn't going to leave her. He wasn't going to leave her because when a guy like Neville Longbottom says that they will never leave they mean it. It's not pretty words; it's the truth. So she waited and ignored that hateful voice in her head. The one that doubted what she knew to be true.

But even though she knew Neville would come back to her, her heart still stopped when he walked back into the room. And she didn't dare move, speak or breathe until she knew whether he was there to stay. He didn't move toward her and for a fraction of a second that voice won and she thought he was going to end things. She would live the rest of her miserable life haunted by the memory of Neville and what she could have had with him.

"You should have told me," Neville declared, as though they had never stopped arguing, as though he hadn't been gone. "I know you've always kept secrets and I've respected them for the most part, but this one—" he stopped and she could tell he was furious."This one was wrong. This one I should have been aware of. I—what would I have done, Graces? How would I have lived if you had died because of me?" he asked hoarsely, his voice breaking as angry tears came cascading down. "Do you know what that would have done to me?"

"I feel like I forced this on you," he choked. "I wanted you, I-I pushed. I always pushed, even when you tried to put distance between us I pulled you back. You wanted to get away and I wouldn't let you. If I would have known." He shook his head. "I never would have let myself want you. You should have told me," he bemoaned.

Graces bit her lip. "I'm not sorry, Neville," she sputtered out, knowing she should apologize and beg for forgiveness, but unable to find it in herself to do so. "You wouldn't have stayed. You would have ended things immediately." She wiped away her own tears. "I needed you. Something inside me knew that I needed you, so I never told you. And each time I tried to end things with you I missed you more than I thought I could."

"I didn't expect to love you," Graces whispered. "Which was so stupid because I knew early on that I was falling in love with you." She looked up at the ceiling. "I knew so early on. It's why I wouldn't say your name, because I constantly wanted to remind myself that I couldn't love you."

"You can't be mad at me, Neville. I will not ask you to forgive me for lying, because I would do it again. But I will ask you to forgive me for being lost. You have to forgive me for being weak. You have to forgive me for wanting to love you, for wanting you to love me."

"You didn't want to love me," Neville countered. "And you certainly didn't want me to love you."

Graces took a step forward, as though to close all the distance between them, but stopped. She was too scared to try to touch him, too afraid he may reject her touch. "You did not force this on me. If I didn't want to love you I would have left. Can't you see that? I spoke strongly for one thing, but what were my actions, Neville? I always came back to you. I would lay there with you and you would do something so ordinary like hold my hand and my heart would flutter and I would take it away. I would push you away— too frightened to take what I wanted— but I was always so careful to not push you to the point where you would leave. I spent so much time not letting myself feel what I wanted to feel. Not letting myself see what was right in front of me."

"What if you die, Graces? We're not a very well kept secret. What if—"

"I did die," Graces proclaimed. The room stilled at her words and she felt as though the air around her were heavier. "I died," she whispered. "Physically and metaphorically. I died. Whoever I was before... I think she's gone." She looked up at Neville who seemed as though he were going to be sick.

"I don't know who I am anymore," she admitted, holding back her tears. "I look in the mirror and see a stranger with my face. I don't know who the girl is staring back at me, but she isn't the same. I don't know what that girl believes or what she wants and it terrifies me." She crossed the room unable to stand another moment of the distance between them. "But I know that she loves you, that I love you. I know I want to be by your side, regardless of the risks. I know that wherever you stand I want to stand beside you."

She watched as Neville wrestled with himself, she could tell he was torn between reaching out for her and wanting to disappear. She moved closer so their chests were barely touching and slowly brought her hands to his chest.

"I know the risks, Neville," she whispered, gently kissing his jaw. "I want this, with you. That is if you want this with me, of course," she quoted, hoping he remembered what she had said in the Greenhouse.

Neville let out a tearful laugh of recognition before enveloping her in his arms and placing a bruising kiss on her mouth. She laughed and cried against his lips and wound her arms around his neck, determined to not allow him to let her go. It was done. This was it and she felt so relieved and joyful at the thought. It had taken so long to get here, but they were here. She refused to stop kissing him and luckily for her Neville seemed to have no intentions of stopping either.

"You're so manipulative," Neville laughed against her lips, one hand wrapped solidly around her while the other was buried in her hair. "I will never win, will I?"

"Never," Graces swore, pulling him back in to kiss her. "But I swear you'll be happy."

"I'm already happy," Neville grinned. "I love you and you—"

"And I love you too," Graces smiled. His eyes softened at her words and she felt breathless looking up at him. She hadn't seen Neville happy like this in so long. She had missed this, his face open and joyful, lately it was hardened and weary. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to realize."

Neville shook his head. "I'm not."

"No," Graces challenged, raising a brow. "You don't wish I said it when you first proclaimed it?"

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. "Would you have meant it then?"

Graces thought about it for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe," she whispered, wiping away another happy tear.

"I meant what I said, Graces. I didn't say it with the hopes you would say it back, or even with the dream that one day you would feel the same. What we had was enough." Neville paused for a moment and looked at her with more seriousness. "You can love Draco and me both, Graces. You know that right?" Graces nodded. "And you know that I don't mind if you can only love me privately should you not want to lose him."

Graces looked away thoughtfully. "It's not just that I love you, Neville. It's—I don't want to be a Death Eater. I don't want this life. I don't want it so much that I think often times of not living it." She looked up and saw clearly how much that statement wounded him, but if she was going to be honest she had to tell him this. "I need to change my life, Neville. And, I think, living my life for what I believe—what I truly believe—and who I love is a good start."

"Okay then," Neville nodded solemnly, looking hesitantly at the door where Graces now realized their Professor must have been outside of to allow them a bit of privacy. "Are you ready for this?"

Graces felt as though the air in the room had thickened. She didn't know if she was. "I think I have to be," she said hushly, chewing her lower lip. Neville nodded and moved to open the door.

"Neville," Graces called, causing him to pause. "You don't say a word. Not one word. You let me talk and explain. I can't have you being a part of it."

Neville frowned. "Why?"

"I don't want you to accidentally go against the unbreakable vow you made," she said tightly. "And I-I want to be able to tell Draco that you never told anyone our secrets. If he is to hate anyone I rather it be me, because there is hope maybe one day he will forgive me for this."

Neville's hand was now off the door completely. "How much are you planning to tell?" he asked cautiously.

Graces face construed as she tried to keep herself together. "A lot."

"How much is a lot?"

"Everything. Just—I won't talk about Graham. I owe Graham too much and I think he will do the right thing eventually, in his time, so I won't talk about him. But everything else."

Neville seemed to not be able to move. "Everything?" he breathed.

"Everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 96 chapters in and Graces has said it :D I hope you loved this moment as much as I did.


	97. Chapter 97

Neville glanced across the room at the window. The sun was almost fully risen and morning dew was shimmering on the glass as it began to thaw. He hadn't realized how much had happened until Graces was speaking. It was hard to believe that all this had happened to them in less than a year. It was hard to believe that any of this had happened period. He'd remained silent for almost all of it. The only part that he had taken over, much to Graces' displeasure, was the discussion of Nott. Graces had decided to maintain the story that she had originally given in the hospital wing, but he couldn't allow that. No, he had stabbed Nott and Graces covered it up.

He just couldn't bear it. Hearing her lie again about what had occurred. That story she gave, though it did hold some truths, was not the full truth. And he didn't want her to carry the weight of that lie. Neville had a feeling that McGonagall wanted to talk to him about Nott. Maybe she thought that stabbing him was so far from his personality that he needed some help of his own, but Neville was quick to dismiss it, possibly even a bit harsh in his dismissal. She had asked how he felt about it. To which his answer was "The same way I felt last year when I stabbed someone in the eye."

After that he had let Graces take over and sat silently ignoring the older woman's glances. He didn't want to discuss it. He did what he had to do, both times. There was nothing to discuss. Besides, Graces had revealed far more disturbing things tonight. Neville had never pushed to know what task Draco had been given, and now he understood why Graces had been so adamant about him not knowing. He would have told. Even with his promise to never betray her, even with how much he loved her, he would have betrayed her for this. She had looked at him after she made the confession, not just the confession that her brother was tasked to kill Dumbledore, but that she was helping.

All her doubt in him was laid bare in that look, her doubt of his love, her doubt of his devotion. She had admitted to her part in the task and then turned to see his reaction before continuing on. He had no idea what she had seen on his face, if he had passed her little test or confirmed her fears, but he knew that she looked on purpose, not to seek comfort or to show any apology. She looked to him to see his reaction, to see how far his love extended. He couldn't explain how he knew that to be the reason, but he knew.

It was in the silence that had unfolded that his thoughts turned to this. Now that there was quiet to think his mind was running away from him. He looked over at his Professor and had a feeling her mind was doing the same, turning all Graces' words over, trying to inspect every look and movement she had made. Maybe even some of his own words and reactions.

McGonagall raised her glass to her lips as though to take a sip and then when she found the glass empty she looked at it with irrational disdain before setting it down next to the empty decanter and empty bottle.

"What happens now?" Graces whispered.

"What do you think should happen?" McGonagall asked, staring intently at her.

Graces shrugged. "I don't know," she rasped, biting her lip. "Azkaban? I assume people who plot to kill Albus Dumbledore—"

"You're not going to Azkaban," Neville swore gently, holding her closer to him.

"I'm going to agree with, Mr. Longbottom, there," McGonagall said, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"And Draco?" Graces asked.

The amused smile fell and McGonagall looked down for a moment. "I don't want you to worry about that."

"How could I not worry about that?"

"Because you've now told an adult," Professor McGonagall stated cooley. "And now an adult will take care of that. I don't want Draco going to Azkaban either. I would like him to come to me as you have."

Graces' looked down for a moment, some kind of emotion catching in her throat, before she asked her next question. "So-so you'll be talking to Draco? You're going to tell him. Tell him I told. Tell him about Neville. Or are you going to turn him in? Or—"

"I am not going to do anything."

Graces frowned. "I don't understand. Nothing is going to happen?"

McGonagall glanced over at him and then at Graces, her eyes worn and heavier with something more than sleep. "Nothing," she said gently.

Neville furrowed his brow in confusion and he looked down to see Graces had a similar reaction.

"I think this was enough for the time being," McGonagall further explained, sitting up and placing her empty glass next to the empty bottle of whiskey. "Not everything needs to change overnight."

"No?" Graces asked, her voice airy and broken all at once.

"No," the older woman said kindly, standing up and glancing at Neville before walking past them and to the doorway to her bedroom. "You are going to keep me informed of your brother's progress and I will speak to the headmaster, but I think I can safely assure you that nothing needs to happen immediately. Provided your brother isn't going to make a move soon and no one is in immediate danger," she stipulated.

"When will you tell Dumbledore," Graces asked, her voice trembling with fear.

McGonagall fell silent for a moment. "Soon. Graces, you need to believe that I am going to take care of you. You and Draco. I need you to trust me."

"What if Dumbledore—what if he retaliates? What if he—"

"Albus Dumbledore is not a great wizard because of his power. He is a great wizard because of his ability to see the good in others, and because of his humanity and sympathy, traits You-Know-Who scoffs at are what make him great. It is not fear but love that people are drawn to, Graces. And I trust that when I go to him he will feel nothing but compassion for you and Draco. I also trust that he will not want to break the confidence you have given to me and will allow me to keep this promise to you, that so long as Draco isn't near completion, we have time to allow you to adjust and decide how you want to go forward."

Graces sniffed tearfully in relief and Neville himself was surprised by how thankful he was for the lack of action. It was odd sitting there now. He had always wanted this. He never allowed himself to think about it, to give attention to the chance that maybe, just maybe, Graces would change sides. But now that it was here, he didn't feel so much relief at it. He felt more fearful. He didn't fully understand the consequences that would come from this and if he was being honest he was frightened of it. Time, no matter how little, to adjust was comforting.

"I am going to give you each a box a candy. Neville, I am sure you remember these," McGonagall murmured, handing Neville a familiar box. Neville laughed out loud as he saw the Weasley twin's invention: Puking Pastilles. The older woman smiled slightly before handing the other box to Graces. "The Weasley twins sent me this around Christmas. 'In case I needed a few extra days off,'" she quoted, her lips pursing in disapproval and mild affection.

"Anyways, I think they will come in handy for today. You both take one during your first class and when you're dismissed go to the hospital wing and sleep. I will inform Poppy that you two will be coming."

Neville watched as Graces nodded and seemed to be wrestling with what she wanted to say next. Both he and his head of house waited with bated breath. "Thank you," she finally said, her silver eyes more hopeful than Neville had seen in months.

"Graces," McGonagall began quietly, her voice more hesitant and unsure then Neville was used to hearing. "Does Snape know of any of this?"

Neville bit his tongue. He didn't know why Graces had not mentioned Snape, why she had woven the retelling of the past so that he was missing, but she had. He had wanted to say something, but loyalty to her prevented him from doing so.

"I don't think so," Graces answered, her tone and voice perfect. Neville wouldn't have known she were lying if he hadn't known the truth.

"Graces," McGonagall said patiently. "You said a muggle doctor helped you. Did this happen at Hogwarts?"

Graces said nothing. She didn't move her eyes away from the older woman's, but she didn't answer.

"Neville visited when you were hurt. You said he did. You said that—"

"I know what I said," Graces murmured, shifting uncomfortably.

"Neville did not leave Hogwarts. I know that. I remember seeing him, I remember him in classes. So I know you healed at Hogwarts if he visited you. So who brought you to Hogwarts? After. Who got you a doctor?"

"I don't know. I don't remember much regarding after."

McGonagall pursed her lips and let out a slow breath. "Graces, if Professor Snape knew any of this and allowed this to happen to you he should not be protected."

Graces stared down at her fingers and licked her lips. "He didn't know."

McGonagall didn't look like she believed that for a moment. She looked over to Neville, but his face was carefully cold. He hated Snape, he'd always feared the man, but since October, his fear had vanished and was replaced by a burning hate.

"Graces," Neville began quietly. "This is your life. Are you willing to wager your life?"

"Severus Snape didn't know," Graces repeated. "And I'm willing to wager my life that he would do whatever is in his power to keep me alive."

"I wouldn't," Neville said coldly.

"Then you and I are in disagreement," Graces said thickly, meeting his eyes. Neville leaned in to say something to her privately, but Graces gently pushed him away. "I will not discuss this."

"Here?" Neville asked, a bit of his temper seeping out. "Or are you barring any conversation of this?"

"Neville," Graces whispered, her eyes pleading.

"I want to have a discussion on this."

"I don't think a discussion is needed," the professor broke in, her eyes set with determination. "I believe I have my answer."

Graces' face fell at her words. "He he always helped," Graces whispered. "Always. He tried to stop me from going. He argued for Thomas and Octavian to be spared from the beginning, before anything happened. He's always tried to save lives where he could. Not just mine. Please. He saved me," Graces pleaded.

McGonagall sighed and tried to place her hands on Graces shoulders. Graces instantly jerked away from the touch.

"What will it look like if Snape is exposed? It will expose me and mine too. It—"

"Like I said," McGonagall whispered. "Nothing will be done now. But we have to talk to one another, Graces." Graces looked away. "I want you to start joining me here for dinner, every evening. We will do this under the ruse that you are being given an opportunity to retake your exams and practicals since your eye had prevented you from doing well earlier. I think you will have an easier time talking to me if you know me, perhaps. We will talk and when you are ready we will go forward. Neville may also join us for dinner and conversation." The older woman gave them both a pointed look. "That way you two will not need to be sneaking around so much."

Graces nodded through her tears.

"I know you're scared, Graces. There's nothing wrong with being frightened. If you weren't scared right now, I actually would think you mad." Graces nodded again, apparently to overwhelmed with emotion for words. McGonagall tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and gave her a sad, yet affectionate look. "Go to your first class, take the chocolate, and get some sleep. When you wake up we will talk more. In the meantime just rest."

When they left McGonagalls' chamber Neville was surprised by how still the castle was. The morning was there and in less than twenty minutes people would be leaving their dorms, it shouldn't have been so surprising that the castle was silent, but it was. In the chaos of his night the castle remained untouched. He walked silently along side with Graces thinking of this.

"Neville," Graces whispered, awakening him from his fog. He looked down at her and smiled slightly. Graces bit her lip. "I feel like something should be said, but I don't know what to say. I know you must have questions," she continued, her hand nervously playing with his mother's ring. "And you may want to have a few discussions." She nodded her mind deliberating even as she spoke. "And you're entitled to that. You are."

Neville nodded and let out a slow breath. His head didn't feel right, whether it be from lack of sleep, drinking, or all that had happened. It didn't matter. He felt clouded.

"I don't think anything else needs to be said right now," he stated quietly. "In fact I think it best we both just focus on staying upright for a few hours more."

"Okay," Graces agreed, her voice still heavy with wariness.

Neville gave her a sad smile. "Graces," he whispered drawing her attention back to him. "Everything is going to be okay. Not just because McGonagall knows and is going to help us, but because I won't let anything happen to you. I swear right now. If you want to leave, if you want to run away, we will go. I'll even go to the Slytherin dungeons myself right now and drag your brother and Thomas with us. I'll go get Octavian too. You give me the word and I will do it. I swear."

Graces let out a breathy laugh. "No. I meant what I said. I don't want to run."

"Okay then. The offer stands, should you change your mind."

Neville watched as Graces stalled for time. For some reason she seemed unwilling to part with him for a few hours until they went back to the infirmary. He wanted to bid her goodbye, especially because he was nervous people would be coming out shortly and see them, but he made himself wait.

"Snape made an unbreakable vow to my mother to finish the task should Draco be unable to. He swore to protect Draco." She licked her lips nervously. "And I honestly believe that Snape cares for us. I think—" she paused and searched for words. "I think his relationship with us is complicated. And I don't—he's a spy, as you've heard he was a spy in the first war for Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord thinks he's a spy for him, and it's so hard to know who he's loyal to. But I think it's to—"

"Graces," Neville interrupted tiredly. "Now is not the time for this discussion."

"I know, I just—"

"We can talk about Snape _later_ ," Neville stressed.

"I don't want us to have anymore secrets," she said back as a way of explanation.

"I appreciate that."

"And I won't bar any conversations between us. We can discuss anything, maybe not in front of others, but in private. No topic is off limits. Sometimes I will need reminding," Graces added quietly looking down.

Neville gently took her chin up so she was looking up at him. "That goes both ways." He gave her a soft smile. "I will see you in a few hours, okay?"

"Okay," Graces nodded.

Neville kissed the top of her head and began making his way to the Gryffindor tower. He was almost half way there when Graces came tearing up behind him too. His eyes widened at her calling out to him and they ducked into a dark corner, Neville frowning down at her.

"What are you going to tell them? They're all up by now and you're going to walk in and—"

"I won't have to tell them anything if someone sees us like this," Neville pointed out, his voice about three octaves too high. "Graces, this is not discreet."

"I'm sorry. My gods, I'm acting mad aren't I?" Graces asked, holding her temples and closing her eyes.

"A bit, yeah," Neville nodded, looking around to make sure no one was around still.

"But still, what are you going to say?"

"McGonagall summoned me. They saw she summoned me. I don't need to say anything."

"But they will ask why and—"

"And I'll say it's private," Neville finished. "I'm not exactly an open book with them."

"But what if—"

"Graces, what's going on?" Neville asked gently.

Neville watched as she trembled before him, her mind a storm of worries she couldn't seem to grasp onto. She shook her head, not to answer him so much but as to struggle through her own self.

"I don't think I can bear to see him," she whispered swallowing hard.

Draco. "Right," Neville whispered, only imagining how hard it would be for her to face him now. "You go to the infirmary now," Neville instructed. "McGonagall won't mind. Just go now. I'm going to be there soon."

"Did I make a mistake, Neville?"Graces asked, wiping her eyes.

"Oh, Graces," Neville breathed, looking around to make sure the world was still just waking up and not beginning to trickle into the halls. "Oh, Darling, now is not the time. Now is—"

Graces tried to stifle a sob, but it was a moot point. Breying sobs took over her despite her best efforts. Neville wanted to hold her, but he couldn't bring himself to. Not knowing what was at stake if they were caught. He wasn't willing to take such chances now.

"You're just tired," Neville whispered, hesitatingly putting a hand on her shoulder. "Things are going to look and feel better after some sleep. You've never done well with lack of sleep. You do crazy things like take me to bed," Neville joked, winning him a small laugh. "Hmmm maybe I should keep you tired. Perhaps if I keep you utterly exhausted for a decade I'll get you to marry me."

"Are proposing?" Graces frowned, her eyes still red and puffy.

"Gods no," Neville said quickly. "No," he repeated more firmly.

"You know we can think about that now," Graces pointed out awkwardly, obviously realizing this herself.

"I-I don't want to think of that now," Neville hurriedly spilled out.

Graces gave him a coy smile. "I meant a future. We can think of a future together."

"Oh," Neville smiled, a bit relieved. "I'm already thinking of futures, Miss Malfoy, you don't even know. I have plans."

"Do you?" Graces grinned. "Like what?"

"Traveling, moving in, getting a dog—"

"Or a cat," Graces suggested.

Neville wrinkled his nose. "I don't really like cats. Cats eat plants. Knock pots over, do their business in said pots-"

"I don't like dogs," Graces maintained, wrinkling her nose. "They give their love too freely and want approval too much."

"You don't like them because they're too loving?"

Graces smiled. "I thought we already established that I was always going to win."

"A cat it is."

"I love you," Graces declared hushly, looking up at him in a way that made his heart stop and beat quickly all at once. "I'll see you soon. If I'm asleep when you get there wake me."

Neville watched her go, before heading into the tower. He wanted to think of a future with Graces. He had this vision of her working long nights in the healer program and him throwing himself into his internship and coming home to one another in a tiny flat, maybe in Hogsmeade, close to the school. He smirked at the idea of Graces being willing to live in a small flat and adjusted his thought to one of the properties he already owned. He always imagined a little studio filled with so many plants that it was like living in a greenhouse, but he realized now that Graces would detest that. And apparently now there was to be a cat. He could only imagine what a cat of Graces' would be like. That would be the most spoiled kitten to ever walk this earth. He would probably have to allow it to come with them when traveling too. He was going to be dashing to catch trains with way too many suitcases of clothes and an unruly cat. Neville grinned, imagining a life where his and Graces greatest argument was her spoiled cat that was continuously wreaking havoc on his house plants.

The only thing was that he didn't see this future so happy without Draco. He and Graces had been living in a little bubble of their own for the past few months and now the bubble had popped. Realities were beginning to set in and one big reality was that Graces could never be truly happy if Draco wasn't in her life. Every monumental moment: their first apartment, graduation, their wedding, the births of their children would be marked by his absence.

He wondered if Graces had a plan to tell him? No. She couldn't even look at him. She was scared to face him. She clearly had no plans on how to tell him. Was anything really real until Draco knew? McGonagall knew. No, it wasn't the same. Draco had to know. Right now Graces had two lives, one with him and her real one with Draco, and they couldn't be joined unless Draco knew.

"Neville, where have you been? Is everything okay?"

Neville stared at Harry not really hearing his words. He knew. He stared at him for a bit too long to be polite, before Harry repeated the question.

"Oh, uh, yeah, sorry," Neville fumbled.

"You sure everything's alright?" Harry asked, searching his face. "Your Gran okay?"

"My gran?" Neville scowled.

"Yeah, we thought perhaps something happened to her," Ron said from the foot of his bed, almost fully dressed for the day. "I mean... McGonagall did send for you and then you didn't come back."

Neville looked around the room and saw that Dean and Seamus were also looking at him with the same concern that Harry and Ron shared.

"No," he said quietly. "Everything's fine. Truly."

"Then what was—"

"It's, uh, a bit private," Neville shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dean looked as though he were going to ask another question, but Ron quickly intercepted. Saying they should hurry down for breakfast and give Neville a chance to get dressed. He glanced over at Neville for a moment before quickly looking away. Neville recognized the look, but couldn't quite place it until Ron patted his shoulder and left the room. It was the look he had when he saw his parents. Neville looked back at Harry who was trying to hide his own glances as he quickly tried to stuff his homework in his satchel. They thought it had something to do with his parents.

Neville tried to ignore his discomfort and slipped away to shower. He felt heavier than before, not quite like the world was weighing him down. He felt more real, more human. Skin and bone. Real and imperfect. He had needs, human needs. He needed to eat, breathe, bathe, drink and sleep, but he also needed other things too. Safety, acceptance... love. The last few hours seemed to highlight all this. It also highlighted how much he took for granted.

He scowled at his odd jumbled thoughts as the water ran down him, washing away the smell of stale sweat and whiskey. His thoughts continued to scatter regarding his humanity. Making it impossible for him to truly grasp his chain of thought. He didn't know why he was thinking of any of this, but he was. Maybe because his mortality felt more real. He felt as though Death were stalking Graces from the shadows, she had for months been aware of his dark presence, but Neville was now aware of what lurked in the shadows around them. And if Death was watching Graces, wasn't he watching him as well?

"Breathe," Neville whispered aloud, sealing his eyes from the water and other emotions. "Just breathe."

He tried to go back to thinking about the cat and the life he could have with Graces, but the pit in his stomach widened. Intrusive thoughts kept bombarding him. He thought about the ministry. What it had felt like in those moments of uncertainty. What it had felt like to look at the end of someone's wand and know he was only going to get fifteen years on this earth. It hadn't felt like this, he realized. He had too easily accepted such a short life, but now he couldn't accept it. He wanted a lifetime now. He wanted a lifetime with Graces; a few months was not enough. A few years wasn't enough. He wanted decades with her; he wanted a life with her. And they couldn't have a lifetime if one of them died. She needed to live, he needed to live, and death was a quiet companion walking along side of them. A silent threat that would forever loom if this war didn't turn out in their favor.

Neville for the first time in his life considered praying to the gods. Begging them to spare Graces and him, to let them have an opportunity to live past this war and build something wonderful together. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring himself to pray to deities that he didn't believe in or to pray to ones that were real and allowed such terrible things. He thought about all Graces had gone through this year. Then he thought of the Higgs. He remembered the list of murdered children in the Daily Prophet.

And that's the world, right? It didn't care that they were young, just like it wouldn't care that he and Graces were young and in love and on the cusp of a wonderful life. He turned off the shower and felt tiny pricks of heat spreading across his skin. The steam felt as though it were suffocating him. He shook his head and tried to regain his thoughts and not notice that his heart was pounding so violently in his chest despite the fact nothing was happening. He tore out of the shower, unable to stand the steam, the heat, being closed in a moment longer and tried to suck in a full breath of the cool air.

But the cooler air did nothing for him. His skin was on fire and he couldn't get one full gulp of air into his lungs.

"This can't be happening," he rasped, folding his arms tightly around him and going to his knees. "Please, please, please."

He bent over on himself, so his forehead was touching the tile and held himself more tightly as he sobbed into the floor. He felt weak, pathetic and broken when all he wanted was to be strong. When he **_needed_** to be strong. He needed to get it together, he needed to get up. But the more he reminded himself of what he needed to do and be the more he sank into the floor.

This was in his head, he knew this was in his head. He was fine. Physically he was completely fine, but he couldn't stop himself from shaking or from feeling that he was suffocating. He kept reminding himself that he wasn't suffocating, that though it felt like he was in a tight space he wasn't. It took too long for him to finally be able to stand up off the floor. And when he finally did he didn't feel at all better. Neville realized that he was still teetering on the edge of another break down.

"Just a few hours. You just have to hold it together for a few more hours," he reassured himself, closing his eyes tightly.

He walked out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his hip and was surprised to see that Harry had lingered behind the rest of the group.

_Shit._

Neville took a bracing breath and began to sift through his trunk for some clean clothes. He knew Harry was watching him. Watching him and thumbing through his own thoughts of what to say.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked quietly.

Neville chewed the inside of his cheek. _Not at all._ "Yeah, I'm fine."

Harry waited for more, but Neville devoted all his attention to the buttons on his shirt.

"Neville, if you need to talk to someone—"

"I'm fine, Harry."

Harry shifted awkwardly. "I left one of my books and I, uh, heard you in the shower."

Neville could feel his cheeks burning. "You know me, doesn't take much to make me cry. I'm just tired."

Harry shifted his eyes and seemed to be trying to find words for what he wanted to say. "I don't think that."

Neville glanced up at him as he adjusted his tie and then looked back down at what he was doing. "Don't think what?"

"I don't think you cry for no reason," Harry mumbled. "So you must have a reason."

Neville tried to breath in a way that didn't show Harry how he was feeling, but each breath felt shaky and short. This couldn't happen again, not now with Harry watching.

"Nev, I wish you would tell me the reason. I want to be there for you."

"My reason," he began tightly. "Is I'm terrified that—" Neville paused and swallowed the emotion building in him "—that I'm killing the only real good thing I have in my life." He looked up and met Harry's emerald eyes. "I'm scared that my relationship with Graces will get her killed."

"Oh," Harry said lamely.

"And I'm trying to be strong. I'm trying to not let her see how scared I am," Neville sputtered, barely able to breathe let alone stop his tears from falling. "But I am scared. More scared then I was at the Ministry. But I can't leave her. She won't accept that," Neville laughed. "And to be honest when she didn't I was relieved," Neville whispered shamefully.

Harry furrowed slightly. "Neville, what happened last night?"

Neville just shook his head and sat down on the bed hanging his head low between his palms.

"Harry, you can't tell anyone," he sobbed. "You can't. Not a soul, no matter what. You have to p-p-promise me."

"I won't. I promise."

Neville nodded and continued to cry into his hands. They had missed breakfast, but he didn't care. He didn't feel much like eating anyways. He felt the spot next to him on the bed sink from Harry's weight.

"I'm assuming Graces told you that I know."

Neville laughed darkly. "What gave that away?"

"I think you have a healthy amount of fear of Graces to not be stupid enough to be so candid about your relationship without knowing that she has already told me."

It took Neville a few moments longer than he was proud of to understand what Harry meant by that. But when he did, he couldn't help but chuckle. And that feeling that had been building- diminished slightly.

"I think she loves you," Harry murmured. "She talked about... I don't know, things. It seemed like she loved you."

"Things?" Neville asked, looking up.

"Yeah," whispered Harry, seemingly haunted by the memory. "She said she wanted nothing but to give you a life, to build a life with you where you two can be happy and content."

"She said that?"

Harry nodded. "Yep. Those words."

"And you remember that word for word?" Neville scowled.

"Yeah I do. Because the next thing she asked was if your body would be another one I climbed over on my way to victory."

Neville closed his eyes. "She can be quite vicious at times."

"She wasn't being vicious. She was being protective," Harry corrected.

Neville scoffed. "She can be both at the same time." He looked over at the boy sitting next to him. "That's not true. You know that."

Harry didn't seem to have any words left. Neville wasn't sure if he believed him, but he had a feeling that the boy sitting next to him was more inclined to take what Graces said to heart then what he was saying now.

"When you all came with me last year, you knew it was dangerous, but you came. I couldn't talk you out of it." Harry gave him a wry smile. "You argued that I needed to let you come, let you all help. This is the same thing."

"No, it's—"

"It's the same, Neville. Not exactly, but close enough. Stop thinking your relationship with Graces is going to kill her. It wouldn't be on either of you if something happened. It would be on Voldemort." Neville flinched at the name despite himself. "On our society. It wouldn't be on you two. You two have done nothing wrong."

They fell into silence. Neville thought about what Harry said and to his surprise he did feel better. Not completely, but enough to not feel as though his world was falling apart around him.

"I'm going to the infirmary," Neville murmerd. "Can you tell the Professor I was feeling ill?"

"I can do that," Harry nodded.

Neville stood and walked to the door, before turning back to face Harry again. "You were right," he said, unsure if he should tell Harry this. "I can't tell you anything, but Draco is up to something. But you don't need to worry about that anymore," Neville said quickly. "It's all going to be taken care of. Everything's going to be okay."

"What? Wait—"

"It's being taken care of," Neville swore. "Trust me."


	98. Chapter 98

Minerva McGonagall had been many things in her lifetime: a minister's daughter, a witch, student, a cat, a member of the order, a fighter, a Ministry worker, a friend, a wife, and a professor. Surprisingly, the last was the one that had given her the most joy. She had found peace at Hogwarts from the things that haunted her at night. Living in a place haunted by ghosts and poltergeists had taken away the things that haunted her. Her days were filled with curious minds, laughing children and Quidditch. She never wanted to go back to anything else, she belonged here. She felt she was as much apart of Hogwarts as the stones in the walls.

All of which made it harder when she realized how ignorant she was of what was going on within it. She was lost as to how to help the Malfoy children. She had listened to everything that had happened within the past few months and she had not a clue as to where to begin. She wondered if Graces had realized how ill-equipped she was at handling this situation. There were a few times that night that she had a feeling Neville did. The way Neville had looked at her—dubious and observant—let her know that his faith in her wasn't nearly as strong as it had once been. She deserved that; she had let him down. When she had let Graces down, when she hadn't pushed all the times she had seen something was wrong, she had destroyed that faith that children tended to place in the adults around them.

He wanted to believe, though. She was being given a second chance to redeem herself, a second chance to save this girl that had been under her care for the past six years. Her shoulders slumped as she sat on a stool in the hospital wing watching Graces and Neville sleep in parallel beds curtained off in the corner. They didn't even look peaceful while sleeping. Neville's brows were slightly stuck together, in the same manner they had been last night. Graces' eyes moved about under her lids and every once in a while her body shifted suddenly. Even in sleep her hell followed her into her dreams. She wondered if the two of them would continue to sneak away to be with one another at night. She didn't want them to, but she also couldn't deny that Graces needed Neville.

It wasn't healthy, the way they had coiled themselves around one another. She doubted they truly understood how disturbing their relationship was in some ways. There was love, real, true, once in a lifetime love, but it wasn't healthy. It had grown in shadows and was watered with desperation. They were so dependent on each other, so isolated from the world. She understood why they had cut the world out. It was the safest thing to do, keep everyone at a distance to protect and nurture the small budding of affection so it had a chance to bloom. But now that love had grown, and it had outgrown their little world and it intertwined them so much that there was no way they could keep it hidden anymore. It was in the way they looked at one another, the way they spoke had characteristics of the other. It was so obvious that they were influenced by the other if you were paying attention. It was just a matter of time before the wrong person found out and she worried about each of their sanity should something happen to the other.

She absently rubbed beneath her left eyebrow as she considered all of this and tried to ignore the headache she had. She had thought Dumbledore would have the answers. She resolved herself to do what was best for Graces, to right all the wrongs done to her. She had confessed her failures as a professor of this school to the Headmaster, explained that she had known something was wrong and ignored all the signs. She had thought that Dumbledore would have been disappointed. He had entrusted her with so much this year with the amount of time he was gone and she had failed in her greatest duty, to keep the children that were in their care safe. But, to her horror, he had known.

He had been aware of everything happening to the Malfoy children the whole time. He had known what Draco's task was even before the boy himself knew. And he had known of what was happening to Graces in the dungeons in October. He had been made aware as it all happened. Dumbledore had assured her that he and Severus were ready to take her to St Mungos the moment they felt that the muggle doctor couldn't help her, but she had a hard time trusting that to be true. Graces' heart had stopped and she had not been taken to a healer. Her breathing had stopped and still they didn't step in. She had a feeling that if Graces had died in those dungeons Dumbledore and Snape would have covered it up.

The only thing that the Headmaster had not known about was Neville. He had not known that Graces and Neville were at all involved. She closed her eyes and wondered if she had betrayed Neville in telling Dumbledore about his relationship with Graces. Because the news of their romance lead to the most sickening part of their encounter.

_"If Graces changes her position in this war, there is hope that Draco will too. Severus has made it clear that Graces is the main reason Draco has even taken the mark. He would choose to save her life over any others. His loyalty to Voldemort is only out of fear for her safety and his parents' safety. Graces is no longer safe—regardless of Draco's success. If she's in love with Neville then she will never be safe again among Voldemort's followers. Her livelihood will depend on us winning this war. If they were willing to become spies for the order then—"_

_"You cannot be serious, Albus. You couldn't possibly mean to use their disadvantage to our benefit in this war. Do you realize how dangerous that would be for them? They have not even received their apparition license and you are suggesting they become spies? Graces Malfoy came to me for help. This is not aiding her, this is putting her in even more danger!"_

_"I don't like this anymore than you do, Minerva. But Graces and Draco Malfoy are a part of this war whether they want to be or not. Their father ensured that. Now the question is which side will they choose and what role will they play. Being spies for the order is safer than if they outright proclaimed loyalty to our cause."_

She had left soon after that and made it clear that he was to keep away from Graces, Draco, and Neville. She was still debating if she wanted to leave her own post; leave and take the three of them with her, but then she realized she didn't know what she would do with them. And if she took those three she needed to take Thomas and an infant as well. It was all too much. She was more lost now than she had been last night. She had no idea what to do or how to help any of them.

"Minerva." McGonagall looked up from her thoughts as Pomfrey parted the curtains and walked into the small quarantine area. "How long have you been here?"

"A while," she admitted, looking back at Graces face. "How have they been?"

"Miss Malfoy woke a bit after noon and I was able to get her to eat. I don't think she's finished a whole meal in a while, her stomach turned shortly after, but she was fine. She fell back asleep shortly after I got her stomach settled."

"And Neville?"

Pomfrey's eyes shifted a bit. "He couldn't sleep at first, but maybe an hour or so after he arrived he dozed off. I came back to check on them though and he was up again." She paused. "He seemed worried, a bit nervous like how he was when he was a first year. He didn't want to talk or have a calming drought. I was able to convince him to let me give him something so he could sleep, though."

"They've slept through dinner," McGonagall noted, looking for a moment at Neville's watch laid down by the hospital bed.

"I have a feeling they both haven't had a good sleep in a long while."

"Why didn't you tell me about them?" McGonagall asked accusingly.

"I didn't realize they were still seeing one another. The last time I saw Graces it seemed she was ending things. Neville didn't seem so committed either." Pomfrey explained, looking a bit tired herself. "I assumed they decided that it had been a mistake."

McGonagall nodded as her thoughts went back to all that Graces had said last night. It had taken her so long to even recognize a relationship with Neville. But it never sounded as though Neville wasn't committed. Though Pomfrey probably only saw brief slivers of the truth.

"Draco tried to visit earlier," Pomfrey informed. "I told him that I wanted to avoid another student falling ill and sent him away."

"I think that a wise choice," Minerva nodded. "I don't think Miss Malfoy is ready to see him yet."

"Should I keep them the night? Or can they return to their own rooms once they wake?"

"Keep them. They can return to classes in the morning. I want them to be well rested. I also want them to have some private time to talk."

"Private, but not too private?" Pomfrey asked, unable to hold back a small grin.

"And here I thought it was Potter I needed to worry about sneaking around the castle at night."

"At least their sneaking around is a bit safer."

Minerva just shook her head, deciding she didn't want to dwell too much on all that Graces and Neville did after dark.

"How much longer are you going to stay?"

She had no idea. Her stomach was in knots. She sat there staring at both students trying to untangle the mess, hoping that if she had a solution she would feel better, but no solution was coming to her. "I don't know."

"Well, I have some work to do," Pomfrey informed, taking two vials from her pocket and handing them to McGonagall. "One for sleep and one for that nasty hangover you're trying to hide."

"Thank you, Poppy."

She took the potion for her hangover and pocketed the other vial as she continued to try and figure out a plan. Maybe she didn't need a plan now. She had told Graces that nothing needed to happen overnight and maybe the same thing could be said for this. Time was something she had at the moment. Draco wasn't close to succeeding at his task and both twins were residing safely within the castle's walls. She could use this time to actually get to know Graces, help her sort out what she wanted and gain her trust. Maybe during all of this a plan would just form; she prayed one would.

She thought about what Dumbledore had said and tried to imagine what Graces and Draco would be like as spies. They were both bright and cunning neither had qualms about lying or living a lie. But neither was as cold as they pretended to be. It was a spy's duty to witness the most reprehensible crimes and often times they themselves are forced into actions that go against everything they believe. Snape had done many things in the previous war and even now it seemed he was forced to participate in horrors.

When you're a spy that is all you are. There's no room for anything else. She thought about how Snape had left Graces to the whims of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, how he had chosen to not take her to St. Mungos, but to get a muggle to try and save her. She wouldn't have made those choices. She could not have lived with herself, but Snape did. And then he taught class as though nothing was amiss.

Graces couldn't do that. Draco couldn't do that, not without tearing themselves apart. Then again, who was to say Severus was whole. Now that she thought about it, he was very much a broken man. Sometimes it was hard to look at Severus Snape and remember his actions as a spy helped them so much during the war. She only accepted his attitude and temper because she knew that whatever she had endured he had endured more and worse. Could Graces and Draco turn into such vile people? They already were quick to anger and harsh words.

For a brief moment she yearned to speak with Severus, to ask him what it all had cost him. She knew that Dumbledore had in much the same way pushed Severus into the life of a spy, but she didn't know much of the details regarding it, and she was in no position to be asking such questions. Nor would it have been wise, considering she didn't want Severus to find out about the twins. She had forced Dumbledore to swear his silence regarding them. She didn't know if she trusted the potions master to know about Graces and Neville. So she was left with no guidance in any of this.

It wasn't a foreign feeling to her. When she was a girl she often felt it living in a muggle village with a father who didn't know what she was and a mother determined to not speak of such a vital part of herself until she absolutely had to. Then she had felt it again, only in a different way when she became a woman. She had loved and lost twice in her life. Each time she had felt the devastation of being left alone when they had passed. It had cut her so deeply that the markings of it would always be upon her. But she had never truly felt it here. Hogwarts had saved her twice from this feeling and now it could not.

"It didn't go well, did it?"

"Neville," her voice sounded scratchy, like it hadn't been used in a while. "How long have you been up?"

"Not long," Neville murmured, shifting uncomfortably.

She suddenly realized how odd it was for her to be sitting there watching them sleep. She couldn't bring herself to think of any of her students as grown, but as she looked at Neville now she realized he was in some respects already a man. His face had more than a five o'clock shadow on it from a day of not shaving, his shoulders were considerably broader and though she knew he was taller than her, she hadn't noticed until now, which was comical considering he was laying down at the moment.

Neville politely cleared his throat, as though to remind her of the time that had passed. "So?" he asked again. "Did it not go well?"

She frowned slightly. "I'm unsure what you are referring to."

"Dumbledore. I assume you've already spoken to him and you're here now... looking at us," he pointed out with slightly pinkened cheeks. "So it didn't go well?"  
  


"It went well," she said gently, deciding that it wasn't quite a lie. "Headmaster Dumbledore agrees it best that nothing happen now and that I should handle things for the time being."

Neville nodded slightly, but there was something distrustful in the gesture, like he saw through her thinly veiled truths.

"I just wanted to check on the two of you."

Neville nodded, but the way his lips pressed together assured her that he was wary of her reasoning.

"Neville, how are you feeling with everything? We talked a lot regarding Graces last night, but we didn't discuss you."

"I don't think there's a need to discuss me," Neville said, his eyes shifting slightly.

"I think there's a lot to discuss in regards to you. Neville, you are carrying some very great burdens on your shoulder. Burdens that I can't even lift from you."

She watched as Neville chewed the inside of his lip. "Graces isn't a burden. Nothing about being with her is a burden."

"I'm not saying she is. I'm saying that in the past year you've had to grow up very quickly and take on responsibilities I don't think you were prepared for." She waited for a response, but Neville just sat in the bed refusing to make eye contact with her. She signed. "How are you planning to tell your gran?"

A small furrow appeared on Neville's face at the question. "About Graces?"

"Yes. I have a feeling Augusta won't approve."

"Probably not, but she rarely approves of what I do anyways." He gave a small shrug. "Just going to tell her I suppose."

"When?"

Neville took a deep breath and cocked his head to each side as though he were mentally trying to decide between two specific dates. "Summer?" he finally answered unsurely. "I'd like to tell her as soon as Graces tells Draco, but—" Neville pursed his lips slightly. "I think maybe in person would be better. I want to be able to introduce her to Graces; I think that may help matters."

A small smirk teased the corner of her mouth. "You do realize that Miss Malfoy doesn't always make a good first impression."

"Oh? She didn't charm you when you first met her?" Neville asked teasingly. "Was it her prissy attitude and entitlement? Or her and Draco's grand theatrics?"

She smiled, but felt it best not to answer with her first impression of Miss Malfoy. "I plead the Fifth."

Neville scowled. "What?"

"It's a muggle saying, well, an American muggle saying. It means I should prefer not to answer lest my answer incriminate me," she explained further.

"I plead the Fifth," he repeated. "Do me a favor and don't teach Graces that saying."

She laughed. "And what was your first impression of Miss Malfoy? I highly doubt it was much better than mine."

Neville looked over at Graces to ensure she was sleeping, leading the older woman to believe that the story she was about to hear was not one that Graces herself knew. "It wasn't bad actually. I first saw her in Diagon Alley when I was six, maybe seven. She was walking with her Mum, and Draco of course, and they were eating candies. Not her mum, but her and Draco." Neville clarified. "And they were candies that create smoke when you pop them in your mouth, but Draco and her were making the smoke come out of their nose too."

Neville smiled. "She was giggling so loud. Draco was pretending to be a dragon and she thought it was so funny. It was infectious. I was watching from a store window and I couldn't help but laugh with her. Her mum kept shushing the two of them half-heartedly, but she was amused too. I thought it was so grand that I asked my Grandfather if I could get some too."

"Did he get you some?"

"Yeah," Neville nodded, but his face slowly lost it's smile. "He did, but... I don't know. It wasn't as fun eating them alone. I mean, my grandfather had a few with me when we got home and it was kind of fun, but it wasn't the same. Graces at one point had put some in her mouth and made it so her hair draped in front of her face and then blew out this pink and purple smoke and her hair was just intertwined in it and Draco was laughing and trying to waft her hair and smoke out of his face."

She considered what it meant that Neville so vividly remembered all this. Last night Graces had briefly mentioned that Neville had been lonely, but now she wondered how deep that loneliness ran. Graces had become quite isolated from her close friends this year, but Neville really didn't have any close friends. He seemed to just join in with groups of friends when they would have him.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, realizing Poppy had only said Graces woke to eat, but there was no mention of Neville eating.

Neville shook his head dismissively.

"Have you eaten today?" Neville's avoidant gaze was answer enough. "I made chowder last night, but most of it has gone uneaten I'm afraid," she explained, taking her wand and summoning the chowder and then flicking her wand another time to warm it. "It would be a shame to let it go to waste. I worked so hard making it."

She nudged the bowl towards him and Neville, clearly not wanting to offend, flushed and thanked her before timidly eating it.

"It's really good," Neville complimented awkwardly, circling his spoon in the thick liquid and taking another bite.

"I enjoy cooking, when I have the time."

They fell into a comfortable silence as Neville continued eating and her mind wandered through all the new information she now had regarding these two.

"Neville," she started gently. "I understand that you may find it hard to discuss all that you're feeling. You may not feel the need nor want to share those things with me, but I am here. If ever you do want to."

Neville nodded uneasily and took another bite of the chowder. McGonagall took in a breath and decided to leave it at that.

"I'm scared that if I admit that any of this is hard, that if I complain even in the slightest the fates will take her away from me," Neville said quietly into the bowl.

"That's not how things work, Neville," she said gently, knowing the feeling herself.

"That's how things work for me," Neville murmured. "I never imagined she would choose me. I really didn't. I always thought she would choose her family. I mean she said she was going to consider me a choice, but—" Neville shrugged and shook his head.

"When things get good," Neville whispered tightly. "Something always happens."

She was silent for a minute, thinking of all the possibilities of disaster. "If something happens, Neville. You will have Graces and she will have you. And you both will have me. I for one believe that between the three of us we will be able to handle anything the fates decide to throw our way."

She didn't know if it made Neville truly feel better, but he thanked her with a tight smile. She supposed nothing could make him feel better now, it was all too fresh, too raw. This all had to still be a shock, but with time she hoped he would feel better.

"I'm very happy for you two, Neville. Truly. I hope you know that. I'm sure you both think that people will judge and think you're wrong for one another, but I don't think that. I think she's good for you and I think you're good for her," she added kindly, standing up to leave. "I do think your relationship as it is now needs work, but I'm sure you're aware that what is grown in shadows can never truly flourish."

Neville frowned slightly and twisted his mouth. "Except for primrose, japanese forest grass, pulmonaria—or lungwort as you would call it—, fox gloves—"

"Don't be cheeky," the older woman tutted, rolling her eyes. "You know what I meant."

"Yeah, I know," Neville chuckled softly. "I want to remain in those shadows though, until Graces wants differently. I don't want to rush her, especially when it comes to telling Draco."

The older woman signed. "I don't think she has much time to wait."

"I don't care," Neville declared. "She gets every single second that we can allow her. I don't want her rushed into this."

"So you're expecting him to take it badly."

"I have no idea," Neville answered honestly. "I can't imagine it going well, though."

She nodded. "Get some sleep, Neville. You both will be expected in class tomorrow."

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

It was still early by the time Graces woke in the hospital wing. First light still hadn't spilled out from the windows. She yawned and tried to stretch, but her limbs felt heavy and her eyes though open were protesting to be closed once again. She turned over to see if Neville was still sleeping and jolted at Draco sitting beside her.

Her movement caused him to look up from the book he was reading. "Are you feeling better?" he asked, moving closer to her and closing the book shut.

It took Graces a few moments to remember that she was supposedly there because of illness. "Oh, yes. Much better."

"Are you sure?" Draco frowned. "You look a bit nauseous."

"No, not at all. I'm fine," she lied, laughing breathlessly and sitting up. "You worry too much," she added, her eyes shifting to look anywhere but at her brother, her brother that she had betrayed. Graces swallowed hard at the thought.

"So... Longbottom's sick too, huh?" Draco nodded his chin over at Neville behind him.

"Y-yeah, I guess."

"You two probably gave it to one another in Herbology class," Draco mused, looking at the Gryffindor behind him. Neville slept on his side, his back facing both of them. "Hopefully he feels better when he wakes too."

"You care?" Graces asked stunned.

Draco shrugged. "I mean, I don't wish him ill. Anyone who punches Potter isn't that bad of a bloke in my books."

Graces frowned and her eyes shifted as she turned those words over.

"Listen," Draco said quietly, moving and taking her hand in his. Graces jolted slightly at the touch, but Draco didn't seem to notice. "You and Graham don't need to feel bad about your relationship. I, uh, am pretty sure that you didn't tell me because you both were worried about my feelings," he said uncomfortably. "And I just wanted you to know that that's not something for you to worry about. I'm very happy about it. Honest. I'm not at all hurt."

Graces was confused at first, but slowly as she turned the words over in her head and examined them realization began to dawn. And that pit in her stomach grew wider at what he was implying and what she had never noticed, because she was too wrapped up in herself. "Draco, there's nothing going on between me and Graham."

Draco's jaw tightened, but when he spoke he was careful to keep his words cool and crisp. "You just both happened to be out all night and sneaking into the common room at the same time?"

Graces didn't know how to answer that. If she answered honestly then there would be a surplus of follow up questions that she didn't feel brave enough to answer at the moment.

"Listen, it's fine. It is, but I don't think that it's appropriate for you two to be—" He took a deep breath. "—doing whatever it was you two were doing."

"We wer—"

"You two have to do everything by the books, Graces. Graham's family is scrutinizing his every move. Most think that it was foolish of him to take control from his father. It's all so fragile right now, and they need to adore you. They're old fashioned ninnys, like father's side. You need to court properly. You need to _behave_ properly."

"Draco, I am not dating Graham. I am not sleeping with Graham. I do not love Graham."

Draco's lips pursed in a way that reminded her of their mother when they had done something she disapproved of. "Then why are you on the potion?"

Graces' mouth popped open in surprise. She had no idea how Draco knew about that. She fumbled for something to say, but couldn't find any explanation without telling him about Neville. Which she was not at all ready to do.

"I—well," Graces blinked rapidly and tried to grab for something to say anything to say.

"You're having sex," Draco finished with a tone of mild irritation and superiority. "And you didn't want to get pregnant. Smart. So you started taking the potion."

Graces was saved from having to say more by Neville very awkwardly coughing and clearing his throat in the bed behind Draco. They met eyes briefly before Draco turned towards him. Neville awkwardly lifted his hand in an odd greeting that in many ways felt more like an apology.

Draco rubbed his forehead in awkward frustration. "Morning, Longbottom."

"Uh, m-morning," Neville stammered unsurely, looking over at Graces for confirmation that that indeed just happened.

"Feeling better?"

Neville frowned and twisted uncomfortably, clearly surprised by Draco's civility. "Yeah... thanks." he added awkwardly.

"Good," Draco said, nodding. Neville sat there for a few moments, before shyly getting up to go to the loo. Graces stared at her brother unsurely.

"Why are you being so nice to Longbottom?" She asked carefully.

"I imagine he's still sweet on you and that waking up to hear us discussing your sex life with Graham may be a bit hurtful."

"And you care? That it would be hurtful to him?"

"I am not without empathy," Draco shrugged. "And he's not so bad of a bloke."

Graces' brows raised in surprise. "You should tell him that."

"I have. Don't be a child," Draco snorted, when he saw her eyes widen. "It doesn't make us friends. It doesn't change anything. I can acknowledge that Longbottom is a nice bloke and be civil, but at the end of the day he is a Longbottom and we are Malfoys."

"And what does that mean?" Graces asked quietly.

"It means that when his being a nice, noble, righteous bloke gets him killed you and I will probably have a moment to think "Well, that's too bad." and move on with our lives."

"Neville is not going to be killed," Graces stated firmly. "You don't even know him."

"I don't need to. I'm sure he is his father's son, just as Potter is his father's son. And like their fathers they will fall, because they will always be the ones to jump into a fight. Doesn't matter if they don't have a plan, or resources. What matters to them is what the fight is about. That's not a way to live, that's a way to get yourself killed, or worse." Draco mumbled. "As Neville's family knows all too well."

A lump came to her throat at Draco's words and she tried to gain control of the fear that overwhelmed her at the mere thought of Neville being harmed. She thought to say something, but Neville's voice cut her off.

"Well, this is a pleasant chat," the sandy haired boy said hollowly looking at Draco from the entrance of the curtains.

"Dear Gods, Longbottom. How fast do you pee? Did you even wash your hands?" Draco asked in a mixture of surprise and disgust.

Neville flushed and mumbled that he decided he wanted to get dressed as well and came back for his clothes. He picked up his trousers and wrinkled shirt and made his way to leave, but then stopped in the doorway. Graces watched as he seemed to be internally debating with himself.

"I'm not just my father's son. I'm my mother's too," Neville proclaimed. "And I'm very proud to be their son, because they fought for what they believed in and bowed to no one and nothing but their beliefs. I want to be the kind of man that does what's right and not the kind of man that is ruled by fear."

"I suppose we have different definitions of what is right," Draco said coolly.

Neville narrowed his eyes. "I don't think we do. I think we have different motivations though."

"I am not scared," Draco proclaimed, almost viciously.

"I am," Neville admitted, his eyes shifting about. "I'm not ashamed to admit I'm frightened of things to come. I just don't let it influence what I'm going to do. I want to do the right thing and sometimes doing the right thing can be dangerous, but I have no intentions of dying. So stop filling her head with such nonsense."

"It's not nonsense," Draco stated matter of factly. "You jump into dangerous situations without a plan or even really any knowledge of what is going on. How will that not get you killed?"

"That's not true."

Draco raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Okay," he mused. "Let's talk about the Ministry." Graces felt as though her heart was going to beat out of her chest. She looked over at Neville, but the sandy haired boy had his eyes locked solely on Draco. "You didn't have a plan, that's obvious—"

"We had a plan," Neville cut in. "It just changed a few times."

Draco gave him a dead panned stare. "You didn't have a plan and you were almost killed. You just follow Potter blindly and think that it will all work out, because good always defeats evil. Right?"

"I do not follow blindly."

"Did you know why you were at the ministry? Did Harry even tell you all of the information before you left?"

Neville was silent at that question.

"Did you ask?" Draco challenged further. Neville's continued silence was answer enough.

Draco clicked his tongue before continuing. "So you fought tooth and nail to escape from Umbridge's office to where Harry was, to follow him to you didn't even know where. And then when you got there you still didn't know or understand what was going to happen?"

"I knew that it was right."

"My point," Draco said calmly, even gently. "To you what matters is what the fight is about. And you're willing to let that be your last stand. Survival is your last priority, your first is about what's right."

"And what are your priorities?" Neville challenged.

"Survival. We want to survive," Draco said, gesturing to Graces and himself.

"What if you survive and you don't like the outcome?"

"Am I alive? Then I like the outcome."

"There's more to living than a pulse."

"I suppose your family would know that better than most."

"Draco!" Graces hissed.

"It's fine," Neville said dismissively, moving closer to Draco, his eyes still not even glancing at her. "What if you live and Graces dies?"

"That will not happen," Draco dismissed.

"It could."

"No—" Draco said darkly "—it can't."

"It almost did," Neville reminded, his own feelings regarding the matter seeping out. She could hear his fear and in some ways an accusation. "Twice in less than a few months."

"I have a plan."

"And what's that?" Neville asked, laughing bitterly. "For her to marry Graham Montague? Graham? Seriously?"

Draco fell silent and a shiver went up her spine as she watched his face turn from outrage to something more quizzical.

"I didn't tell you any of this, how do you know so much? I never told you about Graham."

"You didn't need to. I walked in on his proposal. _Back in October_ ," Neville emphasized in a reminder.

"That's right he told me about that," Draco mused slowly, his voice and look still full of distrust. "And you didn't assume it was made out of love?"

"You clearly didn't hear it," Neville deadpanned. "You didn't answer my question though. Is life worth living if your sister's not in it?"

Draco's nostrils flared and Graces inwardly cringed as his cheeks and neck pinked in rage. "I am not going to dignify that with an answer. In fact, I think this whole conversation is over." Draco turned back towards her, but she didn't feel as though he were looking at her. "And Longbottom I take back what I said about you being a nice bloke!"

Neville raised his brows in a half-hearted goodbye to her and slipped off to the loo.

"Self righteous, sanctimonious—"

"Those mean the same thing," Graces interrupted quietly.

"It needs to be said twice," Draco snapped. "Longbottom thinks he's so morally superior—"

"I don't think that's what he was saying. I—"

"Don't defend him." Draco cursed, slamming his hand down on his knee. "Just be on my damn side. He's an arse."

"He-he's always been very good to us," she said quietly, her fingers around the ring Neville had given her. "Keeping our secrets, helping me, even when we didn't deserve it."

"He wouldn't be helping us if he wasn't obsessed with you."

Graces bit her lip. "That's not true and you know that. He's not like that."

"Can we stop talking about Neville Longbottom?" Draco groaned, leaning back in his chair and glowering at the ceiling.

"Maybe I want to talk about him," Graces proclaimed rather timidly.

"Why?" Draco asked scowling.

"Because... because he's my friend."

"Neville Longbottom is not your friend," Draco said rolling his eyes.

"Yes, he is."

"No. He's not."

"He is. We have a good time together in class and we talk. I enjoy talking to him."

She watched as Draco's face contorted between several different emotions before he stood up and grabbed his satchel. "So let me get this straight. I don't know who you're fucking and I don't know who your friends are."

"Draco—" Graces pleased.

"You barely speak to me, but you talk to Neville bloody Longbottom?"

"No, Draco, listen—"

"Just forget it. You know what. I don't know you anymore, and I don't even think you care. I don't even think you miss me either. Which is perfect because I guess you won't miss me when I'm really gone. You'll just go on living this new life you forged without me."

"Draco!" She swung her legs off the bed to try and stop him from leaving, but by the time she was outside the curtains he was already sidestepping Neville who was walking back and out the door. Neville stood there for a moment looking at her and the door where Draco disappeared and he moved as though he were going to chase after him.

"Don't," Graces ordered, covering her face and going back to the bed. She buried her face in the pillow and wept. Draco was right and the guilt swallowed her up. She had wronged him in so many different ways.

She felt Neville's hand gently brush against the back of her head and she moved away.

"Please don't make me feel better."

Neville moved his hand, but she felt the bed sink as he sat down beside her. "Did you tell him about us?"

"No," she said tightly. "I'm too much of a coward for that."

"You're not a coward."

"You're wrong. I am."

"You're not," Neville promised, his hand finding its way back to her.

Graces held her breath in the pillow and was thankful when she heard Neville put up some silencing charms. No one else was in the hospital wing, but she appreciated that he seemed to be thinking ahead.

"You need to breathe," Neville reminded. He kept touching her and the small well-meaning act made her feel more suffocated than her actually refusing to breathe. "Graces."

"Stop trying to make me feel better," Graces snapped, heaving in a deep breath of air. "I don't want to feel better."

"What happened?"

She told him what had happened and what Draco had said, but Neville didn't say anything comforting at her words. When the silence was too long to be comfortable she rolled over and looked up at him. Neville had a pensive look about him, but there was something else behind his eyes. Something she knew all too well, a look of torture and regret.

"I-I have a theory," Neville said quietly. "When we first _got together_ and you wanted to remain detached, you talked constantly about Draco. All the time," Neville emphasized. "I mean we couldn't go a night without his name being mentioned or some memory or story regarding him. He was just—" Neville paused and his lips pressed tightly together as he searched for words. "He was your world. I mean—I've always known that you and Draco were very close and basically attached at the hip, the whole school has known since day one that you two are insanely close. People used to make jokes regarding the two of you and how close you were."

"Jokes?" Graces frowned.

Neville's head moved from side to side. "It's not important. My point is that as we've become close you've talked about Draco less and less and you see him less and less. In the beginning you couldn't allow yourself to fall in love with me. You said as much from the start. It's why you didn't say my name for a long time, because you wanted to be reminded that you couldn't feel anything for me beyond something carnal. Maybe saying Draco's name reminded you of that as well, reminded you of what you would lose should you feel anything for me. "

It made sense. Everything Neville was saying made sense. She tried to look for a flaw in his logic, but couldn't seem to find it.

"My theory is that you don't believe we could both exist in the same world together," Neville said sadly.

Graces sniffed and bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. "I'm going to lose my brother. He won't forgive this."

"I want Draco in your life. In our life. I did a poor job today of showing that, but I am going to do better."

"It won't matter, Neville," Graces whispered.

"Then tell me what will," Neville said desperately. "Tell me what I can do and I will do it."

Graces shook her head. "If I knew I would tell you. I know I have to tell him about you, about us, but I don't know how."

Neville ran his hand through his hair. "Nothing needs to change overnight," he reminded. "Nothing. Maybe it would be best if you spent more time with him. Heal some of the distance between you two. He loves you and I know you love him. I think you two both just feel so far away from each other that neither of you can—"

"Neville, it's not that simple. It's—"

"Just hear me out. Why don't you focus less on us and more on Draco. Spend time with him and less time with me. Maybe talk me up a bit," Neville grinned shyly.

"I don't think a bit will be enough. He currently thinks you're a sanctimonious arse."

"Great," Neville sighed. He glanced down at his watch. "We're going to be late to class, go get dressed."

"I'll be late, you just go. It's odd if you wait for me, we still need to appear separately."

"Even with Draco thinking we're friends?" Neville frowned.

"Do I need to remind you how thin the ice we are on is?" Graces asked, getting up and grabbing for her clothes, which she was sad to see were just as wrinkled as Neville's.

"No, you don't," Neville said getting up to go on ahead.

"I'm going to be really late," Graces advised. "I need to go to the dorms, I need to get some fresh clothes."

"I'll inform Professor Sprout."

Graces thanked him and risked a chaste kiss on the lips before turning to leave.

"Graces," Neville called, gaining her attention back. "Survival isn't Draco's first priority. It's you, you and then survival. When you tell him about us you are not going to lose him."

Graces gave Neville a sad smile. "I wish I could be as sure."

"Spend more time with Draco and you'll be reminded."

"And if you're wrong?" she asked, her eyes already brimming with tears at just the thought.

"I have been wrong about many things, Graces. And I will be wrong about many things in all the years to come. I also have a suspicious feeling that there will be times where I'm not wrong, but it's not worth the fight and I will admit to being wrong to keep the peace in our future household. But I am not wrong about this."


	99. Chapter 99

This was awkward, really awkward, Neville thought, standing in front of his Head of House's door. Dinner with Professor McGonagall and Graces. Every night. He bit his lip and wondered if he should wait for Graces before entering and then scowled when he realized she may already be in there. He ran a hand through his hair and realized how desperately uncomfortable he was with this. Before he could come to a decision the door swung open on its own.

Graces was indeed already there and he had a suspicious feeling that she had just opened the door to check and see if he was down the hall yet. She glared at him.

"You're late," she hissed.

"Am I late, or were you early?" Neville asked, raising his brows and knowing the answer to the question.

"To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late and to be late is unacceptable," Graces lectured under her breath, arms crossed as Neville walked in. Neville glanced down at his watch. Four—maybe five—minutes late if he was being generous.

He was about to point this out, but decided to refrain. Graces had her arms crossed tightly around her and she kept glancing over nervously to where he could hear McGonagall in the kitchen.

"I will be early from now on," he promised, gently rubbing her arms. He was about to pull her in, but then stopped. Graces seemed to sense the reasoning behind his hesitation as well. It didn't feel right to be intimate standing in their teacher's apartment. He suddenly felt very young. _Or maybe not young, but my actual age._

"Right?" she mouthed, a mixture of horror and disappointment.

"Relax," Neville said gently, trying to appear more comfortable than he was feeling. He had a feeling he wasn't a good actor, though, based on Graces' look. He quietly motioned her back through the door so that they could talk privately in the hall.

"The other night you were worried you made a mistake," he prodded. "Are you still feeling that way?"

Graces looked up and his heart dropped into his feet. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Neville couldn't hide his hurt.

"Not about you," Graces pleaded. "Just... I didn't plan on telling someone all that. And Draco—"

"Nothing is changing now, Graces. It's just dinner."

Graces took in a shuddering breath and her eyes brimmed with tears. "We aren't alone anymore, Neville. She knows about us. We can't sneak around anymore to be together. I don't get to have you to m—"

McGonagall opened the door and Graces quickly turned away to hide her tears. The older woman looked at Neville who awkwardly muttered that they needed a moment. McGonagall seemed a bit unsure about leaving as though she were going to try to talk to Graces herself there in the hall, but she nodded and gave them the privacy.

"I'm not comfortable being myself around people I don't know, or around people I do know."

"It doesn't have to happen overnight. You can warm up to Professor McGonagall and—"

"I'm not worried about McGonagall, Neville, I'm worried about you."

Neville frowned at her statement. "Me?" His eyes shifted as he tried to think about what she was saying. "Graces," he whispered, cupping her face in his palms. "Why do you think we are so fragile?"

"Because we are, Neville."

Neville shook his head. "No, we're not."

Graces shook her head. "I feel so distant from everyone. Draco is a part of me and now he's a stranger. Now he thinks of me as a stranger. We have not existed without one another and it took months to ruin that, how long will it take for this to be ruined? For you to feel distant from me because we can't be ourselves around one another. And you're all I have now," she added tightly.

"Graces, you could disappear for a year, five years, ten years. You could be gone until I am old and gray and my feelings will remain the same. You could continue on with snapping at me tonight, like you did the moment I walked through the door—" Graces flushed "—and I would make excuses for you until I'm blue in the face."

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. She closed her eyes and seemed to be mentally scolding herself. "Gods, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Neville shrugged. "Because I know you. And I know you're scared... and a Malfoy. It makes it easy to forgive you. I also know you love me and don't mean it."

"I am not all you have, Graces," Neville continued. "You have Draco. And you will never lose Draco, this I am sure. I think you're scared because you have to rebuild your relationship with Draco and you also have to build a new relationship with McGonagall. And you and I are going to have to not be so prominent in your life, but you will still have me." She laid her head on his chest and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, stifling the impulse to insist they move out of the hall. He closed his eyes and smiled as she breathed him in. "Ready?"

"Ready."

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McGonagall wondered what Graces' life was like growing up. She watched her eating across the table and realized that she was seeing exactly what Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy would have wanted the world to see when they were looking at their daughter: beautiful, refined, dignified. She saw both Narcissa and Lucius sitting in front of her and none of the girl she had seen the other night. She looked over at where Neville was seated, slouched down in his chair warily watching her cut her mince pie as if it were venison, the complete opposite in every way of her demeanor.

"You know, you remind me a lot of your mother."

Graces sat there for a few moments and she enjoyed the small frown that traced between her brow as she tried to figure out what that comment really meant.

"Do you like my mother?" Graces asked cautiously, eyeing her suspiciously.

"More than I liked your father," she answered simply, taking a bite of her own meal.

The blonde stared at her a long while before Neville lightly nudged her with his knee under the table and smiled, alerting Graces that it was a joke. Graces hesitantly smiled, but didn't comment.

"So," the older woman ventured. "What do you two normally talk about?"

There was a long silence before Graces and Neville both shrugged awkwardly.

"You two do talk don't you?" she deadpanned.

"Of course we do," Neville sputtered, his face a deep shade of red.

McGonagall waited for an answer.

"We talk about plants, potions, books, music, normal things," Graces answered quietly, moving the food on her plate with her fork.

"Maybe we could discuss some of these normal things at dinner," McGonagall suggested. "If I wasn't here what would you two be discussing?"

"I don't know," Graces shrugged, looking over at Neville as though she expected him to find the answer.

"What was the last _normal_ thing you two discussed?"

Neville scowled in thought, but Graces' eyes brightened as though she knew immediately what she wanted to talk about.

"Neville doesn't like cats," she proclaimed, making a very small attempt to hide her grin behind her hand. "He thinks they're uncouth."

"Really?" McGonagall asked slowly, looking over at Neville who gestured lazily in agreement. "Uncouth, huh?"

"I didn't say uncouth," Neville sighed. "I just said that I didn't like cats and that they tend to do their business wherever they want."

"He likes dogs. Apparently cats are without affection," Graces added, seeming to enjoy the fact that Neville wasn't catching on to what was happening.

Neville rolled his eyes. "Graces doesn't like dogs. She thinks they're too affectionate. She'd rather have an animal that pointedly doesn't listen and withholds affection."

"Dogs are desperate for love. They have this need to be liked," McGonagall pointed out. "Very dependent creatures."

"Dependent is code for weak," Graces piped in.

"Dependent is not code for weak," the older woman corrected. "There is nothing wrong in leaning on others, but dogs are weaker than cats, yes."

"A dog would save you from drowning. A cat would just watch."

"A cat wouldn't have let you go in dangerous waters to begin with," McGonagall rebutted.

"If it liked you enough to deem you worthy to live," Neville muttered into his plate.

Neville didn't know why Graces was determined to bring this up. He had already agreed to a cat. She seemed to be deriving some form of sick pleasure of reminding him. He highly doubted that this little conversation was to point out the good qualities of a cat vs a dog so that he would want a cat as well. No, Graces, as lovely as she was, wouldn't want him to want a cat too. She would just be satisfied that she was getting the cat.

Neville was so distracted with the thought that he didn't notice McGonagall change to her animagus and was taken quite aback when she had hopped onto the posting of his chair. So taken aback that he shifted too far and too quickly in his chair and fell over. Graces' laughter echoed through the room and Neville glared up at her, but the effect wasn't as potent as he wanted. He was too overwhelmed with relief at hearing the sound.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Longbottom," Graces giggled, hiding her wide smile behind a hand and failing. "She's your head of house, it's not my fault you forgot she's also a cat. Also, I wasn't the one who decided to give you a start."

"Oh, so we're back to last names, huh, Malfoy?"

"When you give me that look, yes," Graces replied simply. Taking another bite of her dinner as though to say she was done with that conversation.

Neville shook his head and stood up. McGonagall was still in her cat form, perched on the edge of his chair and watching him with what he swore was amusement. Neville stifled the urge to shoo her off his seat and waited for her to move away. When McGonagall transformed back she sat in her chair and looked very pleased with herself.

Neville considered for a moment and then said, "A dog wouldn't have done that."

Both women laughed and the debate continued. The awkwardness had faded away and Neville noted that Graces had even finished her meal at some point between all the conversation. He began clearing the plates when Graces asked McGonagall if she always knew she would be a cat. He missed the answer as the water from the sink made it hard to hear.

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"Not quite. I thought I would be something in the feline family, but I didn't know specifically that I would be a cat."

"Did you think yourself a lioness?"Graces asked, her tone teasing. She could totally see a Gryffindor thinking of themselves with such grandeur.

"I am a lioness, Miss Malfoy," McGonagall quipped. "Have you seen the scar on your father's right shoulder?"

Graces stilled. "You did that?" she whispered.

The older woman just smiled. "I always wondered if it was your father under that mask. Thank you for confirming."

Graces was taken aback for a second time. She stared at the woman across from her for a long while. "You could have been in Slytherin," she stated finally.

"I almost was."

"You were not."

"I was. It took that hat five and a half minutes to finally make a decision."

"Neville had a long sorting too, come to think of it," Graces wondered aloud, she looked around and realized that Neville still wasn't back from the kitchen.

"I was arguing with the hat," Neville called out. "I wanted Hufflepuff and it was already decided on Gryffindor. Wouldn't listen to a word I was saying."

Graces stood from the table and walked over to the kitchen where Neville was bent over the sink scrubbing a pot.

"What are you doing?" she asked, coming up on his left side.

"The dishes," Neville said slowly.

Graces was silent for a moment. "That's for house elves to do."

"I don't see any house elves around, do you?"

"Of course not. Any good house elf would make sure to not be seen."

Neville gave her a small amused smile that let her know there would be a discussion later. Graces probably would have wondered more on it if she wasn't so taken with his presence. Neville went back to the dishes and her eyes wandered to how Neville's sleeves were rolled up just slightly below his elbows- similar to how he rolled them up in the Greenhouse. And he had that same calmness to him in this moment. She flushed and looked away.

"Aren't there spells for that?" She drawled, trying to put some distance between her thoughts.

"Probably, but I don't know them," Neville shrugged, looking over at her and grinning. She couldn't help her smile back and prayed that no one could notice the heat on her cheeks. She had a feeling Neville did though from the happily surprised—maybe even slightly proud—way he lifted his brows as he turned back to the dishes.

"You need to wipe that smile off your face before McGonagall comes in."

Neville's grin grew even wider. "You're the one thinking of shagging me in our Professor's kitchen."

"Don't flatter yourself, Longbottom. I was only thinking of how nice your smile was."

"Sure," Neville chuckled.

Graces playfully smacked his arm. "I was! I was thinking things, but not that."

"And what _things_ are you thinking?" Neville asked, rinsing off the last of the pots.

Graces shook her head. "Stupid sentimental things," she whispered.

"I'd like to hear them."

"Oh, yes, because it wouldn't be awkward at all if McGonagall walked in on us having a moment."

"I think she is pointedly allowing us a bit of privacy," Neville pointed out. "So what were you thinking."

Graces was going to continue to push away from answering, but then she thought of all that Neville must have gone through in the past few days and all the worry she had seen on his face.

"I was thinking how you always had such a nice smile," Graces admitted, playing with the ring on her finger.

Neville snorted. "Maybe after you fixed my teeth."

"No," Graces shook her head. "I always liked your smile, once I noticed it. I—" Graces paused and tried to not be too embarrassed. "I noticed it before our night in the Greenhouse. When you smile it's—it's always so genuine. You smile with your eyes as much as your mouth." Graces bit her lip. "And your eyes are always so warm and—"

"Kind," Neville finished quietly, those very eyes completely consuming her. Graces stared at him unsurely. "You've mentioned it a few times," he said, his voice telling her how dear he held those words.

Graces let out a breathy laugh. "And here I was worried we were fragile."

Neville tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and let his hand linger gently against her neck. "We're not." She stared up at him and this time actually believed the words he was saying. "So now that dinner is over you should go be with Draco."

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Graces found Draco in the Slytherin common room brooding in the chair—their chair—that stared out into the murky belly of the lake. She bit her lip and remembered all the times she and her brother had curled up in that same chair together and wrote essays, studied, gossiped or even just stared out as he was doing now. Now the chair looked too small for them to sit in together. She couldn't imagine being that close physically to someone other than Neville. A new pain welled up in her at the realization and she hated what she had lost in the past few months.

Still she approached Draco anyways and ignored her discomfort as she nudged him over and joined him in the armrest. Her whole left side touching his whole right. He didn't feel the same she realized. He was taller, harder and sitting next to him like this made her think of sitting next to her father. She tried to work out if that was because Draco was becoming more of a man or if it was because she was not used to him any longer.

Draco eyed her coldly for a moment before turning back away to look at the lake. She reached out tentatively for his hand and wasn't surprised when he moved it away.

"I have secrets," she whispered, the words falling around her like snow. She let them drift into the world and wondered if they would melt before Draco saw them.

"Yeah, I assumed."

Graces chewed her lip and tried to swallow down the emotion building in her throat. "I'm going to tell you them, Draco, but—" she shook her head. "I can't tell you now," she said, her eyes falling down to her lap as tears escaped her. "Not yet."

"Why?"

She knew she deserved this. The hostility and disgust in her brother's words, his refusal to look at her even.

"Because you will hate me for it and I'm scared to lose you."

She felt Draco shift and knew that he had moved to look at her, but she continued to stare down like the coward she was. She had bitten through her bottom lip and the coppery taste of blood was now filling her mouth, but she hardly noticed it. Draco's eyes were on her and she felt as though he could see what she had done.

"I hate you a little now," he finally said hollowly. "I hate you for not being here, for not enduring this with me."

"I have not been there for you, but trust me Draco I have endured this."

"We should have endured it together, not apart."

Graces swallowed. "I didn't want to endure it with you."

"Why?"

"Because I can't bear seeing you in pain," she admitted, looking up at her brother now and seeing the briefest flash of emotion that was not disdain. "And I don't think you could have borne to see mine."

Draco looked away from her and she saw his jaw tremble slightly as he reined in his own tears.

"I couldn't give you my pain because you had too much and you couldn't give me yours because I had too much. I think—I think if I didn't separate we would have just fallen into despair."

"That's not what would have happened."

"No, you're right. Because you would have tried to hold me up." She held Draco's eyes and felt her resolve strengthen. "Better you be without me then have to carry me."

"So you didn't want to see my pain thus you ignored it?" Draco asked hatefully.

Graces closed her eyes and nodded. "I'm sorry. You will never know how sorry."

"I need you."

"I'm here now," Graces swore, her voice breaking. "I am. No more. I am here and I am going to be here no matter what. I'll be here even if you cast me out and never want to see me again, I'll still be here just waiting for you."

"Why the change?"

_My demons are being held by someone else. Someone far more capable of handling them._ "I can't tell you yet."

"That's right," Draco deadpanned. "Your _secrets_."

Graces nodded, but didn't offer to tell him what they were.

"How long do you plan on keeping these secrets from me? Can I expect to know why I may hate you soon?"

"Soon," Graces promised weakly.

"And if I demand to know now?"

Graces shuddered at the thought.

"Just tell me, Graces. Let this be over now."

Graces bit her lip and looked up at Draco for a moment, before looking down at her shoes. "I-I'm madly in love with Neville Longbottom. Like, madly in love with him. Can't breathe at the thought of losing him kind of love."

She looked up to see Draco staring down at her, his brows to his hairline, before he tilted his head back and laughed exuberantly.

"Gods, I missed you," he grinned, moving and holding her close to him. Graces scowled, her mind going silent as she tried to figure out why Draco was hugging her and not strangling her. "I can't believe you're continuing that disgusting joke."

She felt all the air leave her lungs at his words. She sat there limply as Draco held her close to him.

"Fine," he murmured against her hair. "You tell me when you're ready. Just... stay with me this time. I need you."

"I need you," Graces breathed, closing her eyes and taking in her brother's warmth. "I am so sorry."

"You're forgiven." Draco leaned away from here and took on a more serious and gentle expression. "But you can't be friends with Longbottom anymore, Graces. I'm sorry."

Graces felt her heart drop to her stomach. "What? Why—no—we—"

"This isn't an order from your brother, this is an order from your patriarch. You two cannot be friends and I want you to tell Professor Sprout that you cannot be partners with him any longer."

"But we've already done most of our end of the year project together. Professor Sprout—"

"Then drop the class," Draco said patiently.

"I can't get into a healer program if I—"

"Graces," Draco murmured gently, taking her hand. "I think we both know you won't be going into a healer program."

And it was true, she realized. She hadn't thought about a healer program in so long and she wouldn't allow herself to because she knew what her true paths were. A lump grew in her throat at hearing the truth said aloud.

"I'm sorry," Draco said quietly. "I imagine you know this, but it's still difficult to hear out loud. But I need you to hear it," he continued. "I need you to be more present and to start making decisions like an adult, someone equal to me because frankly it would be nice to be able to lean on you."

"Am I not equal to you now?" Graces scowled. Draco had never acted as though they weren't equal.

"No we're not, because if we were you would be making adult decisions like me. Such as knowing better than to be friends with Neville Longbottom because you wanted to protect your family." He gave her a pointed look that she had seen a thousand times from her mother, but had her father's irritation behind it.

She turned away, her stomach turning as she thought about her family.

"This is better for everyone," Draco insisted. "It's better for Longbottom as well. Have you considered how he will feel after?"

He didn't need to explain what after was. Graces bit the tip of her tongue. There was not going to be an after, because she had already prevented Draco from succeeding at his task. If she were a better sister she would come clean now, but Draco's reaction still frightened her. He didn't even want her and Neville to be friends, what would he think or do if he knew the truth?

"We're a very selfish breed," Draco sighed, leaning back into the chair and closing his eyes as if this talk was exhausting to him. "I'm not sure what exactly you get out of your friendship with Longbottom." He paused for a moment. "Aside from his helping us to get Octavian, but whatever it is you can do without. I'm here now and you have Graham and Thomas as well. What more do you need?"

"Nothing, I suppose," she murmured, knowing full well all that Neville gave her. All the ways that he completed her that she still didn't fully understand.

"Then it's settled."

"Professor Sprout is going to want to know why I want a new partner," she whispered.

"Say he makes you feel uncomfortable."

Graces scowled. "He doesn't."

"Well, _she_ doesn't know that."

"I won't say that, Draco."

"I really don't care what you say," Draco muttered irritatedly. "Just get a new partner or drop the class. I could not care less which one it is."

"Understood," she whispered, standing up to go to bed. She thought about what was going to happen tomorrow and suddenly felt sick with worry. She had to talk with Neville, but she didn't know how to talk to him before first period and—

She jolted as she felt Draco's hand take hers. He was still leaning tiredly on the chair, but his eyes were completely vibrant as he stared up at her.

"Ever since we were little our plan was to be together. To be ourselves with one another. I would do whatever Father expected of me for work, live the life he wanted. And you would do what was expected of you—you had more wiggle room than I did—but my point is that at the end of the day we always said we would have each other. We could make mum and dad proud, maintain our family name, and be who we wanted to be. No one would be disappointed and we would still be happy."

"Is that still true?"

"Is what still true?" she echoed in confusion.

"Could you still be happy? If you're not a healer, if you have to be what our family needs and not what you want."

She stood there for a long while. Stood there as she let go of everything she had planned for her life. Some of it she didn't mind seeing go. She thought about the kind of pureblood boys her parents would approve of and she felt relieved that she had found something better for herself. But other things hurt. Things Draco didn't know because he wasn't aware of just how far she had strayed. There would be no healing program, but it wasn't as devastating as there being no more mum and dad. Her parents would never accept Neville.

She looked at her brother with more determination than she had before to rekindle their relationship. Maybe if they were as strong in their bond as they had once been he would accept this. Maybe what Neville said could be true. They could have a life together and Draco would be a part of that life.

"So long as I have the people I love I will be happy."


	100. Chapter 100

"Mr. Longbottom, I need to speak with you before your first period," McGonagall instructed as she walked by the Gryffindor table.

Neville frowned. He wondered what was so important that it couldn't wait until tonight at dinner. He looked over at Graces who was sitting with Draco chatting about something inconsequential it seemed and sucking a bit of marmalade innocently from the knuckle of her thumb. Neville looked away quickly and buried the thoughts that came with that image before redirecting his thoughts to why McGonagall wanted to speak to him.

"Morning," Harry yawned, sitting across from Neville and blocking his view.

"Morning," Neville echoed, still a bit distracted.

"Ron and Hermione are still coming down, thought I would sneak out a bit early when I saw you left."

Neville blinked a few times. "Oh," he said lamely.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "So... how are things?"

"Um, good."

"Good." Harry pursed his lips slightly. "And, Graces?" he asked hushly.

Neville flushed a bit. "Also good."

"Good..."

Neville watched as Harry seemed to be struggling for words. Neville felt a bit bad, he knew Harry wanted to be more of a friend, but he also wasn't sure how he felt talking about Graces.

"You know we should have like a code word for her or something," Harry said after a long, awkward silence. "Maybe when I ask about your Gran it could be me asking about Graces."

Neville's brows furrowed uncomfortably at the thought of that association. "I, uh, don't really like the idea of thinking of my Gran when talking about my relationship with Graces. But a code word would be good, especially if you are going to be asking me about her in the open like this." Neville gave Harry a pointed look which told the raven-haired boy how much he disliked that he was asking him about Graces right now, even if the Gryffindor table was practically empty with it being so early.

"Right, sorry," Harry flushed, pursing his lips together as he thought further. "What about a plant?"

Neville let out a wisp of a laugh. "A plant would work."

"Grand... so what plant would you want to use? Uh, I mean when you think of her what would—"

Neville narrowed his eyes. "Harry, I am not so much of a sap that I am going to poetically compare her to a rose or something."

"I mean a rose would work. Lots of layers, pretty, thorns."

"Got a bit of a crush on my girl, Potter?" Neville asked, taking a bite out of his toast.

"Piss off," Harry laughed.

"It's fine," Neville grinned. "I mean I can't blame you now can I. Do you want me to put a good word in? I'm sure she will love that rose comment. I'll make sure to tell her."

"If you even breathe that to Malfoy, Nev, I swear I will hex you into next week."

Neville chuckled. "No promises, Harry. I think she would get a right laugh out of that one."

Harry muttered a few words into his porridge bowl that would lose them at least twelve house points per word, before asking in a very patronizing manner. "So how is your rose?"

"Good... growing, which is difficult I think considering the soil it had come from, but I think this year's changes have made it stronger. New pot, new soil—"

"New gardener," Harry added.

Neville chuckled. "I've done very little. It grew on its own."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It's true. Maybe I've brought some new ideas to the fertilizer, but that's about it. Perceptive little thing, lots of obstacles to grow around and by Merlin she figures out a way to wind herself to where she wants to be."

"I thought you weren't going to be sappy," Harry teased.

Neville made a gesture to Harry that his Gran would have grounded him a week for and then returned to his breakfast. Harry laughed and they fell into silence. Neville's mind was just beginning to wander back to why McGonagall wanted to talk to him when Harry's voice pulled his attention back.

"Listen, about Draco I—"

Before Harry could finish Ron and Hermione entered the hall. Neville silently thanked his luck and began packing to leave. He had a feeling he should address this with him, but he wasn't ready to do that now. And honestly all he was going to tell Harry was what he told him the other night. It was being handled and he can't talk about it.

"Morning, Nev," Ron yawned.

"Mornin'" Neville greeted, snagging an apple for his satchel.

"Neville," Hermione greeted, nodding her head. Neville looked up at her for a moment, before pointedly deciding that he was still too angry with her. "Leaving so soon?"

"Still not talking to you," Neville stated firmly, swinging his bag over his shoulder and leaving.

He heard Ron's utter confusion as well as Harry's, but he didn't care. Hermione had crossed a bloody line and he wasn't going to forgive her that trespass anytime soon. He was so engrossed with these thoughts that he completely forgot about Professor McGonagall's request. When he entered Herbology Graces wasn't at their desk, he found her over with Professor Sprout speaking quietly at her desk. The conversation seemed to not be going well based on Sprout's crossed arms and pursed lips.

He chewed the inside of his lip for a moment before setting his things down and tentatively approaching. Professor Sprout looked up at him and seemed even more determined to win whatever argument was occuring.

"I suggest you take a seat, Miss Malfoy, my answer is no."

Neville looked at Graces, who looked at him despondently, but didn't move to her seat.

"If you won't assign me another partner then I will drop the class."

Neville's eyes widened considerably at her words.

"If you drop the class then you will not be able to enter a healer program after your graduation," Sprout reminded. "But that is your choice."

"Fine," Graces nodded.

"Wait—" Neville started, completely caught off guard by what was occuring, but refusing to allow her to leave. "What are you doing?"

"I am dropping the class," Graces stated firmly, glancing at Neville's hand that was inappropriately on her waist, a gesture she only allowed in private. Neville moved his hand and stared at her.

"You can't," Neville exclaimed desperately. "You-you—"

His chest suddenly felt very tight and he could feel emotions rising up in him that he thought he would never have to feel again.

"Did you change your mind?" Neville asked, unable to stop his voice from breaking.

Graces' narrowed her eyes and glanced at Sprout for a moment. "No," she said firmly.

"Then why are you doing this?" Neville demanded, still unable to hide his own emotion.

"Changed her mind about what?" Professor Sprout asked curiously, now moving from around her desk so she was on the same side as her students.

"Neville," Graces whispered dangerously. "You need to control yourself. Immediately. Everything is fine."

"You will never get into a healer program," Neville reminded. "You cannot drop this class. You—"

"I am not going to be a healer."

Neville stared at her. "What?" he whispered.

"What do you mean you're not going to be a healer," Neville demanded, circling around Graces when she moved to leave.

"Stop it, Neville," Graces snarled.

"Why are you doing this?"

"You are causing a scene."

"What do you mean you're not going to be a healer?" He demanded just as savagely.

Graces glanced at the Greenhouse door where just beyond students were walking to the Greenhouse. "People are coming. Do you really want to have this out now?" she asked, her voice trembling. "I need you to be practical. I think we both know I won't be a healer so this doesn't matter. What does matter is how you are acting right now."

Neville looked at the people coming in and knew she was right. He needed to let her go. He felt sick, he thought of what this meant to Graces and he didn't understand how she could walk away.

"I think you can be a healer," he whispered, voice shaking as he moved out of her way so she could leave. He could feel the tears welling up and he wanted to leave as well, but had a feeling Professor Sprout wouldn't allow it.

He looked over at his Professor. "Our project is done, we're basically just baby sitting it for the rest of the year. She-she can have it. Can't you let her switch, or switch me. I—She's passing the class. She—"

"I am aware, Neville," Professor Sprout said with more patience than he probably deserved. "I pointed this out to Miss Malfoy as well. I also pointed out that if I switched her she would not get credit for the project you two have completed. I asked her for a reason and she wouldn't give one. And I will not disrupt my class and switch her partners without a good reason."

Neville bit the inside of his cheek and racked his brain for a good reason to switch.

"We're just not working out well as partners," he tried to explain. "I—"

"I know that's not true," Professor Sprout said patiently. "There's been a few times it seemed you two were actually enjoying each other's company."

"I kissed her," Neville blurted out. "I kissed her and I-I think she's uncomfortable now."

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Miss Malfoy! Miss Malfoy!"

Graces turned as Sprout ran towards her very clumsily from the Greenhouse. When the older woman saw she stopped she stopped running and began walking and gesturing for her to come. Graces paused unsure as to what was happening, but she tentatively began to walk towards the Hufflepuff.

Professor Sprout was still a bit winded when Graces got to her. She gave the other woman a moment to smooth out her robes and gather herself. For a brief moment she wondered if she was about to lean on her, but Graces had a feeling her general disposition prevented the other woman from being so familiar.

"You may switch partners. I am assigning you to work with with Miss Granger."

Graces scowled. "Why?"

Spout gestured to the side with her head. "Neville told me what happened."

Graces frown increased. "What happened?" she asked slowly.

Sprout folded her hands gently in front of her and Graces tried to figure out why she was seeing such pity in the older woman's eyes. "That he kissed you and now you feel uncomfortable. Which is understandable," she said pointedly, giving Graces a meaningful look. "After what happened to you—it is completely understandable that you wouldn't want to remain partners with Neville."

For a moment she didn't understand what Sprout was talking about and then it began to dawn on her. Graces eyes widened in mortification as she realized her professor was talking about what happened to her with Knott.

"Neville didn't do anything like that," Graces said quickly.

"I didn't think he did. But you made your feelings about Neville very clear earlier in the year, and he clearly has not respected your feelings or your boundaries. I plan to talk with him regarding that," Sprout declared, her eyes sparking with fury and protectiveness.

Graces felt her heart beating out of her chest. She had allowed Neville to make sacrifices on her behalf many times, but this was not one she would allow. Not when it could hurt his chances of a career he wanted. Not when it would lose him Sprout's good will.

"Neville did kiss me, back in September, and I kissed him back. And have been kissing him ever since."

Sprout blinked in surprise.

"What? Then why—"

"My family doesn't know about the kiss, or my feelings towards Neville, but they do feel that my friendship with him is not appropriate." Graces swallowed, but continued on with as much dignity as she could muster. "It has been made clear to me that they will not allow it to continue. So I was given the option to get a new partner or to drop the class."

"You know they can't make you do that."

"Yes, they can," Graces stated firmly, taking a deep breath and looking about the grounds. "I love my family. And for sixteen years I lived my life as the daughter my parents have wanted and expected me to be. I am not ready for my family to realize that I am not what they wanted. I'm not ready to lose that love."

"And your relationship with Neville?"

"That's private. And must remain so," Graces added quietly.

Professor Sprout seemed to be trying to wrap her head around this new information.

"I am sorry about... all of this," Graces waived her hand around as though that explained it all. "I'm sorry Neville lied to you—well, didn't lie so much as mislead you. Understand he did it to protect me."

"Is there more he needs to protect you from?"

"Yes. I know you want to help me, but I'm fine. Professor McGonagall is helping me, helping us. What I do need from you is discretion and a different Herbology partner."

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Graham waited for Draco to show up to work on the cabinet. He actually hadn't been speaking with Draco or Graces since the earlier incident. He wasn't speaking to anyone. He had been so utterly stupid. He had done exactly what he had warned Graces would be her downfall. He sat in the room of requirement and wondered whose sins were greater. His or Graces'?

Longbottom was at least a pureblood. Graces could cling to that if she needed to. He didn't have that even. Not that he believed it mattered, but in some ways it did. His deviancy would be thought more disgusting than Graces'. Hers was one of loyalty to principles. People in their circle—though they label Neville a blood traitor—still saw him as a wizard, as human. The people he associated with wouldn't even consider Wamil that.

He ran a hand through his hair and tried to not think of Wamil so much. It didn't do him any good. He had his night and it was over. He had sworn to himself that this would be over and he was going to maintain that promise.

"Evening," Draco mumbled, walking in through the door and holding an assortment of books and parchment.

Graham lifted his chin in greeting, before his mind was once again swallowed up by his own thoughts. Draco opened up a few parchments he had with notes scribbled about and tossed his cloak down on a chair before rolling up his sleeves to work. Graham looked over at the mark Draco had branded on his arm, taking in the inky black against his alabaster skin. Draco noticing his stare turned to him, his gray eyes waiting for him to make a remark to break the silence. Graham looked away from the challenge. If anything he didn't even feel like he could talk with Draco, not with this lie between them.

The thing was he really wanted to talk with Draco. Draco was the only one he did talk to these days. His family wanted nothing to do with him. Sure, they let him lead, but no one seemed to approve of him. He was a stain against their beautiful tapestry. It didn't matter that the Higgs were slaughtered, that neutrality wasn't tolerated, they hated him for overthrowing his father. They hated him for being the one to make the hard decision. Draco understood though.

"I'm not doing anything with your sister," Graham said quietly, still too nervous to meet Draco's eyes. "I wouldn't do that."

"Well, I'm kind of counting on you to do that," Draco mumbled. Graham could hear that Draco was reading something, he didn't even need to look up to know that the blonde had that tone when he was reading.

"Our arrangement will be maintained," Graham flushed. "But it's not like that between the two of us."

"What exactly is it like?" Draco asked, his attention still not focused on Graham.

"I don't know."

"It seems to me that you two are barely friends right now," Draco answered for him. "In fact you seem angry with her." Graham allowed his silence to be answer enough. "You've seemed angry with her after _the incident_."

Graham said nothing. He had a feeling that while Draco never reprimanded him for the things he said to Graces in the hospital wing, he didn't truly forgive him for it. He imagined that Draco had very mixed emotions regarding that night. Feeling grateful that his sister lived and also feeling much like Graham did in thinking her actions selfish and weak.

"I know you love Graces," he said quietly. "But I need you to know that I don't."

Draco finally looked up from his papers, his gray eyes flashing with anger. "For fuck's sake, Graham. I really don't need this right now."

Graham finished as Draco tossed shoved away the old rickety desk he was working on. "I'm going to die!" the blonde shouted. "Do you understand that? I am going to bloody die! I'm never going to finish this damn cabinet and I am never going to complete this task and I am going to die!"

"Draco," Graham started, trying to remember where he was going with this. Damning himself for not being able to speak well regarding his own feelings.

"You know what I have?" Draco asked angrily. "I only have comfort in knowing Graces will not die. That's it. That's all I have!"

"Draco, please. Calm down and listen to—"

"And now—NOW—you decide it's a good time to tell me that you don't love my sister." Draco laughed in a way that made Graham take a few steps back. "That's just great to hear, Graham. So not only am I going to die, but I have no idea what I am leaving my sister to."

"I never said I loved your sister," Graham said calmly.

"No, you didn't," Draco sighed, his voice sounding choked with emotion. "But the way you just said you didn't leads me to believe that you don't see love coming. I have a feeling you don't even like her."

"I like her," Graham said flatly, not knowing what he should say but knowing better than to say it was complicated.

"I'm not stupid," Draco sniffed. "I know she's different. I know she's keeping things from me. She even told me she was." Draco drew in a deep breath and gathered himself more. "She also told me today—before you—that you two were not seeing one another."

"She did?" Graham asked, surprised.

"Graces wants to try," Draco said eventually. Laying himself bare with vulnerability. "She wants to be—I don't know—my sister again?"

Graham suppressed a scoff. He didn't see how Graces could ever be what she was to Draco without coming clean. And if she came clean he didn't know that Draco could forgive her. He had a hard time forgiving her these days.

_"Hypocrite,"_ a tiny voice whispered in his mind.

"She's said this before, as you know, but this time she seems to mean it."

Graham stared at Draco leaning against the cabinet and realized that Draco needed to believe this. All of his feelings regarding Graces aside, Draco needed to believe he could have her back. And he needed to believe that she was going to be taken care of.

"I will always take care of Graces, Draco," Graham swore slowly. Draco glanced at him and then away. "I will," Graham repeated more passionately.

"You don't even like her," Draco said thickly.

Graham swallowed and tried to sort through all his feelings regarding Graces. Regarding both Malfoys. "You're my best friend," Graham forced himself to say. "The animosity I have towards Graces is because I want her to be and do better by you. I will take care of Graces, because I made that promise to you. So regardless of whether she is good to you, I will be. Graces will be taken care of the way you want her to be because I have promised you that, so you don't need to worry about Graces. It's not about the money, or the agreement we all made months ago, it's about our friendship and how I plan to honor that. You worry about how your sister will be treated and that's not something you need to worry about. I will treat her well because she is _your_ sister."

Graham's focus remained on Draco, despite the fact that Draco clearly wished his focus was elsewhere. When Arella died he had no one. He never realized how much he had loved her until she was gone. He had taken for granted the fact that she had always been there and he had assumed she would always remain so. He had so many other sisters, but he realized that he had loved Arella the most. They had this bond—not like the one Graces and Draco had—but Arella understood him better than anyone else in their family.

He had taken the Mark to save his other sisters, save his parents. But in doing so, in humiliating his father, he also isolated himself. And dealing with the grief and pain alone may have broken him more, but Draco had been there. He still couldn't bear to talk about it, at least not the way he probably should. But Draco had this odd ability to know _how_ to be there. He knew when to be quiet, when to prattle on about something to take him away from certain thoughts. He also had this sense of knowing when and how to comfort without actually coming out and comforting. On days when Graham had felt completely alone Draco somehow reminded him that he wasn't. Whether that be his hand resting on his shoulder as he read something Graham was holding or him unceremoniously dragging Graham through the hall to talk to him about something. He hated to be touched and Draco seemed to avoid touching him as much as possible. But on those days, the really bad ones, Draco always found a way to touch him.

And Draco never judged him. Never looked at him differently when he did say something. He had once in anger mentioned that he didn't understand why Arella had to die, why his sister couldn't be spared. She wasn't a Higgs by blood after all. It was after Graham had said all this that he realized that he was also saying that it was okay his nephews were killed. The realization had horrified him, but Draco had listened and there had been no disgust in his eyes as Graham had said all this. And when the self hatred had begun to sweep through him at the implications of what he said, Draco had just put his hand on his and said "You didn't mean it like that."

For months Graham had become a pillar of strength for Draco to lean on, but Draco had been that pillar first. He knew what Draco felt for him and he could never return that. But he could return his friendship and he planned to do so.

Draco took in a shaking breath and rubbed his eyes angrily. "Do you have a love sonnet for me as well or are you done?"

Graham scoffed. "You wish, Malfoy."

Draco let out a breathy laugh and took a few deep breaths. "I don't want to ruin this moment, but I need to know something." Graham frowned and waited as Draco gathered himself. The blonde twisted his wand a few times in his hands before seeming to steady himself. "Graces lied the other night. I know that," he said slowly. "But you went along with it."

"I'm sorry," Graham said, closing his eyes and actually feeling remorseful.

Draco waived away the apology. "That's not what I'm looking for. I—" Draco stopped and closed his eyes for a moment and willed himself to go on. "Graces has a secret. I know that, but the other night leads me to believe that so do you. And that both of you know what the other one is hiding."

"Am I right?" Draco stared into Graham's eyes, and waited.

A sinking feeling over took Graham and he faltered as a wave of nausea overtook him. He tried his best to not let it get to him and when he went to reply it was clear that Draco knew the answer. "Yes."

Draco seemed to be evaluating him, but even with those gray eyes taking him in he couldn't find it in him to be scared of Draco.

"Do I want to know?" Draco asked.

"No."

"To both of your secrets? Or just yours?"

"Both," Graham whispered.

Draco frowned slightly. "Graces said that she will tell me hers. In time," Draco added. "Will you tell me yours in time?"

"No."

"Why?"

Graham took a breath through his nose. "Because you are safer not knowing."

Draco seemed to be taking this information in. His eyes darting slightly across the floor as though he were reading a list of the implications of what all that could mean.

"Is Graces' secret tied to Thomas'?"

"Thomas has a secret?" Graham scowled.

Draco nodded. "I don't know what it is. He seems scared to tell me."

"I had no idea Thomas was hiding anything," Graham breathed, now trying to remember if the younger boy seemed off.

Draco rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "I don't know what it is. I just know he has one. He's been on edge as of late and I thought maybe it was tied to Graces' secret since he is fearful of my finding out."

Graham shook his head. "It's not."

The older boy suddenly hated himself more for his own weaknesses. He wished he could be the friend Draco deserved. He was keeping things from him just like all the other people in his life.

"Graham," Draco said quietly. "I need to know. How bad is Graces' secret?"

"As bad as mine," Graham said tightly. "Maybe slightly less so. Maybe worse," Graham amended, not really knowing himself which was worse.

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "Can't you just tell me?"

"If Graces is planning on telling you, then I'm going to let her do so. I won't rob her of that."

"She thinks I will hate her once I know."

"You might."

The flash of fear that dashed across Draco's face at his words let Graham know that Draco had been praying that wasn't true, that he had hoped Graces declaration was theatrics.

Draco sat down and Graham pitied him in that moment. He looked devastated just thinking that there could be something Graces had done that was unforgivable. He didn't know how Draco would react once he actually found out.

"I don't think I want to know," Draco whispered.

Graham didn't think there were any more words left to say for the night. So he didn't try and put any together. He just sat there next to his friend and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 


	101. Chapter 101

"You can't seriously still be mad," Graces deadpanned, looking at Neville across the table with a mixture of irritation and exasperation.

Neville flushed slightly around his collar and muttered that he would rather have this conversation in private.

McGonagall took another spoonful of stew and thought about how interesting her dinners were going to be for the rest of the term. Neville and Graces were probably better than muggle television for entertainment.

"When are we ever alone to have a private conversation?" Graces muttered irritatedly, pushing her food around.

"I give you two plenty of time to be alone," McGonagall pointed out.

"You're still around here, just in another room. Neville won't fight if you're able to hear us."

Neville shifted uncomfortably and it was obvious that he was grinding his teeth to keep himself from saying something unfortunate.

"You two can put up silencing charms. I wouldn't mind," McGonagall suggested. "Though I am interested in why you're upset, Mr. Longbottom."

"He's not upset. He's rather furious," Graces supplied, taking a bite of her food when she noticed McGonagall's pointed look.

Neville didn't at all seem happy with Graces' new found openness and for a brief moment she wondered if Neville was going to remain tight lipped just to spite her.

"Fine. You want to have this out now, here. Fine." Neville put down his spoon and crossed his arms sullenly. "You shouldn't have told Professor Sprout."

"I explained why I did. I—"

"I don't care," Neville snapped. "You shouldn't have told her. We shouldn't be telling anyone. It's not safe, Graces. You know it isn't safe."

"Are you worried Sprout is going to get me killed? Seriously?"

"We shouldn't trust _anyone_ ," Neville stressed.

Graces cocked her head over to McGonagall. "You don't seem to have a problem with Professor McGonagall knowing."

Neville opened his mouth to say something and then closed it abruptly. Minerva felt bad for him as he seemed to be trying to figure out what to say regarding this.

"Do you have a problem with my knowledge, Neville?" She asked simply, curious herself to the answer.

"No."

"But you don't like Sprout knowing?"

"I don't."

"Why?"

Neville ran his fingers through his hair. "She didn't need to know, so I would have rathered that she didn't."

"But she knows now," Graces shrugged. "So why is it so horrible that she knows? Do you not trust her? Think she's working for the Dark Lord?" Graces teased, rolling her eyes at how ridiculous that idea was.

"I really hate when you do that," Neville warned, giving Graces a meaningful look. "You don't have to be condescending to make your point."

Graces raised an eyebrow. "You're being ridiculous. You can't get mad at me for being bored with this discussion when you can't explain to me why it is that you're so upset."

"I have explained."

Graces snorted and took another bite of her stew. "Then your reasoning is dumb and you need to get over yourself."

"Graces," McGonagall cut in before Neville could reply. "Can we agree that how you're talking to Neville right now isn't appropriate?"

Neville stared at her from where he was seated. His face blank and body still as he seemed to be trying to decide if he wanted this conversation to move in this direction. He glanced over at Graces and the older woman realized that he was not happy. Neville apparently did not want Graces scolded for this. Minerva considered for a second if that was because Neville wanted to fight his own battles, or if it was because he didn't like her taking this role in their relationship. She decided she didn't care.

"Belittling Neville's feelings and concerns is not only wrong, it's not healthy in a romantic relationship. You don't get to say that he's being ridiculous or that he's dumb."

"I didn't say he was dumb," Graces pointed out quickly. "I said his reasoning was."

"Calling his reasoning dumb is basically calling him dumb."

"No it's—"

"Miss Malfoy, I will not argue this with you," Professor McGonagall stated firmly. "I am telling you. Now, couples fight, and I can already tell you and Mr. Longbottom will have many grand fights to come, but you cannot belittle him to win an argument."

Graces pursed her lips and glanced over at Neville before glaring back at her.

"Now, I am not going to make you apologize, because you're not five, but I will say if we continue this conversation it will be with more respect."

"I don't want to continue this conversation," Neville said, not looking at either of them.

"No, you just want to continue to be angry," Graces scoffed.

"Graces," McGonagall warned.

The blonde flushed, but offered no apology.

"I want to talk about this," Graces said, being very careful to make her tone more inviting.

Neville shook his head and became very focused on eating his dinner.

"You're upset because you think I acted impulsive and put myself in danger, but I really didn't, Nev. I thought about it—I did!" Graces exclaimed when Neville looked up at her with a look that said he didn't believe her.

"If you thought about it why couldn't it have waited 'til later, after class when you could talk with me about your decision? Why did you just tell her? That's impulsive to me."

"I thought it out and made a decision. I knew you wouldn't agree to the decision, because you're way too self sacrificing and—"

"I am not self-sacrificing," Neville argued.

"Yes, you are. And you know it."

"Fine, you want to talk about this so badly. Let's talk about it," Neville said, letting his spoon clatter into the bowl. "I think you're being self destructive."

"Excuse me?" Graces asked, her tone deadly.

"You heard me. You have this tendency to act impulsively and when you do that it's always at the risk of yourself. Who we tell, Graces, is who we are trusting with your life. Your life!"

"So you _don't_ trust Professor Sprout?" Graces asked incredulously.

"Not with your life! Absolutely not! There is only one person that I trust right now knowing and she is sitting at this table," Neville said savagely. "I don't want anyone else knowing."

"You were fine telling Luna," Graces pointed out. "You were trying to argue that I should trust her that—"

"Don't," Neville cautioned, his finger pointed out at Graces. "That is different and you know it. I didn't know the stakes, if I had known from the beginning I would have felt very differently about Luna knowing and you know it. And before you bring it up, no, I don't approve of Harry knowing. Especially when he seems to want to talk to me about my relationship with you," Neville griped, as though having a friend who wanted to talk to him about his life was such a trial. McGonagall made a note of that regarding Neville, she hadn't realized to what degree he liked his privacy.

Graces shifted slightly in her seat and McGonagall was happy to see some restraint put on herself before she spoke. "Neville," Graces began with practiced calm. "Have you considered that I'm not doing this out of self destruction, but out of exhaustion?"

Neville stared at her for a moment before admitting that he didn't understand what that meant.

"Aren't you tired of the secrets? Of not being able to just—I don't know—be?"

"No, I'm not. Because being tired and giving up caution is risking your life. And I really hate that you don't seem to care for your life as much as I do," Neville pointed out angrily.

"That's not true," Graces said.

"Do you want me to list all the ways you have been careless with your life?"

Graces eyes narrowed and McGonagall wondered how quickly this was going to turn uncivil.

"May I remind you that _you_ were the one who _forgot_ to talk with McGonagall in the first place?"

Neville's cheeks flushed. "I know, I'm sorry. I am. But that doesn't mean you should have told Sprout. I—"

"You would rather her think you crossed a line?"

"Yes, I would have."

"She would not want to—"

"Graces, who knows where we would be come graduation. I could have explained it later. We—"

"The way I see this is you created a mess by forgetting, something which I didn't even chastise you for," Graces pointed out. "Then you made it worse by getting too emotional in public and I took care of it. It wasn't about self destruction, it was about cleaning up your mess."

"No. You took it on yourself to clean things up. We could have discussed it. You didn't need to take care of it right then," Neville argued, shaking his head. "We could have talked and then went to Sprout. _Together._ A day wouldn't have mattered."

Graces opened her mouth and the older woman could tell another excuse was coming.

"Graces," McGonagall said gently. "Take a moment and think about what Neville is saying, on what he is asking of you."

"I—we don't need a therapist. This isn't supposed to be some sort of couples therapy or whatever," Neville blurted out. "I-I'm really uncomfortable with this. And I'm a little surprised that you are, to be honest," he stated, looking across the table at Graces.

A saddened look came over Graces at Neville's words. She didn't say anything, just stared down into her bowl.

"She's okay with it because if you two had courted properly, by her family's standards, her brother, parents and even your family members would have taken on this role," McGonagall supplied.

"And you would be okay with that? With your family and my family not allowing us to be alone together? With them making the decision of if we are well suited for one another?" Neville asked, scandalized by the idea.

"There's more to it than that," Graces muttered uncomfortably. "That's all just a small part of it and it's not really like that. It just seems like it is on the outside. Draco—" Graces paused and swallowed some emotion. "Draco was always really good about it. He wasn't overbearing, I didn't mind him being involved."

Neville stilled and a moment later his face softened considerably. "Okay," he whispered. "I need more of an explanation I suppose."

"Purebloods—the ones that still adhere to such strict courting—believe that children need to be chaperoned in dating, not just to ensure appropriate behavior, but to teach them how to be in a romantic relationship," McGonagall offered. "They are involved with everything from ensuring dates are appropriate, conversations are being had, no one is being taken advantage of and arguments are handled properly. As well as _resolved_ properly. The thought being that hormonal teenagers don't know how to emotionally handle such relationships without guidance."

"And you think we need that?" Neville asked, clearly trying not to allow any of his thoughts on that show.

Graces shrugged. "I mean it seems we need someone now for this conversation."

"I think we could resolve this just the two of us."

Graces bit her lip and seemed to be trying to decide if she wanted to add more to all of this. "Do our arguments ever really resolve themselves? Or does something just always seem to happen that makes them seem small and we let them go?"

"I can be better," Neville offered. "I—"

"Is it so weird? I mean," she paused and bit her lip. "When we were little our playdates were supervised. To teach us how to behave with our friends, when to apologize, when to share and how to work out disagreements. Why is this so different?"

Neville ran a hand through his hair and his exhaustion on this subject was evident. He looked over at Graces and shook his head with weariness that was far beyond his years. He couldn't. McGonagall realized that while Neville did trust her and wanted her help he didn't want her help here. Graces did and she made a note that she should talk with Graces more regarding her relationship with Neville, but Neville wasn't someone who would want her openly involved. He may confide this or that to her, but he didn't want her role prominent.

"Graces," she said gently. "I am going to leave and give you two some privacy. I'll be back soon, but you both need to talk."

"You can stay," Neville declared, holding his head in his hands. "It's fine."

She sat for a moment and considered the two teenagers sitting next to her. It wasn't a normal relationship for their age and when she thought about the emotions they both must be feeling she was overwhelmed herself.

"Graces," she started gently, but firm. "Neville wants you two to make these decisions together. And frankly he's right to want to have a say in who knows about the two of you, just as you wouldn't want him to tell people you don't want to. I think that's fair. Do you not?"

Graces looked over at Neville who was just shaking his head and looking down at the table, hating every moment of this.

"Yes," she admitted begrudgingly. "But I don't think it's fair that he says I'm self destructive and decides any decision I make is against my own self interest."

"Neville," McGonagall began, only to be cut off as Neville found his own voice.

"You _are_ self destructive," he countered tightly, folding his arms around himself. "What do you want me to do, Graces? Ignore it?"

"I am not—"

"Yes you are!"

Neville swallowed a few times and defiant tears escaped him as he angrily rubbed his eyes. The older woman was thankful that Graces seemed to recognize that now was not the time to continue to argue the matter. She sat quietly waiting for Neville to regain himself.

"Neville, maybe you could list some of the things that are concerning you," McGonagall instructed. "Calmly," she added.

Neville shook his head. "Is there really a need? She knows what I'm talking about."

"Hearing it may be helpful," McGonagall insisted. "Is there a particular reason why you don't want to list these incidents?" McGonagall asked, now wondering if there were more sinister things she wasn't aware of.

"No," Neville swore quietly.

"You want things to be a discussion. You have to be willing to talk too."

"You don't eat," Neville started simply, after a few moments of silence. "You don't eat and what you do eat I don't think is enough and-and I know for a fact that you throw it up."

"Not on purpose," Graces cut in.

"I know that," Neville nodded. "But it doesn't change the fact that you don't even seem to try to eat."

"I'm eating now," Graces pointed out, as though the problem was fixed.

"Under watchful eyes," Neville stated, his stare piercing as Graces sat across from him. "I don't think you do things on purpose," Neville continued. "But it's almost like you lack this certain self-awareness. And- and I've just ignored so much of it. I try not to think about it and then when I do, when I sit down and lay it all out, I-I can't breathe," Neville admitted. "When I think about it all I feel like my chest is caving in and I get so overwhelmed that I can't even function."

"But I need to look at it, because ignoring it was doing nothing to help you. Ignoring it all lead to-to terrible things," Neville finished, apparently unable to bring himself to say it. "Merlin, Graces, even sleeping with me was impulsive. What were you thinking? You knew you could be killed for it and you just decided that was a worthwhile cost?"

"We love each other."

"We love each other _now_ ," Neville corrected. "You didn't love me then, nor I you."

"So you regret it?"

"You know I don't," Neville swore. "But it was still impulsive and self destructive."

Graces stared at him from across the table. "We can't keep having this discussion, Neville. It won't work. Every time you're mad at me we can't go back to this."

"Then I need you to address it," Neville demanded. "I need you to address all of this. Because... because it is all I think about."

Graces' brows furrowed delicately. "For the first time in our relationship we have possibilities. A future we can work towards and this is what you're thinking about?" she whispered, in awe of what she was hearing.

"The past few months aren't magically erased for me now that we have help," Neville admitted, not willing to look at either woman. "I can't think of a future because I still wake up in the middle of the night and forget where I am. I find it odd to not be woken up by screaming. And then I can't sleep the rest of the night because I'm terrified something is happening to you. When I do get a moment with you—to embrace you—the first thing my hands do after is linger on your ribs to see if you've lost more weight. I keep thinking about your eye and how you didn't tell me and how stupid I was for not realizing—"

"You couldn't have known," Graces whispered.

"You were always bumping into things," Neville pointed out, his anger and disgust with himself evident. "Always. Spells you were good at you struggled with. I knew something was wrong, but I always looked away."

"Because I pointed you away."

"And there's my point again," Neville said tightly. "Why? Why point me away? Because you knew I would have made you see a healer."

Graces took a shaking breath. "We've discussed this too."

"We never finished that conversation," Neville pointed out tearfully.

Graces wiped away her own tears. "What do you want me to do, Neville? What do you want me to say?"

"I need you to acknowledge this," Neville sniffed. "And stop making me feel like I'm crazy for thinking about it. I need you to admit this about yourself so I can breathe easier. Because if you acknowledge this about yourself then you can be mindful of it, get help for it."

Graces held both her lips tightly by her front teeth and stared up at the ceiling before nodding in agreement. "Okay," she rasped.

"Okay," she repeated, taking in a shuddering breath. "You're right. But I don't know how to stop myself because I don't even realize what I'm doing. You want me to get help, but how am I going to do that?"

"I have connections," McGonagall said quietly, she had wanted to bring this up at some point, but had planned to wait for more of both students' trust. "I won't use your names or even say that you are students of mine. But I have quite a few friends and students that have graduated that went on to become healers. One of which works in Germany specializing in mental health. If you two would allow it I would like to to speak with them regarding both of your situations."

"Both?" Neville asked.

"Neville, do you think it's normal to be so worried that you can't sleep through the night? Or to be so overcome with emotion you can't breath? There are also some things that I think should be addressed that you don't seem to want to talk about yourself. I remember after I first experienced the Cruciatus curse I—"

"I'm fine," Neville stated firmly.

"You were tortured," McGonagall pointed out. "That is not something that people easily forget. You also stabbed a man in the eye and stabbed a peer all in a year. Do you have no feelings regarding that?"

"You think I'm violent?" Neville asked, taken aback.

"No, I know you're not. You've always been a bit more sensitive," McGonagall pointed out, ignoring the way Neville flushed. "I'm just wondering how you really are and how much you're hiding."

Neville ran his hand through his hair and looked over at Graces. "If I agree will you agree?"

Graces eyes widened slightly in shock, before nodding.

"Okay then," Neville murmured.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Neville had been exceptionally quiet the rest of the dinner and he remained just as quiet as they left McGonagall's living quarters. She wasn't sure if she should break the silence, not when Neville seemed to be so absorbed in his own thoughts. She wondered what he was thinking about her or himself. Considering their night it could very well be both.

"Do-do you think I'm unwell?" Neville finally asked, just before they were at the point where they needed to walk separately.

Graces shrugged. "I honestly don't know," she said quietly. "You don't talk to me about those things. Not really."

Neville nodded and went back in his head leaving Graces standing in the hall wondering if she should just leave the night like this.

"I didn't know you were that—" she paused and searched for words, "—affected by everything. I didn't know you weren't sleeping and that you were having panic attacks."

Neville's eyes shifted and he squirmed uncomfortably as she continued to look at him.

"We need to talk to each other, Neville."

"I know we do," he whispered.

"You seem to have a lot of stuff pent up and not just about us..."

Neville blinked and a small frown appeared on his face. He seemed as though he wanted to dismiss what she said, but in the end he reluctantly nodded.

"I appreciate you talking with McGonagall present," Graces said, reaching out for his hand and noting the way Neville checked to make sure no one was around. Confirming just how anxious he was about them now that he knew. "Maybe we could talk privately tonight?"

"I-I don't want to go behind McGonagall's back," Neville muttered. "She doesn't want us sneaking about and—"

"Neville," Graces said patiently. "It's one night. Just to talk and an hour or so each night at dinner will not let us resolve anything. Meet with me, please."

Neville met her eyes and she realized just how much he wanted to meet with her and how much this past week had been a struggle for him. He nodded and a weight seemed to be lifted off of him.

"Grand," Graces smiled, brushing a soft kiss on his cheek and humming happily as Neville turned and kissed her lips.

"Not mad anymore?" she grinned, moving away.

"No," Neville sighed. "Not mad anymore."

"Tonight? After lights out?"

Neville nodded. "You're in for a long night, Miss Malfoy," he warned, giving her a pointed look.

"I know," Graces sighed. "But no fighting. I don't want to fight."

"No fighting," Neville agreed.

"And you have to tell me about how you're feeling," Graces stipulated. "Including how you felt after the Ministry and other things."

"Okay."

"I wish you were happy, Neville," she whispered, her heart sinking as she took in the sadness in him.. "I wanted you so badly to be happy. You were happy it seemed for just a moment, but it faded quickly."

"I am happy," Neville said, moving closer. Graces looked up and gave him a look that told him just how much she believed that.

"I am," Neville swore again, pulling her closer. "I just—" He leaned his head down to touch hers. "You couldn't believe that I wasn't thinking of a future about all our possibilities. I want to, Graces. But when I do, when I lay down at night and try, my thoughts immediately go to how quickly I could lose you."

She closed her eyes as his hands wound through her hair.

"One wrong move. If we trust one wrong person, if I'm careless—much like I'm being now—I could lose you. I could lose you and all those possibilities of our future. Violently," Neville shuddered. "I can't lose you, Graces. Not like that," Neville shook his head against hers and pulled her closer to him so she was tucked underneath his chin. "I couldn't bear it, to have you ripped away from me."

Graces felt his chest shudder with tears and closed her eyes. She had been foolish to tell Sprout and even more foolish to discount how Neville felt regarding it. He was right, he deserved to be involved in every decision regarding them and probably some other ones as well.

"You were right to be angry with me for the past few days," Graces murmured. "I was careless and I'm not going to be careless again, Neville, I swear. We'll make decisions regarding us together."

"Good. I hate being cross with you," Neville sighed.

"I hate when you're cross with me," Graces smiled, not moving from where she was nuzzled against his chest.

Neville gently pushed her away after a few moments. "Go meet with Draco," he ordered sorrowfully. "I'll see you tonight."

Graces nodded and moved to leave, but Neville gently pulled her back. "Since we're already breaking rules maybe you could spend the night with me? After our talk," he suggested hopefully.

"Oh?"

"Not like that," Neville said, shaking his head and flushing. "I just—I don't sleep well without you now."

Graces smiled. "I don't sleep well without you either," she said, though she knew Neville was aware of that. "I was planning on convincing you to stay."

Neville let out a small breathy laugh. "Tonight then."

"Tonight then."


	102. Chapter 102

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Pierrs, Hiyadude, TheWanderingViolet, MCUthere, and Josielyn13 for the reviews!!

Neville opened his eyes and for the first time in a long time wasn't overwhelmed with a feeling of dread. Graces was tucked in close to him laying on his chest, both of them still in their school uniform. He didn't remember falling asleep and it was clear from how they were laid on the bed, the sheets still made up, that exhaustion had claimed them before they were ready to sleep themselves. The talk had gone well though. It was long and left them both stripped raw with emotion, but they hadn't fought. At least, not much. Graces had listened and he had listened in turn. It had been hard—incredibly hard—to go through everything that was between them so openly and brazenly, but at the end of it he had this overwhelming sense of relief. They still had an assortment of problems, but all those problems didn't feel like they were a part of his relationship. Those were outside problems: this war, telling their families, her safety, apparently his safety, Graces relationship with Draco, the list goes on and on. But when it came to him and Graces he didn't have the same worries. He gently pulled her closer to him and hoped that this feeling wasn't fleeting, that the talk broke the wall that had prevented them from being functional.

Graces shifted against him and then stilled before looking up at him blurry-eyed and yawning the question of what time it was.

"Early," Neville whispered, taking a look at his watch. "Really early. We have plenty of time to go back to sleep."

"Thank the gods," Graces murmured, her eyes already starting to close as she snuggled closer into his chest.

Neville smiled contentedly. "Hey, why don't we actually go to bed," he suggested. "Get under the covers, dressed to sleep _, take our shoes of_ f," he chuckled softly, kicking his shoes against Graces' shoes. "What would your mother say, Miss Malfoy? Shoes on the bed."

Graces giggled and pushed herself up from where she was lying. "My mother wouldn't say a word. She would stare at me disapprovingly from my doorway until I noticed and quickly amended my mistake."

"Do you get scolded often?" he asked curiously, standing up and unbuttoning his shirt, before taking his shoes off.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... when you're home do you get scolded often? Or are you and Draco perfect children?"

Graces raised an amused brow at the question, before looking down on the side of her skirt to unzip.

"I suppose we got scolded the normal amount. Often as young children, but very little now. Father has very high expectations for behavior, but he left most of the discipline to our mother. She doesn't really scold so much as give you these looks, when she is truly mad though it's far from pleasant."

Neville considered this as Graces walked over to the dressers and began looking through one of the drawers. One hand sifted through her clothes while the other nimbly undid the buttons of her blouse as she considered what she wanted to wear to sleep. He watched as her fingers trailed down, taking in their quick dexterity, how delicate and long her fingers were, nothing like his rough awkward hands. Graces' hands were always soft and even after Herbology her nails never seemed to have any dirt underneath.

"Do you care if I wear one of your shirts?" Graces asked, seeming to not even notice his staring.

Neville shook his head, unable to help himself from smiling at the request. Graces had started doing that often after December. For a while she wore very pretty things to bed, lots of thin silky nightgowns which she loved distracting him in, but when things got harder she wore those less and had seemed to take a liking to his shirts.

"You know you don't have to ask me when you want to wear my shirts," Neville said, climbing into the bed and opening the covers on her side for her to climb in beside him. He laid on his side, his head propped against his hand as he considered something. "In fact if you wanted to steal a few to have in the dorms for bed it's fine with me."

Graces just smiled softly and leaned up to kiss him. Neville leaned more into her, unable to stop himself from deepening this kiss when her bare leg was brushing against his inseam. He could already feel his head clouding and his pulse quickening and he was about to lean away when he felt Graces hands slide up his shirt, the ends of her fingers trailing against his sensitive skin, before she slid one hand down into his boxers.

Neville let out a shudder of a gasp against her lips which seemed to be all the encouragement Graces needed. She gently pulled him so he was more on top of her, her hand continuing on with slow and gentle strokes. It had been so long since she had touched him like this that he was already getting close to the edge. He had half a mind to pin her hand above her head and have her right then and there. But he couldn't get one of their conversations from the night before out of his mind.

"I thought we agreed we wouldn't until it felt right," he breathed, moving away from her.

"It feels right to me," she whispered, her silver eyes looking up at him with the question of if he felt the same.

Neville smiled in answer. "I just want to make sure you want this and you're not doing it to please me like last time."

Graces eyes shifted. "No, it feels right," she said quietly. "Maybe more right than before," she continued on looking up at him and blushing. "I love you, I'm not torn on my feelings or what I want out of this. I know what I want now. I want you and I love you."

"I love you too," Neville said, still in awe that she felt that way regarding him. "You know those two things don't have to coincide. Love and sex."

Graces let out a breathy laugh. "I've really done a number on you havn't I? Jerked you this way and that way regarding us. We're sleeping together, we're not sleeping together. This is casual, I want to figure out what this is, we're together, we're together but I don't talk to you. We—"

"Hey," Neville stopped. "We talked about this. Things were complicated, more complicated than I even was aware. You wanted to figure things out and you needed to really look at your own feelings. That is not jerking me around."

Graces nodded, but still seemed to not take it to heart. "I don't always treat you right, Neville."

"And you apologized profusely for that," Neville reminded, laying back down beside her and holding her close. "And you swore to do better and I swore to open up more. But this Graces is not something I want an apology for because it's not something you should feel bad about."

"I changed my mind a lot," she reminded, her face serene as she laid on the pillow facing him.

Neville shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. Just don't— _try_ —" he amended, "—to not change your mind about loving me."

"I won't change my mind," Graces swore, kissing him tenderly. She lingered near him and kissed him again, parting her lips so he could kiss her fully. "This feels right, Neville," she whispered, her eyes soft and determined.

"Yeah, it does," he agreed, his breath hitching as her lips trailed down his jaw to his neck making him ache for more. She moved closer, her body pressed and fitted against him.

"Neville."

Neville didn't ever think he would get over how his name sounded on her tongue. Her lips curved around it gently as though it were precious. Even when she was cross with him there was a softness to how she said his name. No one said his name the way Graces did, probably because no one felt what she did regarding him. And when she said it like she was saying it now in bed, pleading with desire, it struck him senseless.

She said his name again and the fog in his mind cleared just enough for him to realize she wanted him to do much more than kiss her. He gently ran the flat of his palm up her back so that he was touching bare skin under the shirt she was wearing. She gasped slightly as he moved his hand from her back ever so slowly towards her front, his fingers dancing along the dragon scales he had placed before finding their way to the peaks of her breasts. He savored how she arched her back bringing her hips more into him as he reveled in how she tasted—soft and sweet—and how she responded to every brush of his hand on her skin.

He lifted the shirt just enough for him to run his tongue on the soft pale of skin on her breasts. He grinned against her, gently biting where the skin turned from ivory to coral, before taking the shirt off completely. Her hands were running through his hair as her mouth teased the soft part under his ear, causing his blood to run hot and his fists to ball up into the sheets. "Neville, please," she begged, her body bared to him as she ran her hands down his back.

The thought that this was his life kept echoing in his head: Graces was his, he was hers, and she loved him enough to lose everything to be with him. A few months ago she wouldn't even acknowledge she had feelings for him and they were having quick trysts in closets, barns, and abandoned classrooms and now they were making love in a bed that they had been sharing. She was everything in that moment: pleasure, passion, heat and then so much more. She was Graces. Everything about her, even the difficult parts, made this so much more than just having a tangible woman under him.

She arched up pushing against him, causing him to work longer and faster until the rest of the world faded away and he was just lost in the feel and sound of her. He felt her legs trembling around him and soon after she was coming apart, moaning out her pleasure against his shoulder as he came undone as well.

He fell to the side of her after staring at her flushed face and glistening skin, memorizing the way her hand looked against the pillow as she tried to catch her breath. He found the idea of gods and goddesses ridiculous. He never really felt that there was this higher power looking down on them, but Graces was close, not as an omniscient, absolute being, but as this figure in his life that made him want to do and be better. She was someone that looked out for him, but would allow him to make his mistakes, a wrathful being that could end him should he ever be stupid enough to stray from her. He smiled at the last thought. He would never stray from Graces Malfoy, the thought alone was ridiculous.

"You know one of these days I'm going to be the one to make you beg, Neville Longbottom," Graces said after a while, still not bothering to open her eyes.

"Well, I'm not at all opposed to that," Neville laughed.

"Yeah, you think you're not opposed to it," Graces scoffed, moving closer into him and kissing him chastely. "Just wait til you're the one all hot and bothered."

Neville raised a brow. "You don't think I'm hot and bothered during all that?"

"Are you?"

Neville nodded his head and gave her a look that he was sure told her just how insane he thought she was at that moment.

"So why do you insist on torturing me?" Graces demanded, hitting his chest playfully.

Neville flushed. "I'm not trying to. I, uh, had heard that if you rush foreplay it makes it bad... for the girl."

Graces seemed to take a moment to decipher what he said before giggling. "That is very, very true." She grinned. "But there is no need to be so thorough."

"Well, I—we don't go out on dates. I'm not exactly wooing you beforehand," he pointed out. "I assumed that, well, that I needed to work a bit harder."

"Wooing me? Is that another word you got from your gran? Like deflower?"

"Stop teasing, Malfoy," Neville groaned, playfully shaking her.

Graces laughed and turned off the lights for them to go back to bed. He felt her fingers gently playing with the hairs on his chest and smiled. She hadn't done that in so long, he wondered if this was a sign that things were going to be that much better.

"Neville?" Graces whispered softly.

"Yes?"

"Now would be a good time to thank me."

It took Neville a moment to realize Graces was teasing him again and he answered her jest with an array of tickling that lead to him pinning her beneath him, then kissing her and then not wasting any time with foreplay before they both collapsed in exhaustion.

Neville barely remembered mumbling out "I love you" before sleep overtook him.

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Graces was aware that Neville was watching her. She looked over at him through the mirror as she put in her earring and wondered what it was he wanted to say. She considered asking, but, judging by the anxiety surrounding his demeanor, she decided to let Neville lead in this.

Last night was good, for lack of a better word. Really good. She thought they had a great talk and they definitely had great sex. Twice. She smiled shyly at the thought of it and looked over at Neville again, who caught her smile and asked what she was smiling about.

"Just remembering last night," she answered honestly, looking away.

Neville came up from behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle while he pressed a small kiss against her neck.

"I think we have one more thing to talk about."

Graces raised a brow, but couldn't see Neville's face in the mirror as he was directly behind her and leaning so that his forehead was pressed against the back of her head.

"Okay?" she said, turning around and forcing him to properly look at her.

Neville seemed to be chewing the inside of his mouth as he tried to figure out what exactly he wanted to say. "You are kind of _traditional_ ," he pointed out slowly, causing Graces to shift a bit uncomfortably. Traditional always seemed to be a nice word for prude.

"Is there something wrong with that?" she asked, trying to keep her defenses down, but having to fight to not put them up.

"There isn't," Neville said firmly, his hands cupping her face gently. "But, well, erm, I'm not."

Graces flushed and now wondered if there was something she wasn't doing. "I'm not rigid, or incredibly pious, Neville," she said defensively, with a bit more snap than she intended. "If you want to do something different, or want me to do something, you just have to ask me."

Neville blinked in confusion, before turning beat red.

"No, no, that's not what I am saying. I—well, I want you to know that I can try. Try to be more formal," he clarified, still a bit riddled up over what Graces had said earlier. "Just like with letting McGonagall mediate our talking. I can try."

"Okay," Graces said slowly, wondering what Neville was trying to get at.

Neville looked down at her and gently took her hand. "I want you to know I'm serious about you, about us."

"I know you are," she reassured gently, reaching up and gently touching his face.

"Yes, well, still," Neville shrugged. "I was thinking, after you tell Draco and we're out in the open, I could court you. Formally court you, actually, not just court. Properly. The way you would want to be. I want to show you I'm serious. I want to show others too."

Graces blinked a few times, her mind not quite catching up to what was happening. She looked up at Neville and then shifted her eyes back to her thoughts.

"You want to formally court?" Graces repeated, removing her hand from Neville's and walking out of the bathroom to clear her head a bit. "Not just court, formally court?"

"Er, yeah, yes," Neville amended, apparently deciding that the word yeah was not the appropriate word of affirmation when used in this kind of discussion.

"Formal courting is to decide on marriage," Graces pointed out, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Isn't all courting?" Neville laughed.

"If you thought that you wouldn't be offering to formally court."

"I know that when you formally court a girl you are announcing a relationship more serious than ordinary dating. You're publicly announcing you are dating with the intention of being joined."

"Formal courting means that you have intentions of making an offer of joining."

"Eventually, should things go well and the rituals go well, yes. Not that I don't think things will go well, I know they will go well. I mean—"

"Do you know what those rituals are?" Graces asked.

"Uh, well, no," Neville admitted.

"Do you know that formal courting is usually only two to three years, as that's when all the rituals are completed? So if we did a year to plan the joining it would be four years?"

Graces watched as Neville's mouth dropped slightly. "I did not know that."

"So you're offering this and you didn't look into it," Graces murmured, disappointment seeping out of her despite herself.

Neville swallowed. "I don't need to. I love you, I have those intentions. You want this, and I plan to do it. I will learn all I need about it." He paused. "Do you want this? I assumed you would, but—" Neville trailed off.

Graces bit her lip before she let out a small breathy laugh. "I do. I just—I don't think you understand it enough to offer me it."

Neville took a step towards her and she could hardly breath with the intensity behind his eyes. "I love you, and I know what your brother is going to expect."

"You don't have to do this because Draco would expect it. You—"

"Graces," Neville hushed, moving into her and gently cupping her face in his palms. "I want to formally court you. I will look into this more. But I want this, and yes Draco factored into my decision for it to be formal, but I want this. And considering the risks you are taking to be with me you should not have anything less. I want this, Graces. Do you?"

Graces pursed her lips and tried to hide her glee. "When?"

"When what?"

"When do you plan to make the offer?"

The sandy-haired boy's eyes widened considerably. "This will be a long courtship, Graces," Neville stipulated, already realizing that she was going to live up to her Malfoy name of being demanding and impatient for what she wanted.

"How long?"

Neville ran his hand through his hair. "Ten years," Neville shrugged.

"Ten years!" Graces exclaimed. "Ten years!"

"We would be 26, I think that's—"

"People don't formally court for ten years, Neville," Graces stated crossly, moving out of his arms. "If you want to wait ten years then we shouldn't formally court at all. I'll look like a fool."

"Right," Neville nodded, his shoulders tense. "You said the rituals finish in three years, would it be odd for us to do those rituals in four years and have an additional year and a half to plan the joining?"

"We could do four years of the courting and one year to plan the joining. I refuse to be engaged for longer than a year when the courting took so long."

"Okay," Neville whispered, nodding his head. Graces smiled as she listened to him count five years from when they were seventeen, clearly considering what that time frame meant. She also made a mental note that he seemed to be planning to begin formally courting her this summer if he was counting from when they were 17. "We'd be twenty-two. Young, but not insanely so."

"You're not just asking this in the heat of the moment right? This has nothing to do with our night, right?" Graces asked, her silver eyes seeming to pierce through him as though she could see the answer through his skin.

"No, I'm not," Neville swore solemnly. "I've thought about this for a while. I-I fantasized about being able to do this since, Merlin, since the start really. I always wanted to court you properly. And I've wanted to formally court I think since December. It was all just a cauldron dream then," Neville laughed. "I didn't think we ever actually would be able to."

Graces beamed at those words. She felt like she was waking up on Christmas morning, her chest felt light and airy and she had to stop herself from jumping up and down and throwing her arms around Neville. "So I'm it?" she asked tentatively, wanting so badly to hear the confirmation despite everything Neville had already said.

Neville scowled.

"Graces, you're everything."

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Neville checked his watch to make sure he wasn't running late for dinner with McGonagall and Graces as he turned down the hall. He was running a bit later than he would have liked—well, than Graces would have liked—but he had a feeling she wouldn't be too miffed considering he was running late due to waiting for this bouquet of daffodils to arrive. He looked at the arrangement again and smiled. Daffodils were a symbol of new beginnings and he honestly believed that this was a new beginning with Graces. He doubted she would understand the meaning behind the flowers, but he was happy at the thought that she would like them all the same.

"Are those for me?"

Neville jumped and Graces practically skipped over to him from where she seemed to have been waiting in the corridor.

"Were you waiting for me?"

Graces shrugged. "I like talking to you alone."

Neville hummed a reply, but didn't give her the flowers. "You can have these when we're not in such a public area," he stipulated, placing the flowers into his cloak.

Graces wrinkled her nose at him, but didn't argue. She did however fall into step with him, clearly deciding that they would walk together to dinner.

"Did you get the packages I sent you?"

"Oh you mean the TWENTY-FOUR books on pureblood history, traditions, etiquette, courting and joining rituals?"

Graces bit her lip, but didn't seem at all abashed by how ridiculous that had been. "You want to formally court, I think that it would be wise for you to read up on it."

"We are not formally courting until summer, Graces," Neville reminded.

"Summer isn't that far away, Longbottom. You need to take this seriously and be prepared."

Neville shook his head. "I am; I will."

"I will be really upset if I have to guide you through all this. You offered it; you should know."

"I will read up as much as I can, but I don't think this needs to be all-consuming," Neville promised. "I would like this to be a very small part of our relationship, I don't want things changing or us becoming so formal. We will do the rituals and whatever has to be done, but I am not going to become like, well, you know."

Graces stopped her walking and frowned. "I don't know."

Neville sighed and tried to think of how to say this without offending Graces. "I'm not going to be like the purebloods in your circle. I don't want to be formal, or act a certain way because it's expected. This is me. I will learn and we will formally court, but even with that I need some wiggle room to be myself. And I don't want us becoming like that. I like us, playful and us. _Teenagers._ "

Graces seemed to be considering this. Neville watched as her gray eyes seemed to be far away as she thought about what all that meant, before looking up at him and smiling. "I agree. I don't think I would like you as much if you acted like Graham or any of the other boys in Slytherin."

"Ah, so you like the Gryffindor boys?" Neville teased, bumping into her playfully.

"I like _you_ ," Graces stipulated. "You are the expectation."

"Just admit it, Malfoy, you have a thing for Gryffindor boys."

"I have a thing for one Gryffindor boy," Graces maintained. "I haven't dated, or had interest in any others."

Neville thought to reply, but then stopped himself. "Yeah, let's keep it that way."

Graces bit her lip and he could tell before she even opened her mouth that she was going to tease him more. "I could still look around, you know. Until we are formally courting I am free to accept other dates. Others are free to ask me on dates as well."

Neville hummed a reply. "Too bad that in a broom closet at The Three Broomsticks you agreed to an exclusive relationship."

"It wasn't a formal agreement," Graces shrugged.

Neville shook his head. "Prat."

Graces just smiled at the title.

"So, er, there's quite a few outfits needed for each ritual in the courting. Do you think you could convince your godmother to make my dresses?" she asked, giving him a hopeful glance. "Ones designed only for me."

"I think I can arrange that," Neville nodded, smiling ear to ear.

"She may refuse. She hates Malfoys."

"I will talk to her," Neville promised, still smiling at the thought of Graces in pretty robes to court with him. He wondered how exactly those robes would look. He imagined no matter the design she would look overwhelmingly beautiful.

"I realize her clothes are very expensive," Graces continued, her right hand playing with his mother's ring. "I, er, was thinking I could take money out of my vault now, that way if I get disowned it won't be an issue. I was—"

"I don't think you need to worry yourself regarding any of that now," Neville said gently.

"Maybe Draco will accept us," she whispered, not seeming to take his words to heart, playing with her ring as her eyes turned downcast. "Then money won't be an issue at all. Not with my dowry and my vaults."

Neville let out a slow breath and was thinking about having the discussion of financials with Graces now, not wanting to really accept any dowry, but Graces continued on.

"You would do the three months of separation, right? To get to know Draco? So he can get to know you? Maybe even my mum," she added wishfully.

"Yes," Neville nodded. "Absolutely."

"Neville," Graces murmured, her voice so heavy he stopped. "Draco will be difficult. Really difficult."

"Okay."

"You will have to be patient and better than he is being to you, regardless of what he says or does."

"I can do that," Neville promised.

"I need you to love Draco," Graces whispered, her face all serious. "Even if—even if he doesn't accept us. Even if all the wrongs he's done against you are never made right. I need you to just forgive him and love him."

He moved a piece of her hair behind her ear and for the first time missed it when it was long. He used to love playing with it absently when it laid against her back. He took a moment to think about what kind of love Graces would expect him to hold for Draco and then thought of everything Draco was doing for her. He remembered their fight in October, their conversation after he hit Harry, there was so much history between the two of them and then this one link that brought them together. He looked at Graces and kissed her forehead.

"It's done," he swore.

"I know I've asked similar things of this before regarding Draco and—"

"Graces, you ask me as many times as you need to ask me."

Graces nodded and wiped away a small tear.

"How are things with you two?"

Graces swallowed. "I can't seem to make things better between us. Conversation is difficult to say the least." She sniffed. "It's like we have this barrier between us and there's no getting past it." Neville pulled her close to him as her shoulders sagged. "I guess that's not true," she said tightly. "I know what the barrier is. I need to tell him."

"You do."

"I'm not ready, Neville."

"I know, that's okay," he promised, leaning down so his head rested on hers.

Graces was silent for a long while. "You need family to formally court."

Neville closed his eyes. He did not know that, but it made sense considering how involved they are supposed to be in the courting process. He thought of the pages of the books he skimmed and there was usually some aspect of family in it. He wondered idly if Graces was so excited for the idea of them formally courting for the openness, but also for the hope that her brother would be involved.

"I want to do whatever you want to do," Neville reminded. "If you want to formally court we should formally court. If you want to just date, we can just date. If you want to court, but not formally, we can do that."

"And if I want to elope immediately?" Graces asked, her voice teasing.

"Er, we will have a very very long discussion on that," Neville said nervously. "I will not be as for that. I am not ready for that."

"I want to formally court," Graces said, looking up at him and putting his worry on the matter to rest. "There's nothing grand in eloping and I really want the pretty dresses and all the different traditions and rituals. But, I don't know if I want to without Draco. I feel like it would be—I don't know. It would hurt to have the absence of my family. Each ritual would be a reminder that I was alone."

"You are not alone, Graces," Neville reminded. "But I really don't think this will be an issue. I believe wholeheartedly that Draco will accept us. I don't think he will like me, but I am confident he will not disown you. He will accept us because he won't lose you."

Graces nodded unsurly. "Come on," she sighed, "We're late to dinner."

Neville walked beside her and left her alone with her thoughts. When they entered McGonagall's chambers, not bothering to knock, he handed her the daffodils. He watched as she smiled softly at them, gently brushing the yellow petals with the tips of her fingers.

"Narcissus," she murmured, looking up at him. Neville only then realized that of course Graces would see them and immediately think of their Latin name and thus her mother.

"Or daffodils," he corrected shyly.

"Same thing," Graces laughed.

"All daffodils are members of the genus Narcissus, but people don't tend to associate them with their genus. I thought you would see them and think of daffodils, which is the common garden term."

Graces was smiling at him in that way that told him she found whatever he was doing to be very cute. "Well, I'm not very well versed in flowers, Professor. So do tell, what do daffodils mean? Clearly there is meaning in these if you care so much about how I perceive them."

Neville flushed and now felt very silly.

"New beginnings," McGonagall broke in, gesturing for both of them to take a seat to eat. "Daffodils typically mean new beginnings."

Neville didn't know why he was so embarrassed for McGonagall to know about his meaning in the flowers, but he was. He avoided her all-too-knowing eyes as he took his seat. He felt exposed with her there, silly even when he did things romantic. Though watching Graces place the flowers tenderly down by her plate made it worth it. She glanced up at him coyly, before focusing her attention on McGonagall.

"Would you like a vase, Graces?" McGonagall asked, passing her a plate of chicken, potatoes, corn and peas.

"No, I actually enjoy pressing the flowers in books. If a character dies or if it's a part I particularly enjoyed I press a flower in that section."

"I didn't know that," Neville said, shocked that he hadn't noticed such rituals.

"Well, I haven't really been reading much lately," Graces pointed out, moving some peas around with her fork.

"What was the last book you read?" McGonagall asked curiously.

Graces flushed slightly. "Hamlet."

"Hamlet," the older woman repeated, her brows high above her spectacles.

"Graces likes Shakespeare," Neville said, aiding in the conversation since Graces was so uncomfortable. "She's read Hamlet before, but she read it again with me."

"What other things of his have you read?" the older woman asked.

"Erm, Taming of the Shrew, Neville read that one for me as well, sonnets, A Midsummers Night's Dream, Macbeth, and erm," Graces chewed the inside of her lip as she tried to remember more.

"Romeo and Juliet?"

"Don't get her started on Romeo and Juliet," Neville said shaking his head. "She hates them. Frankly I think she's happy they died in the end."

"I wasn't _rooting_ for them to die, Neville," Graces scoffed. "I just wasn't sad that they did."

"You didn't want the couple separated by family hate to end up together and live happily ever after?" McGonagall said flatly.

Graces blinked and her mouth popped open slightly. "Neville and I are not Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh Merlin," Neville cursed under his breath.

"We're not!" Graces snapped, glaring over at him.

"I didn't say we were," Neville nodded.

"Romeo just wanted to get laid. He literally went from trying to get into one girl's knickers before she became a nun to trying to get into Juliet's knickers. Neville here wasn't trying to get into anyones knickers."

"That may be," McGonagall placated. "But—"

'I'm just going to sink into this chair and pray I disappear," Neville muttered.

"—don't you think there is something to relate to in that these were two people who wanted to be together and the only thing separating them from one another was their families' feud?"

"They just wanted to have sex," Graces snorted. "They never even spoke to each other! Neville and I wanting to be together is based on us, not just shagging. We didn't run off and get secretly married so that we could sleep together."

Neville groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"We also did not declare undying love for one another after a few nights! Neville didn't tell me he loved me for months. _And,_ Neville did not kill my cousin."

"I think it could still be argued that blood has been spilled between your families," McGonagall pointed out.

"We're not the same," Graces said stubbornly. "Neville, tell her we're not the same."

"We're not the same," Neville repeated, in a "yes, dear" sort of way.

"Neville! With some enthusiasm." Neville sighed and looked wordlessly over at Graces. "You think we're the same?" Graces asked deflated.

"I think there are some similarities," Neville said delicately. "Just because there are similarities doesn't mean we're going to be a tragedy, Graces. I'm not going to stab myself in the gut over you."

Graces looked away, but didn't say anything more on the matter. Neville frowned slightly at the silence and then cursed himself silently as he realized Graces had in fact stabbed herself in the gut over him.

"I—I didn't—" Neville sighed, at a loss for words.

"Graces," McGonagall murmured gently, drawing the blonde's attention away from her potato pea mountain. "I know that you and Neville truly love one another. Just because I said you two were similar, doesn't mean that I think you the same. And I would not allow you two to end up with a fate like them. We will figure things out."

Graces nodded and licked her bottom lip. "Did Dumbledore say anything more about what his plan was? I mean after I tell Draco? Did he say anything at all about what he will do for us?"

McGonagall gave a tight smile and she shook her head. "I will make sure that you both are safe," she swore.

Graces eyes shifted slightly. "Is there a plan? There is something of a plan, correct?"

"There are things the Headmaster and I are talking about. We each have ideas on what we think should be the next step once you talk with Draco."

"Such as?" Graces prodded.

Neville too was curious what these next steps were. He understood the focus now being on making Graces well and on her telling Draco, but he also understood Graces would want to tell Draco that he had another choice as well. Another path.

"Well, I've decided that should Draco not accept your relationship with Neville and should you be disowned that I will take you as my ward.

Neville and Graces eyes both widened at this.

"Your ward?" the both repeated.

"Yes."

Graces looked over at Neville from across the table at a loss for words.

"Is that a problem?" McGonagall asked, slowly looking between them.

"We just, er,well—" Neville stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "We had planned for Graces to be with me."

McGonagall seemed to be holding back an initial reaction which left Neville and Graces sitting uncomfortably in the silence of her self control.

"I do not think that you and Graces living together would be appropriate for many reasons," she said sternly. "A main reason being that you both are underage. Another reason being I doubt Augusta would agree to this."

"Well, we wouldn't be living with my gran." Neville flushed.

"We both come of age in the summer too, so we won't be underage," Graces added.

"Coming of age does not make you grown," McGonagall said flatly. "Frankly I see no difference between two sixteen year olds playing house and two seventeen year olds. No, Graces, you will live with me."

"I will be seventeen in June," Graces reminded her.

"The fact you think turning seventeen means such a great deal shows how very, very young you are. Do you think the seventh years at this school are living on their own? That they are equipped for a life with no parents tending to them?"

"I can't be your ward," Graces breathed. "I can't be Minerva McGonagall's ward. I'm a Malfoy and a Slytherin," Graces stressed.

"Well, Slytherin you may be, but you will be staying in the Gryffindor tower."

"I will what!?"

"Graces, I think we both can agree it would be difficult for you to stay in the Slytherin dungeons."

"I would rather die."

"Graces," Neville reprimanded.

"I would," Graces maintained.

"It could be nice," Neville pointed out. "We could see each other all the time. We could relax in the common room and—"

"Neville, I love you, but you need to not talk anymore."

"Come on, it wouldn't be bad at all and you would be safe."

Graces narrowed her eyes. "Oh, yes, because living in the same tower as Harry Potter is completely safe. Nothing terrible could possibly happen there and I will completely be out of the social line of fire sharing a dorm with Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil."

"Graces," McGonagall began patiently. "Sleeping in the Gryffindor dorms does not make you any less of who you are, but it can offer you better comfort."

"I don't want comfort; I'll endure."

For the rest of dinner Neville and McGonagall tried to convince Graces that staying in the Gryffindor tower would be better than staying in her own house dormitory, but Graces seemed to just find the whole idea to be ridiculous. Even when McGonagall insisted it would only be sleeping that any points she earned or lost would still go to Slytherin. Towards the end she just shook her head and wouldn't even dignify the points they were making with a response. She did however finish her plate of food and even ate dessert when McGonagall brought out a tart.

As they were leaving McGonagall's chambers she gently took his arm in hers, resting her head against his arm and cloak as she walked beside him. Neville wasn't sure if this habit of hers should be maintained. She seemed to use this hall as a way for them to be alone. After dinner she talked to him in it, held his hand, kissed him. The hall was secluded, but only because it was where McGonagall's chambers were, but what if another student went looking for her? Or another professor? He battled these thoughts as he allowed her to hold him.

"People are going to judge us once we're public," she murmured after a moment.

Neville frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Once people know about us," she clarified. "People are going to talk about us, everyone is going to have an opinion."

Neville shrugged. "Let them talk."

"There will be more than just ordinary gossip, Neville," Graces persisted. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if we ended up in the papers with some horrible tabloid piece about us from Rita Skeeter that I guarantee the whole school will read."

"Let them read."

Graces snuggled closer and tightened her arm around his. "People are not going to want you with me," she whispered tightly, he looked down at her, but the blonde was purposely avoiding his gaze. "They're going to point out my temperament, and also that you shouldn't be with a Malfoy, with a girl from a family that—"

"I don't give a damn what people who don't know me think is best for me," Neville snorted. "Even my friends don't know me well enough to know what I need or want in a relationship."

A heavy silence fell around them and Neville could tell by how Graces was clutching him and walking slower she had something else to say. "Your family may say things too, Neville."

"Yeah," he nodded. "They may very well, but I really don't care what they say."

"Are you going to feel that way when your gran sends you a howler?"

"If my gran sends me a howler and says one thing about you I will send her one back."

Graces giggled. "No you wouldn't."

"I would."

"You're not really the yelling type, Neville," Graces laughed airily.

"Yeah, well, I'm also not the type to punch Harry Potter," he pointed out. "I make exceptions for you."

"I guess you're also not the illicit affairs type either, another exception you've made for me," she smiled.

"Oh, I was always that type," Neville said seriously, turning her so she was looking up at him. "It's the quiet ones, you gotta watch out for those quiet blokes. It was always part of my plan to be sneaking around the castle with you. I have a thing for bad girls."

"Am I a bad girl?" Graces asked, raising her brow.

"You stabbed me," Neville reminded her flatly. "I'd hardly call you angelic."

Graces bit her lip to hide her smile. Neville really could be charming, she wondered if any other girl had ever experienced Neville Longbottom's charm. If anyone ever would. He wanted to formally court, so that would make this side of him hers forever. He gently tilted her chin up and she really did swoon when his lips brushed against hers.

"I'll be sure to read a few chapters of one of those books tonight," he promised, his lips still close enough to hers that she could easily kiss him again. "Good night, Malfoy."

"Good night, Longbottom," she grinned.

She was only a few steps before Neville called out to her again.

"Did you mean what you said earlier this morning?"

Graces laughed. "You're going to have to be more specific than that."

"About if I wanted something I would just have to ask."

She shrugged playfully. "Is there something you want, Mr Longbottom?"

"I want lots of things," Neville smirked. She suddenly saw exactly what Harry meant when he had informed her Neville had started to smirk like her.

"Anything specific?" Graces asked innocently, walking back to him and trailing her fingers up his chest until her hands rested on his shoulders.

Neville bowed his head in the other direction from hers and she giggled as he seemed to turn five different shades of red. "Nope, nope this is probably the end of me trying to be—I don't know," he laughed, covering his face and then rubbing his fingers through his hair. Graces laughed with him and loved him all the more. "You're much better at this than I am," Neville chuckled. "I try and then you just unravel me. If you didn't come over I probably could have pulled it off."

"Trust me, Neville, you unravel me plenty," she whispered. "I'm unraveling now," she admitted.

Neville seemed pleased with this answer. He had a pleasantly surprised expression to him with a small bit of pride mixed in.

"And I did mean what I said this morning," she added, not able to bring herself to look up at him. Neville hummed a reply and held her closer.

"This is the worst part of my day," he admitted softly. "I know I should let you go when we say goodbye, not have these moments with you, but as soon as we say our goodbyes I get the same sick feeling in my stomach as I got my first year away from home."

"You feel homesick when I'm away?"

"Yeah, I do," he admitted quietly. "More reason for you to consider being in Gryffindor. Think of the heartache you could save me every night."

Graces hid her grin against Neville's chest. Of all the arguments to make her switch dorms, this was the one that actually made her want to. She kissed Neville softly and whispered a goodnight. She left practically walking on air. Everything seemed possible in that moment and she couldn't stop smiling all the way to the dungeons. It was ridiculous and right all at once. She knew she had to still her heart before seeing Draco or there would be no doubt in his head she was in love and from there he could figure out with who very quickly. But for now she smiled, she smiled until she entered the Slytherin common room and found Thomas waiting for her eyes red from hours of past fallen tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right guys if you are here you are now all up to date!!!! I am currently working on chapter 103, but if you follow me on FFNET it can take a bit for me to update. I have a two year old son who is very demanding of my time and attention. haha So subscribe bookmark etc. :D


	103. Chapter 103

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Denarii for editing all 38 pages of this beast! And to Lriusech, DARTH_PIERRS, Josielyn13, and Sam for the reviews!!!

Chapter 103

Graces swallowed and let out a slow breath. In truth she probably shouldn’t be here. She was teetering on the edge of her breaking point, but then again there always seemed to be something pressing her sanity. She focused on her breathing and the small bowl of porridge she had in front of her. She had promised McGonagall at least a bowl of porridge every morning, or some sort of pastry and tea. So with this promise in mind she mechanically ate and tried to not show the panic that was tearing her apart. 

She felt as though there were an imaginary wand pointed at her back and the Dark Lord was right behind her wielding it. This wand, this threat of death, had been there for months and she had not a clue. She took another bite of her porridge and imagined the wand was closer to her. She had a wand pointed at her heart— she had been aware of that one, of the risk she took being with Neville, but she had no idea of the threat behind her. 

Thomas’ revelations the night before had felt like a surprise assault. She had listened motionless as he told her of his aunt and the muggle. For months a muggle had been living in Higgs manor, helping in raising Octavian. Alethea’s relationship with this man, this muggle, had never ended. Well, it had for a few short weeks as he had come to adjust to the reality that the woman he had loved for decades had been hiding such secrets from him. But then he had forgiven her. 

Not just forgiven her, but stood by her, adjusted his life to help her raise Octavian. Thomas hadn’t told her or Draco at first, thinking he could handle the situation himself, but from the details that Graces was told, Alethea and this muggle didn’t respect his authority as patriarch. Both felt this title of power was meaningless.

Alethea had lived too long in the muggle world, Graces was realizing. She didn’t have the same respect for their customs and traditions… their magic. She treated Thomas as a child, as did this muggle. And now after months of this they were taking it another step further. The muggle wanted Alethea, Thomas, and Octavian to come live in the muggle world. He wanted to marry Alethea and adopt both boys. A makeshift family to make up for what they had been denied previously. 

Graces didn’t know what to do. She ran her fingers through her hair and tried to map out all the options that she had. If it was found out that a muggle was staying at Higgs’ Manor, they were dead. All of them. Her, Thomas, Octavian, Alethea, the muggle, even Draco. She and Draco had taken ownership of what was left of the Higgs clan. This would be seen not just as weakness on their part, but the perfect opportunity to attack. It wouldn’t even matter that the Statute of Secrecy had been broken because they would die before the Ministry could care.

“G-Graces?” Thomas said quietly. 

Graces looked over wearily.

“He r-really is n-nice. He—”

“Thomas,” Graces said warily. “Now isn’t the time to talk about this.”

Thomas nodded and went back to his breakfast. Graces watched as he silently fought with his own emotions. He had begged her last night not to harm the muggle and Graces realized that his not telling her earlier was due to his fear of harm coming to him. She had made no promises. How could she promise him no harm would come when she didn’t know it to be true? She knew what her father would do, what her mother would do, but she had no idea what she should do.

She didn’t know this man. The only thing she did know was that his presence, his ridiculous idea of moving what was left of the Higgs clan to the muggle world and being a family there would be their doom. Graces cursed Alethea for being so brilliantly stupid to allow all this. Her whole family had been savagely murdered and she really believed that continuing on with this muggle was going to be acceptable? And from what Graces had gathered from Thomas the muggle had not been properly told how great a threat to them there was.

Draco took his seat next to her and Graces watched as Thomas tensed, looking between her and Draco, clearly wondering if she was going to tell Draco about what was going on. She should. She knew that she should, but she also knew what action Draco would take. The muggle would be killed, not because Draco wanted it, but because he wasn’t willing to risk all of their safety for one person. Then again, did Draco have it in him to kill someone? Did she?

She made herself swallow another bite of porridge. The only thing she did know was that she needed to talk with Neville. She couldn’t make a decision on this without talking to him. Graces took another breath and made sure to regulate it so it was normal. The muggle would be fine, because she knew Neville would not discuss a plan in which he wouldn’t be. So she supposed she could promise Thomas no harm would come. Well, no intentional harm.

“Are you okay?”

Graces blinked and looked up at Draco staring down at her in concern. “Yes, of course, why?”

Draco’s eyes looked over to her hand gripping onto the spoon, but didn’t voice his concerns aloud.

Graces flushed, cleared her throat and deliberately loosened her hold. “I have Granger as a partner in Herbology now. It kind of puts me on edge. She isn’t exactly pleasant to work with.”

Draco didn’t buy the lie, she could tell, but he also didn’t dig further into finding the truth. She supposed he realized now that he wouldn’t get it from her. She closed her eyes and wondered if she was losing his love. At what point was it going to be too late for them? She felt like she had drifted away from Draco, went on with her life far away from him and never bothered to write. At what point would the silence and distance change things irreversibly?

Wand to her front, wand to her back, and a sinkhole threatening to swallow her up into darkness. She stood up and left the Great Hall, unable to bear being part of her own act any longer. She wanted to be unafraid, sure, something other than what she was. She wanted to be with Neville, she loved him, and she was willing to fight that battle that would come with them being together. But she was scared to fight that fight without Draco in her corner. He still was a part of her. Even though they had grown apart this year he was still her other half. 

And yet, she was too scared to tell him about Thomas’ situation. Where before she and Draco would decide, now she wanted it to be her and Neville. She leaned against the castle and held the back of her neck. Everything was shifting around her. It felt like there were a million different choices and paths and she didn’t know where any of them would end. She was just moving without real thought to where. 

_ That’s not true. I am thinking. I am planning. _

She just wasn’t doing it well. She just needed things to slow down enough for her to figure things out. Things were going to start turning around and then she found out about Thomas’ situation. Now it felt as though things were speeding up again. She just needed it all to slow down, to just stop for a moment so she could adjust. She held a deep breath, trying to stretch out her diaphragm that suddenly felt too small. 

_ Nothing has to be done now.  _ She willed herself to not panic, to let this go until she could talk to Neville. She took another breath through her nose, reminding herself that she was breathing, she was getting air. This was all okay, she didn’t need to feel overwhelmed yet. The situation was urgent, but the muggle and his aunt hadn’t done anything yet. She had time. She left the castle to find Neville. She was sure he went to Herbology early, so she would have an opportunity to ask him to meet her somewhere for lunch. 

Lunch would be perfect. They could decide on a plan and then at dinner she could talk with McGonagall, but talk with her with an idea of what they wanted to do. She entered the greenhouse expecting to find Neville alone, but it appeared Hannah had come early as well. Graces swallowed her disappointment and took her seat. She would have to figure out another way to ask him to meet for lunch. 

She kept glancing up at Hannah and Neville. They were talking quietly. Neville seemed to be sketching something out in explanation, probably something to do with how the implantation of the willow branch could be tricky depending on how it decided to grow, but Hannah wasn’t really looking at Neville’s sketch. Her eyes kept glancing up to Neville’s face and Graces could tell what she was thinking, it was the same things she thought when Neville was patiently teaching her something.

She ran her fingers through her hair and made herself look down at her Herbology book. She had no reason to feel this way. Neville loved her; he wanted to formally court even. She didn’t need to feel any type of jealousy over their interaction now, because it didn’t mean anything. Neville didn’t feel anything when she touched his arm, or laughed at his jokes. He didn’t notice if her hair was down and not in pigtails. None of that mattered to him because Hannah wasn’t her. And Neville only had eyes for her.

Still, something cut seeing Hannah with Neville. She could never do what Hannah was doing now, not without consequence. She couldn’t go up and obviously flirt with Neville, couldn’t touch his arm with such casualness. Nothing she felt for Neville could be shown. Neville denied that it bothered him, but Graces didn’t believe for one second that he wasn’t disappointed in it all. Even once people knew about them there still wouldn’t be such an ease to what they had. 

Hannah would have been accepted with open arms by his friends and family. Neville wouldn’t have to defend his feelings for her. In fact his feelings for her would have probably been much more healthy compared to his feelings in their relationship. It would all just be simple. The happy moments they would have together wouldn’t be few and far between. They would be constant. She and Neville had passion, plenty of passionate love to get them through those bad days, but was that stronger than quiet love? Would he have preferred a constant, quiet love that grew through the years? Happy moments after happy moments creating a stronger bond— whereas for the two of them it was what they went through and endured together that made their bond stronger. Did Neville even understand what happiness could be? Had he ever been truly blissfully happy, or had he just had some small semblance with her and clutched onto it, not realizing he could have had other chances to be happier? Could a person who had lived with just tragedies and hardships in their lives really know how to compare what choice would make them happier?

She then wondered how much tragedy one person could take in their life. Neville had a series of tragedies in his sixteen years, was she going to be another tragedy for him to live through? Were they a tragedy in themselves— doomed for an ending much like Romeo and Juliet? Would death keep them apart in the end? She thought of all they would have to live through to be together and a happy love story seemed impossible. Would Neville realize this perhaps and leave. Protect himself from an ending he couldn’t endure? 

Graces shook her head and pushed away those thoughts. Neville loved her. He had gone on a date with Hannah and he had wanted her in the end. Hannah kissed him and it wasn’t anything compared to their kiss. She knew that just watching them kiss. When Neville kissed her it had sparked something in them. She would not sit here and wonder if she was enough for Neville and discount everything they had because she was insecure and dreading telling him bad news. What they had was hard, but it was real. Still, she could definitely continue to dislike Hannah, especially when she was finding any excuse possible to touch her boyfriend.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Sprout said quietly, taking Hermione’s seat next to her.

“I know,” Graces nodded, shifting in her seat, uncomfortable with the proximity.

“You don’t look like you know,” Sprout pointed out. “It must be hard, not being able to be together in front of people.”

Graces didn’t answer, there was a pit in her stomach and it just seemed to be growing by each second. 

“I—I need to talk to Neville,” she admitted quietly, near tears despite herself. “It’s important and I wanted to see if we could sneak away at lunch or something, but I can’t ask in front of Abbott. And she’s not going to leave his side during class, or after. She walks with him to his next class. They take Muggle Studies together.”

“Is everything all right?” Sprout asked in concern. 

Graces wasn’t sure how to answer that question. She didn’t really want to tell Sprout any details. She was going to tell McGonagall of course, but she didn’t want to tell Sprout. And she didn’t want to tell anyone before Neville.

“Not really,” she whispered. “I wanted to talk to Neville, see what he thinks I should do about something and then at dinner I will tell McGonagall, but I just—I don’t know—wanted to talk with him first.”

The class started trickling in and Graces looked around as the seats near her and Sprout were becoming less empty. A few students looked over at Sprout sitting with her and she flushed at the attention, unsure of what they must be thinking.

“Thank you again, Miss Malfoy,” Sprout said standing. “You’re sure you don’t mind giving up your lunch hour to help me?”

Graces blinked. “No. No,” she said more clearly. “Not at all.”

“Wonderful,” the older woman smiled, walking towards the front where Neville and Hannah were at and then tapping Neville on the shoulder. Graces watched as Sprout asked Neville if he wouldn’t mind helping her at lunch with a little project. Neville nodded in agreement and Graces did smile as one concern was lifted from her. Sprout gave her a little wink before sitting down and Graces shook her head. Maybe Sprout knowing wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Hermione sat beside her soon after and their silent dislike blanketed over them. Being partners with Hermione had proved to be exceptionally awful. In the back of her mind, Graces knew that she could make things more pleasant, apologize for the things she had said in the past. But she never could bring herself to do so. Hermione, even if she took away her beliefs on muggleborns, was still nosy, bossy, condescending at times and a know-it-all. Hermione also acted as though being her partner was such an inconvenience, which rubbed Graces the wrong way when in fact she was definitely pulling her own weight. Hermione just wanted it to not be true. Everything she wrote for an assignment was corrected by the Gryffindor and any time she hesitated during a practical portion the mudblo— _ GIRL— _ would let out a sound of impatience and then just push her aside to do it herself. 

This was all not counting the greatest trespass against her. Hermione spied on her. Spied on her very private date and spied on her having sex. Graces flushed at the thought of someone seeing her like that. Hermione didn’t know that she knew and for some reason Neville wanted her to not speak a word of it to Hermione. Graces had an idea of why, Neville didn’t want her to know where they were in their relationship now. He had no desire to repair their friendship. 

“If you give me your paragraphs for the assignment I’ll put it together tonight,” Hermione said coolly, after Sprout reminded them that their papers were due for the practical uses of whatever project they had chosen. Hermione and Hannah had chosen Fern Flowers, a key ingredient in liquid luck.

Graces nodded and sifted through her satchel to hand Hermione what she had written for her part. She had gone to a great amount of work looking at the folklore that had surrounded the flower and how that had aided the witch who created the potion to begin with. Hermione read over her paragraphs, but said nothing.

“Are you going to show me what you have written?” Graces asked flatly.

Hermione looked up at her for a moment before pressing her lips together and handing over what she had written. Graces read about the measures taken to plant the flower, but before she could finish going over everything Hannah Abbott was standing before her.

“Neville sent me to get his notes regarding the willow. He said you had his from when you two were partners.”

“I do,” Graces nodded, picking her satchel up. She saw Neville’s notes and the ones she had transcribed and decided to give Hannah hers.

Hannah looked at the notes she held out disdainfully. 

“Neville wants _ his _ notes. Not yours,” Hannah emphasized, tossing the notes back.

“Have you seen Neville’s handwriting?” Graces asked flatly. “It’s atrocious, I always transcribed them. He sometimes couldn’t read what he had written and would sit there staring at his own scribbles for five minutes trying to decipher them. I’m doing you a favor, Abbott.”

“I’ve seen Neville’s handwriting and there’s nothing wrong with it,” Hannah defended, bringing herself up taller as she spoke. “So I’ll be taking Neville’s notes.”

Graces blinked. “I don’t have them.”

“You’re lying,” Hannah accused. 

Graces shrugged. “Prove it.”

Hannah pursed her lips, but refused to move her eyes away from Graces’. “I know you have them,” Hannah insisted. “I know.”

“How do you know?” Graces asked, raising a skeptical brow. “Are you a seer?”

Hannah opened her mouth to say something, probably something redundant, but Neville came up beside her.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, looking at Graces and then Hannah. 

“Malfoy won’t give me your notes,” Hannah explained. “She says she doesn’t have them.”

Neville frowned slightly, but just looked over to Graces. Waiting patiently for her to explain.

“I offered Abbott mine, which really is the better deal,” Graces pointed out. “Considering how poor your handwriting is. If anything I am the hero in this story, no one should have to suffer through trying to read your handwriting.”

Neville smiled slightly at her teasing, but Hannah turned as red as a beet. 

“You are always so unbelievably nasty. If you have an opportunity to cut him down you are quick to do so. You—”

“Hannah,” Neville interrupted. “She’s just teasing. My notes are unreadable. Malfoy always transcribed them. Her handwriting is much more legible and prettier.”

“I don’t want Malfoy’s notes, I want yours,” Hannah insisted. 

Neville frowned slightly and Graces could already see where this was going. Neville was being friendly and kind now, but if he felt Hannah was purposefully being mean to her he would draw a line in the sand between them. Even with their relationship having to be a secret he was not going to allow her any abuse.

“My gods,” Graces chuckled darkly. “You know, Abbott, you defending Neville’s atrocious handwriting isn’t going to change his mind regarding you.”

Hannah flushed and glanced nervously at Neville. “I-I’m not trying to—”

“Sure you’re not,” Graces smirked. “Take my notes and let this be done.”

“I don’t want anything of yours,” Hannah said spitefully, her cheeks still pink with humiliation.

“That’s too bad,” Graces said coolly. “Because my notes are the only ones.”

Hannah’s jaw tightened and Graces got a sick satisfaction in seeing her eyes begin to well up with angry tears. 

“She does have the notes,” Hermione stated flatly, apparently deciding that she was done just being a fly on the wall. “I saw them in her satchel when she was getting out what—”

“I’m sorry haven’t you learned anything about sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong? This has absolutely nothing to do with you,” Neville snapped, glaring so hatefully at Hermione that even Graces was taken aback. 

“Neville,” Graces and Hannah whispered in unison. The two girls shared a brief glance at each other before focusing back on Neville.

But Neville’s eyes only went to Graces, clearly only concerned with her opinion on his demeanor. She shook her head. She knew he was angry and he didn’t forgive Hermione, but she didn’t think it was wise or like him to speak to her like that when she knew so much. He made no apologies to Hermione though, if anything his answering stare back at her told her he was firm on this.

“If Malfoy says she doesn’t have them, I believe her,” Neville stated firmly, taking the notes that Graces had offered. 

“I saw them,” Hermione declared more firmly, looking over at Hannah, who still seemed taken aback by Neville’s anger.

Graces had a feeling Hannah was ready to drop the subject all together, but Hermione reached for Graces' bag. Graces let out a startled sound, but Neville was the one to yank her bag out of Hermione’s grasp with so much force Hermione almost fell off her stool. Graces watched as Hermione grabbed her own wand and pointed it at Neville.

Graces looked at Hermione’s wand pointed at Neville and reminded herself that nothing would happen to Neville. Hermione wouldn’t hurt him, not really. School yard hexes were nothing. Still, it made her stomach turn. Neville was fine. She was fine. Draco was fine. Thomas was fine. Octavian was fine. No one was pointing any wands. School hexes, it was all fine. She dug her fingernails into her knee and reminded herself of this to take her away from memories of her standing by as the Dark Lord pointed his wand at Draco. How everyone stood by as the Dark Lord pointed his wand at her. Did she flinch away? Or did she hold proud like Neville had? 

No one held proud when the curse started though. She had screamed. Draco had screamed. She imagined Neville had screamed too when her father had tortured him. Harris had screamed, but he had held proud like Neville. She closed her eyes and tried not to remember him thrashing against the foot of her bed, tried not to remember what had happened when she had drawn her own wand to save them. 

“Graces,” Neville whispered, his hand holding on to her wand hand. She blinked when did she get her wand out? Hermione was sprawled out on the ground, her wand gone and looking up at her fearfully.

“Graces,” Neville repeated, steadying her shaking hand with his other so both of his hands were cradling hers. “Let me have this.” 

She couldn’t breathe. What happened? She looked around to see Sprout had come over as well, her wand out. 

“It’s okay,” Neville soothed. “Let it go.”

She nodded and released her hold on her wand. Neville took it from her, but didn’t move away. She was trembling so violently you would have thought she was freezing to death. Everyone was staring at her, Professor Sprout included. What had happened? She looked at Hermione and the other girl didn’t seem to be hurt. Had she said anything? How long had they been like this? Had she said anything? 

“Breathe,” Neville instructed.

_ Leave. _

Graces moved to do so, but Neville’s hand firmly grabbed at her arm.

“Don’t make this worse than it is.”

“All four of you, outside! Right now!” Sprout demanded, herding them to the door. “Explain.”

Graces could barely make out what everyone was saying. She kept trying to piece together what had occurred. Everything was gone or a blur. Nothing was there. It was just an assortment of things that didn’t make sense where her memory should be. She tried to pay attention to the conversation that was occurring. She heard Hannah accuse her of attacking Hermione. Neville savagely accused Hannah of changing the narrative and pointed out that Granger had pulled her wand out first  _ after _ taking Graces’ bag. And she remembered all that. She did. She didn’t remember kicking Hermione’s stool out from under her, disarming her, and then pointing her wand down at her menacingly. She didn’t remember Sprout telling her to put her wand down either. 

“Miss Malfoy!” Sprout shouted, her temper slipping. Graces looked up startled and some of the anger the older woman was feeling seemed to disappear at whatever she saw in her face. “Graces,” Sprout said, with regained patience. “I want to know why you didn’t listen to me when I told you to drop your wand.”

Graces blinked and shook her head. “I-I—”

Graces turned and suddenly became sick on the lawn. Neville quickly moved to her and held her hair back, not even minding that his actions had ruined his shoes. He didn’t say anything, he refrained from his usual comforts when this happened, but Graces knew this to be a bad idea. She pushed him away and was silently relieved when Sprout took over the action and sent everyone else, Neville included back into class. She rubbed her back and waited for her to stop dry heaving.

“I’m sorry,” Graces wept, holding herself close. “I am. I’m so sorry.”

“Graces,” Sprout began. “What happened?”

Graces bit her lip and continued to cry. “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything after Hermione pulled her wand. I—I lost the time. I don’t remember doing any of that.”

“I think we need to go to the infirmary,” Sprout said quietly. “Come.”

“I can’t keep missing class,” Graces moaned, refusing to allow the older woman’s arm around her. “I won’t pass. I’ll—”

“May I remind you that in your second year many of your classmates were petrified,” Sprout pointed out gently. “You are fine to miss some class, Miss Malfoy. What isn’t fine is you attacking another student and not remembering it. What isn’t fine is you going into shock after and heaving up your breakfast. We are going to the infirmary and on the way I am getting McGonagall, since you are not comfortable talking with me. In a while, when I know you are more situated I am going to dismiss Neville to change his shoes. I have a feeling if given the opportunity to leave he will be with you very soon after.”

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The moment Sprout told him he could be excused to take care of his shoes, Neville moved quickly, sharply away from the desk. His chair may have fallen over, he wasn’t sure. He really wasn’t paying attention to such nonsense. He made a beeline for the infirmary and with every step reminded himself that she was okay and that everything was okay. 

When he entered the infirmary McGonagall looked up from her conversation with Pomfrey. Both witches had solemn expressions and were talking away from the curtained area. 

“She’s fine.” McGonagall nodded, gesturing for Neville to come over to them and not to Graces.

“Neville, has anything like this happened before?” McGonagall asked in a hushed tone.

Neville wasn’t sure how to answer that. He was torn between being honest and protecting Graces. What would they decide if it had? Would they take her away?

“Not like this,” Neville finally answered honestly. “After a bad dream she’s disoriented and—” he stopped. “Never when she’s awake. And she’s never been—”  _ don’t say violent _ “—she’s never tried to hurt me. She just is scared, will try to get away like I’m going to hurt her.”

McGonagall nodded solemnly. “Go be with Graces. Poppy and I have some things to discuss.”

Neville hesitated to leave at that knowledge. He wanted to know what they needed to discuss that they didn’t want him there for. He considered refusing, but the thought of Graces being alone ate away at him.

“Neville, she may be a bit out of sorts,” Pomfrey warned, stopping him. “She had a calming potion, but after talking with Minerva I gave her some muggle medicine. It can make her sleepy and a bit ‘loopy’ for lack of a better word.”

“You gave her a sedative.”

Both women blinked that he knew what that was and then realization shadowed their features. “Yes,” Pomfrey said gently. 

Neville stood there in silence for a long moment before turning his back on the other women. His throat grew tight as he thought of Graces being given that kind of medicine. Images of his mother being held down and screaming came to his mind and then morphed into her face being Graces’. 

_ It’s not the same, _ he reminded himself.  _ They’re not the same.  _

He went over to the curtained area where Graces was and stole a moment for himself before entering. He couldn’t go in there like he was now, upset and angry. If he went in like this he would only upset her more, only make a bad situation worse. He needed to be calm. He needed to not worry about what had happened or why. None of that needed to be answered now. What needed to happen now was to be there for Graces. He could argue with McGonagall and Pomfrey later. He could talk to Graces about it all later. He entered the curtained area and was careful to keep his features calm.

Graces eyes fluttered as Neville entered her makeshift room and he could already tell that the medicine was in effect. She looked tired and confused. She focused on him and he waited for her mind to catch up to her eyes.

“We have to stop meeting like this, Longbottom,” she smiled sleepily, moving to sit up.

Neville shook his head affectionately and motioned for her to lay back down, which Graces gladly did. She closed her eyes for a second and opened them to find Neville had come into the bed with her. He was sitting on top of the covers and she was resting in the knook of his shoulder.

“Did I fall asleep?” 

“For a moment.”

“Pomfrey gave me a sedative.”

“Do you know what that is?” Neville asked, doing his best to keep the question casual and pleasant.

“Yeah, she explained it,” Graces nodded. “She asked if I wanted it.”

“So you chose to have it?”

“Yeah,” Graces whispered, closing her eyes. “You smell good.”

He hummed a reply and kissed the top of her head while his fingers danced in her blonde hair. She sighed contentedly and he could feel her body begin to go limp as she started nodding off. Graces sat up shortly after though. He watched her look around in confusion, as though she were trying to figure out what was happening to her. Neville bit his tongue. They gave her too much, probably because they decided they wanted her to fall asleep.

“It’s okay,” Neville whispered. “Just relax. Don’t make sudden movements.”

“I feel drunk,” Graces said helplessly.

“That’s normal,” Neville promised, leaning her back down. “Just relax.”

Graces eyes immediately turned to his and Neville loved how open she was in this moment. There was no hiding how she felt about him, how she wanted to look and focus on him. No underlying pride that prevented her from just accepting his help.

“Well, one good thing out of this is I don’t think your little girlfriend is so smitten with you anymore.”

“Oh? You’re not so affected by me now?” Neville teased.

Graces frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know I am talking about Hannah.”

“Hannah is not my girlfriend,” Neville reminded.

“You know what I’m referring to, Longbottom.”

“I’m going to ignore your ridiculousness right now, because you have had a hard day and are very, very drugged.”

“I’m not being ridiculous,” Graces muttered petulantly. “She’s always touching you in class and trying to engage you in conversation and—”

“Merlin, I love you,” Neville laughed, pulling her into him more. “She touches my arm and talks to me and you get yourself all in a tizzy like I didn’t ask you to formally court the night before. Like I didn’t give you my mother’s wedding ring.”

“You _ lent _ me your mother’s ring,” Graces corrected. 

“As far as I’m concerned, Graces, that ring is yours.”

Graces bit her lower lip gleefully and Neville watched as her anger quickly disapperated. 

“Is this my engagement ring?” 

“That is not an engagement ring and we are not engaged,” Neville reminded. “So no.”

“AND engagement rings are not exchanged until the last year of the rituals,” Neville quoted, deciding to show off that he had in fact been reading the books.

Graces smiled up at him hazily. “Some exchange earlier.”

“I don’t know if I should call you spoiled or impatient,” Neville laughed.

“Eager,” Graces giggled, snuggling closer into Neville’s shirt. “Is it my wedding band?”

“You are sooo drugged up right now,” Neville grinned, wondering how much of this Graces would remember. 

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Are you married?”

“No.”

“Then it isn’t your wedding band.”

“ _ Will _ it be my wedding band?”

“I hope so,” Neville admitted, feeling very silly having this discussion at sixteen and also exceptionally happy. “See? And you were worried about Hannah Abbott.”

“She keeps touching you,” Graces whined. 

“She touches my arm.”

“And your leg. She touched your leg the other day.”

Neville made a noncommittal sound. “I don’t remember her doing that. I do remember where you touched me the other day,” he said huskily, his fingers wandering down to a sensitive part of her collarbone. “And I remember where I touched you.”

Graces giggled. “Point taken.”

“You have nothing to get upset over. I love you.” Neville’s voice was a mix of soft adoration and amusement. “Only you,” he swore.

“I love you too,” Graces murmured.

He could feel her drifting away. Her body was getting heavier on his and she kept snuggling more into him enjoying the warmth from his body. He understood now why she never wanted to sleep with him before, it was so intimate. Her body softened, her breathing slowed and time seemed to stand still. 

“Neville,” Graces whispered, her voice heavy. “If I fall asleep will you be here when I wake up?”

Neville swallowed the tightness in his throat. “Probably not, my love. I think I have to go back to class, but I will be with you as soon as I am able to.”

“Neville, I do have your notes,” Graces confessed sleepily.

“I figured you did,” Neville sighed, trying not to be irritated. “You know this isn’t keeping a low profile.”

“I didn’t mean for it to blow up like this. I just—I just like having them. I like your doodles in the margins and the little notes you write off the side if you find something intriguing. You even note things I find interesting and—”

“Godric Gryffindor, when did you become so obsessed with me, Malfoy?” Neville laughed, loving this despite the problem it had caused.

“Neville.” Neville grimaced at how Graces voice was starting to slur and slow. “I-I’m suppos—I have something to tell you.”

“It can wait,” Neville promised.

He waited for Graces to say more, but she didn’t. He sat there behind the white curtains and thought about what had happened in class. He couldn’t just accept this. They were doing well, she was doing well. They had help. It didn’t make sense that things had suddenly turned worse. She had never done this before. 

Neville glanced up as the curtain moved and McGonagall came through. A tired worn look on her face as she looked at them.

“She’s not dangerous,” Neville swore, holding her closer. “She’s not. I  _ know _ dangerous and she is not.”

McGongall pressed her lips together for a moment before sitting down at the foot of the bed.

“Are you thinking about your mother?”

Neville’s jaw tensed and for a brief second he hated McGonagall. “Graces is nothing like my mother. My mother _ is _ dangerous.”

The older woman nodded. “I never in my life would have considered Alice dangerous. Ever,” McGonagall emphasized. “She was much like you. She was kind and quiet. She had a very gentle disposition, I was surprised she wanted to be an Auror. I think it was her inquisitive mind and fierce passion that drove her to it.” 

Neville had nothing to say to that. He knew very little about his mother. He just knew what she was now and if he was honest he hated this discussion of what she used to be like.

“Do you know why your mother is dangerous, Neville?”

“Because she’s insane,” Neville answered flatly.

“Because she is a powerful witch with no control over her mind.”

Neville held Graces closer to him and took a shaking breath. He was not going to allow anything to happen to Graces and he would fight anyone, McGonagall included, to ensure nothing happened to her.

“This isn’t the same.”

“No, it’s not,” McGonagall agreed. “Because we have the opportunity and ability to help Graces.”

  
  


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Graces damned her hands for shaking as McGonagall handed her a cup of tea. She placed it down quickly hoping the older woman ignored the clatter of her china. Her head still felt heavy and she was starting to get a headache behind her right eye— if she was honest she could probably fall back asleep. 

_ I can’t sleep, I need to figure out what to do about Thomas’ situation.  _

She was failing. She needed to help Thomas and instead she broke down, over something stupid too. She went over everything that had happened in class again and again. She should have just given Hannah her damn notes. If she had not been so petty then none of this would have happened. She would have had lunch with Neville in the greenhouse and been able to figure something out. She could be executing a plan and instead she was sitting in McGonagall’s living room in a bed that she was very sure was the sofa before.

“Graces.”

Graces looked up at Neville’s head of house and immediately looked away. Whatever she was seeing on McGonagall’s face was not good. There was too much concern and weariness etched there.

“You understand that I have to take this seriously. You could have harmed someone today. We need to—”

“This has never happened before,” Graces pleaded. 

“That isn’t what I am hearing,” McGonagall said gently. “Pomfrey said at the beginning of term she woke you from a nightmare. That you were violently fighting her when she tried to wake you and that Neville was hurt in the process.” 

“She also said she had to see Millicent earlier in the year for a broken nose, due to the same situation. Neville admitted that sometimes when you wake from a dream you’re disoriented and—”

“Am I expelled?” Graces choked, barely able to breathe as she tried vainly to hold back her tears.

“No,” McGonagall swore firmly. “No, absolutely not.”

“Could I soon be?”

“Graces,” McGonagall whispered, placing her hand reassuringly on her knee. “I need to ensure that the students here are safe. I need to ensure that you are safe. What I am getting at is that in order to assure that we need to address the issues you are having now.”

Graces bit her lip and looked down. “I thought I was getting better. I thought—”

“I think in many ways, Graces, you are. But what we have here is a situation where we cannot expect for you to be better overnight.” She was silent for a moment and Graces knew that she had more to say. “You cannot get better without proper treatment and medical care.”

McGonagall held out a series of papers to Graces. The blonde took them and saw question after questions typed out. 

“This is muggle,” she frowned.

“Yes, it is. I would like you to look at these questions and tell me if you think they apply to you.”

Work Sheet 1: Have I experienced a traumatic event?

Purpose: To see if you experienced a traumatic event(s), and if so, what they were.

Instructions: For each of these categories of traumatic events, write down whether

you experienced or witnessed it and, if so, whether your life or safety, or someone

else’s life or safety, was in danger. Describe briefly (in a few words or a sentence)

how you reacted to the event. Use more paper if you need to.

Graces scanned the page: Natural disaster, accident (example car accident), unwanted sexual contact before the age of 18, unwanted sexual contact as an adult, physical assault or threat of assault by someone you know (for example, domestic violence), physical assault or threat of assault by a stranger or in your community (for example mugging, stabbing, or shooting), exposure to combat as a civilian or a soldier, captivity, imprisonment, or torture, sudden unexpected death of a loved one, other.

Graces flipped around to the other pages and could hardly see through her tears as all the worksheets listed questions that applied to her. Do you have difficulty falling asleep? Do you have difficulty staying asleep? Do you have nightmares? Do you have difficulty connecting to people? Have you had thoughts of hurting yourself? Do you avoid people and places that remind you of the traumatic event? I am afraid my feelings surrounding the traumatic event will overwhelm me. I feel anxious, nervous, or tense most of the time. I have intrusive thoughts, images, flashbacks, or memories of the traumatic event(s) that affect my daily life.

She closed the packet violently when she got to the page labeled “reliving” and read briefly about how people with PTSD often relive the traumatic event and can even have times where they feel like the event is happening all over again, how when they were in such a state they could be violent to themselves and others. 

“It applies,” she sobbed, pulling her knees to her chin and covering her face with her arms. “I definitely have it. Everything on there is me.” 

“Graces,” McGonagall began, gently placing her hand on her back as she sobbed violently into her arms. “I know this is hard, but—”

“Can you get Neville?” Graces asked, she knew how she sounded and she didn’t care. Being pitiful was the very least of her problems now.

“Graces,” the older woman said, patient, but firm. “We need to talk about this. I understand that you are comfortable with Neville, but this is a situation that calls for an adult.”

Graces could hardly breathe, she cried into her knees and wondered what all this meant. Post traumatic stress disorder. She had a disorder. She was disordered.  _ Mad.  _

“From what I have read and what I was told when talking to my previous student this is a very normal reaction to what has happened to you, Graces.”

Graces shook her head and tried to get away from McGonagall as the older woman did her best to soothe her. She didn’t want her touching her, she wanted Neville. He knew her, he understood her. McGonagall was trying, but she wasn’t who she needed. She felt like she was on a moving floor. She would stand and it would shift and move until she fell back down, spinning at times to keep her from getting up. And in a world where event after event tried to keep her from moving forward, Neville was an anchor. He held her, being with Neville was like being held. She was safe and secure. McGonagall couldn’t offer that to her.

“How you are feeling, how you are behaving, everything is normal. Your mind is trying to adjust to not just what happened to you, but how it has changed your world. The safety and security you felt for so many years is gone and you need to process.”

“Stop quoting things at me!” Graces screamed, unable to take the older woman’s meaningless assurances. “I can tell when you’re lecturing. Oh, you read up on some books. You talked to a healer. And now you think you know what’s happening to me! This is not normal! If it was so normal then you wouldn’t be contacting healers, you wouldn’t be reading up on-on whatever this is!”

“This is normal,” McGonagall emphasized. “Graces, look at me. What you went through, what you lived through, what you are going through is horrible and it’s _ traumatic _ . You are not abnormal in how you are reacting to it. This is a very normal reaction, but it is also a very serious one,” she stressed solemnly.

Graces shook her head. “I don’t think you know what you are talking about.” She looked up to the ceiling as if the answers were there. “Here you are trying to assure me this is a normal reaction and at the same time I can tell you think I’m going mad. You’re worried I’m dangerous.”

McGonagall licked her lips and seemed to be in careful consideration of what she was going to say next. “If I took a dagger and cut your palm it would be normal for you to bleed. It’s a normal appropriate reaction. But that doesn’t take away from the seriousness of the situation. You are bleeding out, Graces.”

“I need you to fill these forms out so we can address where you are bleeding from and how deep those wounds actually are.”

McGonagall handed her back the packet and Graces stared at the pages of questions asking her to detail not only what happened to her, but how she felt and reacted to it. She sucked in a breath and wondered at how anyone could think to write these questions down so simply, so casually, as though the person filling this out were just doing another test. 

“Everything on here is me,” she whispered tightly. “I-I see no reason why I should have to give so much detail. You know most of these answers.”

McGonagall fell silent for a long while. “How you fill this out will help us—and by us I mean the healer I will give it to—determine what you need. This disorder has multiple treatments. It is a process to figure out what treatment works for one person. Filling this out will give us a starting point.”

Graces shook her head and got out of the bed as though she could run away from the situation. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“I know this is hard,” McGonagall said gently. “But—”

“Hard?” Graces scoffed. “Hard?”

She wiped away some of the tears on her face and bit her lip to keep from screaming. Hard was a term used for a test, a long run, an object that was compact. What McGonagall was asking was nothing short of unendurable. 

“Graces, this is not an option,” the older woman said woefully. “I need this filled out.”

She glared at her professor. Never taking her tear-filled hateful gaze away as she snatched the papers back up.

“Worksheet one,” she read, her whole body shaking with a kaleidoscope of emotions. She could barely keep the quill steady as she began. “Natural disaster—no. Accident— no.  _ Unwanted sexual contact,”  _ she read slowly. “Yes.”

“Graces,” McGonagall begged, closing her eyes. “This is not—”

“Was my life in danger?” Graces read, pretending not to notice McGonagall’s words. “Yes. Should I add in that he tortured me during all this? He cruciated me on top of touching me. He made me tell him I loved him, should I add that in?”

“How I reacted.” Graces looked up from the paper. “How much detail do you want? I screamed, I begged, I prayed,” Graces admitted, her voice so tight that it physically hurt to speak. “I fought and then when that did nothing, when I realized just how pathetic and powerless I truly was I tried to twist my body so I could escape. I tried to clench the muscles in my—”

“Stop.”

“Or maybe you all wanted the aftermath?” Graces continued on savagely. “I made a potion to get revenge, I took a two hour long shower, so hot my skin was burned. I cut my hair, and I stabbed myself in the stomach.”

“Enough,” McGonagall snapped, ripping the papers from her hand and leaving her with a series of papercuts.

Graces stared down at her palms. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and the dampness of emotion coming down off her cheeks. “Something making you uncomfortable, Professor?” she asked softly. “Having a hard time stomaching the images? Imagine how it feels to be asked to not just think about it, but to write it out. So it’s permanently there for people to see.”

“I am trying, Graces. I am doing the best that I can. You’re right, I am out of my depth, but I am speaking to people who are not. And this is what they have asked. No, this isn’t what they asked. They wanted to see you. They wanted to physically talk to you themselves, but I know that’s not an option. I am trying to help you. Let me help you.”

“Then get me Neville,” Graces demanded quietly, turning away from the other woman and staring at her cut up palm. She closed her eyes and knew that Nott was feeling the same pain. And maybe it was wrong or sick, maybe she was going a bit mad, but it comforted her.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Graces stared up at Neville and again tried to decipher his feelings. McGonagall had fetched him from one of his classes. Graces had a feeling that she and Neville had talked privately before coming back. He had come in with the same quiet calmness that he had had with her in the hospital wing. It surprised her, not because she felt that this was out of character for him, but because she expected a bit more emotion from him regarding all that had happened today. He didn’t even seem fazed when McGonagall had handed him the packet to help her fill out. He had looked over the pages, requested a quill and began writing on her behalf. 

“Neville,” Graces whispered, her head still leaning on his shoulder as he continued to write. He made a small sound to let her know she heard him, but didn’t look at her. “I need to tell you something.”

“I’m listening,” Neville murmured, dipping the quill in some ink.

“It’s Thomas,” Graces whispered. “He—”

“I wasn’t in an accident,” she scowled, her eye catching one of the previous questions Neville had filled.

“You were in an accident. Two,” Neville insisted. “Herbology when you hit your head and you almost fell off your broom during that Quidditch match with Gryffindor.”

Graces shook her head dismissively. “Neville, those were nothing.”

Neville did turn to her at those words. “No, Graces, they weren’t. Those were bad accidents and—”

“I was never fearful for my life during those,” Graces insisted. “They don’t count. Not as  _ trauma _ .”

Graces shifted as Neville looked down at her, a slight furrow in his brow. She could tell he was chewing on some words and didn’t like that he felt the need to be so cautious with what he said. They didn’t need to be careful with what they said to one another.  _ He thinks I’m fragile now. That I’m unstable and one small tiny thing can set me off. _

“I feel that they were traumatic,” he began carefully. “I will write in this section—” He gestured to the section that was labeled ‘how I reacted’. “—that you don’t feel that this was traumatic and that during this you were just hurt, but trusted that you would be fine.”

“You shouldn’t include so many details,” Graces grumbled. “They can figure out who I am.”

Neville did pause at those words. His eyes shifted unseeing and he looked down at what had been filled out. “You’re right,” he said quietly. He licked his lips and let out a slow breath. “I’m going to toss this out and get another form. I’ll fill it out with less details.”

Neville moved to get up, but Graces held his shirt to keep him from going. “Neville, I need to talk to you,” she reminded.

Something in her face must have told him this was serious, because he moved back into the bed. His other hand moved to rest on her knee as he leaned into her.

“It’s about Thomas. He—”

“Graces, I think whatever is happening with Thomas can wait,” Neville said patiently. “Right now, let’s focus on getting this filled out so McGonagall can get you help.”

Graces shook her head. “This is more important. He—”

“More important—” Neville blinked. “More important than getting you help? Graces, you swore to me that you would start taking care of yourself. You—”

“I am not breaking my promise,” Graces swore. “This is more pressing. We need—”

“Nothing is more pressing than this,” Neville stated angrily. “Did you read this? This is serious, Graces. Whatever this is, it’s a big deal. And you have been living with it since the summer.” Neville flipped to the pages that listed out signs of PTSD. “You weren’t sleeping, abusing medication, night terrors, risky sex, avoiding people that rem—”

“Neville, please.”

“Today you didn’t know what was happening, Graces.” Neville shook his head. “You had a-an episode over such a small disagreement. You—”

“You think that was about a disagreement?” Graces scowled, unable to believe what she was hearing. 

“Hermione held her wand against you,” she whispered. “And you—you just stood there in all your Gryffindor bravery,” she scoffed, her voice trembling slightly at the memory. “Do you honestly believe that doesn’t have an affect on me? How can you call that a small disagreement? She held her wand to you, Neville.”

Neville was silent for a moment before reminding Graces that even though Hermione was angry the most that would have happened was she would hex him.

“I know that. I knew that,” Graces insisted. “But can’t, I couldn’t bear it, Neville. Seeing that—” She paused and covered her face to keep Neville from seeing how just the thought of it again tortured her. “I wasn’t there anymore. I couldn't bear it. It physically hurt me to see. It—it took me somewhere else.”

She felt Neville’s arms fold around her and moved so her face was pressed into his shirt. “I love you so much,” she confessed. “You don’t know how much, Neville. Because if you knew you would understand how that could affect me. How seeing you like that made me think of Draco being tortured, of Harris being tortured, of—of you being—” She couldn’t say it. “You’re so brave. You’re so brave,” she choked. “My father was going to kill you, and you accepted that, you—”

“Graces,” Neville whispered imploringly. “Please.”

She held him closer. “I need you to not be so brave,” she begged. “Draco can’t be right about you, Neville. When someone pulls a wand on you, you have to act. You have to, because I love you and I won’t lose you. I don’t care if you’re brave and righteous. I don’t care if you did the right thing. I only care that you are by my side.”

Neville didn’t say anything for the longest time. She cried in his arms and wondered when this had occurred, when the mere sight of Neville being in harm's way could break her down to the point where she couldn’t even be in that moment. She wanted to tell herself that there was more to it, that she was just so beside herself regarding Thomas that it set her off, but she knew that not to be true. 

Neville sighed heavily. “I suppose it’s my turn to talk about the Ministry,” he began quietly, rubbing the space between his eyes. 

“You don’t need to justify to me why you went to the Ministry,” Graces said, shaking her head. “I understand why you went and—”

“I’m not going to explain why I went to the Ministry,” Neville interrupted gently. “I’m going to explain why now is different than then, and why you don’t need to worry about me just ‘standing there in all my Gryffindor bravery’.”

“Then—” Neville paused and licked his lips. Graces watched as he seemed to be far away from her despite his arms around her. “I didn’t have you then,” he whispered in awe. “I had no one then. I was no one's best mate, no one's great love. I have my gran and uncle, but most of the time I felt like I was a disappointment to them, to our family name.”

“They were so proud of me after the Ministry. My gran just beamed with pride. I thought she was going to lose her mind about me sneaking out of the school, but she was just so proud. I don’t think she’s ever really been proud of me before then.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Neville,” Graces frowned. “You—”

“It is. She is disappointed in many things and I am sure you have heard some of the howlers over the years.”

Graces had. She had even laughed at some of the ones he received back then. And Neville had always looked so crestfallen and embarrassed for the rest of the day. She bit her lip and wondered at how he could love her after she and Draco made his life so miserable on such horrible days.

“It wouldn’t be like that now. Now if I was at the Ministry I would be desperate to make it out, desperate to see you again, Graces. I mean—I didn’t want to die before, I wanted to live, but now I have all these things that I want to do. I have a life that I want with you. I sit in class and fantasize about taking you out for pizza. I highly doubt you’ve had it, and I spend hours thinking of taking you to try it. I imagine you’ll love it and we’ll end up being one of those couples who orders from the same place so much that they know us by name.” Neville smiled so brightly at the thought that she couldn’t help but grin as well. “I want to take you to Paris. Well, I take you, but obviously you’ll be the one dragging me around showing me everything and deciding what we do.”

“I want to spend a day in bed with you,” Neville said, his voice low and his eyes darkening in a way that made her flush with heat. “I want to make love to you all day and in between talk, read, play card games, and argue about stupid stuff that doesn’t matter like what we should have for dinner.”

“Well, if I’ve spent all day in bed with you I think you will get whatever I want for dinner and for dessert, and for breakfast the next day,” Graces teased, loving the way that Neville smiled back at her in confirmation. “For the record I really love crepes.”

Neville tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his face turning somber again. “I would be desperate not to die, because my last thoughts would be that you didn’t know, couldn’t know how much I love you. I would do whatever it took to get back to you, Graces, so that I could show you how much I love you, so we could do the things people do when they share their life together. Dying young feels more acceptable when you don’t think you’re missing out on much.”

“I need more than a lifetime with you, Graces Malfoy. I need a thousand lifetimes to love you. But people don’t get a thousand lifetimes, they get one. I get one life.” Neville’s jaw tensed and she watched as he seemed to wrestle with some emotion. “So if I only get one life—a life I plan on joining with yours—then I am going to do everything I possibly can to ensure we have as much time as possible to be together.”

Graces swallowed and felt as though she were falling in love with the boy beside her all over again. All those months it had come slowly, but now it was a flood of the same emotions just all at once. “A thousand lifetimes,” she repeated. “Who says things like that?”

“People who are madly in love with you,” Neville whispered, leaning in and kissing her in a way that made her forget that she was in her teacher’s apartment and in mortal danger. 

“I need a thousand lifetimes with you too,” she proclaimed as the kiss finished. 

Neville leaned in to kiss her again, but she gently pressed him away. “You know how we have these wonderful moments and—” Graces paused and took a breath to regain herself. “—and they’re short lived because something is always happening?”

Neville sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “Sounds familiar.”

“I have a problem, a very serious one, involving Thomas, and I don’t know what to do. Well, I have a few ideas, but I doubt you would approve,” she admitted biting her lip. “So I’m about to unload a whole mess on you and I know I’ve already stretched you thin today, but I need you to help me figure this out.”

To Graces surprise Neville didn’t look wary at the prospect. He moved away from her so he could look at her and he actually looked quite pleased. 

“You want my help in figuring out what to do?” he asked, smiling slightly. “Really?”

Graces rolled her eyes affectionately. “We’re talking of formally courting, Neville. Do you honestly think I wouldn’t include you in important matters?”

“Yes, well, this is the first really. I mean, all the other times you were forced to tell me or something along those lines. You usually keep your life pretty separate from us.”

“Well,” Graces shrugged, taking Neville’s hand. “We agreed during our talk that I wouldn’t do that anymore.”

Neville gave her a little half smile before admitting he thought it would take some time before she actually followed through with that promise. Graces wanted so much to not tell him. She looked up into his hazel eyes and knew that the moment she told him this small amount of bliss would be gone. The thought of a few good moments to help them withstand the both kept invading her mind. What if the bad didn’t make up for the good? What if—

“Whatever it is, Graces, I can take it. We can take it.”

“I know,” she nodded, closing her eyes and bracing herself for the fallout.

“Do you remember Thomas’ Aunt? Alethea? The Squib?”

“I remember.”

“As you know she lived in the muggle world, for a very long time,” Graces began, deciding it was better to start from the beginning. “What I don’t think I’ve mentioned before was she had a relationship with a muggle.”

Neville’s brows raised slightly at the news, but he nodded in a way that told Graces he didn’t find this news to be that surprising. “I didn’t realize the Higgs were so… progressive,” he said slowly.

“Yes, well, there were stipulations.”

Neville’s features darkened slightly. “What kind of stipulations?” 

Graces opened her mouth and shut it. She understood why the Higgs family did what they did, but she knew that Neville would not. She glanced up and could tell that he was already against what was done.

“Having a child that can’t be in this world is difficult; they wanted her to be happy. They didn’t force her to stay here, or marry a low level wizard. They let her live where she wanted to live, paid for her schooling and her living expenses during that time. They—”

“Parents don’t get points for being parents,” Neville interrupted. “They had her, she was their child, and they absolutely should have done those things. What were the stipulations?”

Graces flushed at Neville’s abruptness. She felt as though in a way he was scolding her, though she had done none of this to the woman.  _ He is scolding you. You thought this acceptable.  _ “She could be with the muggle, live with him even, but she could not marry him and she could have no children. Precautions were taken to ensure this,” Graces added quietly. 

“To keep the bloodline pure,” Neville scoffed bitterly. “They made her barren.”

Graces nodded. “He never knew of our world or of the reason for why they were never able to conceive a child.”

Neville closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “Right, he doesn’t get to know about our world, because the International Statute of Secrecy doesn’t allow it unless you are married, so she’s stuck lying.”

“Yes,” Graces said quietly looking down at her hands.

“Did they want children?”

“Yes,” Graces murmured. “She mentioned something about it, about having to lie about why it wasn’t happening for them. They saw doctors apparently, but—” Graces let her voice die.

  
  


Neville closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “That’s awful.”

Graces didn’t feel it was appropriate to comment on that. She had felt that this all was very fair. Thomas’ family had allowed her a lot— much more than her family would have allowed her. She wanted to leave this world and not only had they allowed it, they had paid for everything she needed until she didn’t need them to. It wasn’t perfect, they all made sacrifices, but now as she sat there she considered just how much more Alethea’s sacrifice was in comparison. 

“When we got her from that world, she told him the truth,” she continued quietly. “Apparently, squibs aren’t traced. The Ministry feels that if they talk muggles will just find them mad, so they don’t bother. So she told him everything, about our world, the issues of her being born without magic, the restrictions her family put on her... Anyways, he didn’t take it well.”

“I should imagine not.”

“I thought it ended, but according to Thomas they worked it out. The muggle moved in after a month or so. Thomas didn’t tell me or Draco. He was too frightened, because of what could happen and he has grown a fondness for him,” Graces shook her head. “The muggle’s been helping to raise Octavian and now... now that he knows everything he wants to get married. He wants to get married and he wants Alethea and him to adopt Octavian and Thomas. He thinks they should move out of Higgs manor and into the home he and Alethea have. Thomas would continue to go to school here, but he wouldn’t have the role he has now. The muggle doesn’t respect Thomas as the patriarch, he treats him like a child. And Thomas said that he forbid him and Alethea to be married, but the muggle—”

“What’s his name?”

Graces blinked. “What?”

“The muggle. What’s his name?” Neville repeated.

Graces bit her lip. “I, uh—”

“Merlin, Graces,” Neville cursed, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“John. His name is John.”

Neville nodded and mouthed the name John as though he were entering it into his memory. There was this tired frustration to him as he laid there. He continued to rub his head and Graces didn’t know if it was the endless amount of bad situations they found themselves in, or if it was his exhaustion from the problems she caused and the beliefs he had been fighting her on for the past few months. She bit her lip and acknowledged it may be all of that, but right now it was her beliefs.

Graces swallowed some emotion. “I’m sorry I didn’t say his name. That... that I think— _ thought _ —this was all okay. This is how I was raised, Neville. I was raised to believe purity matters, my family—”

“And it’s that belief system that allows purebloods to do horrible things,” Neville reminded, his voice taking on a frosty tone. “Like making their daughters barren, killing muggles, as if their life doesn’t matter as much. Purity matters,” he repeated, shaking his head. 

Graces swallowed tightly, shame assaulting her though she tried to move away from it. “My beliefs have changed, Neville,” she promised, her voice barely a whisper. “Maybe not as much as you wish they would, but they are different.”

“Do you think it’s okay for Thomas, who is, what, 13? 14? to decide what two grown adults do with their life? He forbade them to be married,” Neville scoffed. “Merlin.”

“He is the patriarch,” Graces reminded. “And you know how dangerous it is for—”

“That’s not the point, Graces,” Neville cut off. “I think you would believe that Thomas had that power regardless of this war.”

Graces flushed at the truth in those words, but she didn’t know how that was so bad.

“I do see that your beliefs have changed,” Neville said, his voice gentler, but still imploring. “But you still have such… bias. What gives Thomas more right to lead the family? I don’t even think he wants to. He definitely doesn’t want to be a father, I’m sure he misses being a child, why is it so awful in your mind that two people who clearly care about those boys take on that role?”

Graces jaw trembled. “I don’t think I have to say it,” Graces murmured. “I think you know.”

“Yeah,” Neville nodded, his voice weighted with all his feelings. “I do.”

A heavy silence blanked them. Graces bit her lip unsure of how to approach him. She wanted to move on from this discussion and just get to the real point of the matter. 

“Remember, my family thought I was a squib for the longest time,” Neville said quietly. “Honestly, I thought I was a squib. I was so young and trying to come to terms with not being a wizard, which for so many people meant that I was not just handicapped but less. I was less,” Neville repeated, unable to hide how much that hurt him. 

“I know that my gran and my uncle love me,” he continued, his voice filled with gravel, “But I also know that they struggled with the thought of a child in their family not being magical. And I was scared, because there wasn’t a place for me in this world and I could see everyday that my gran, and even at times my uncle, were fighting the impulse to not be disgusted with the idea of raising a child outside of the wizarding world. And I was just thankful that they weren’t planning to do worse to me,” he murmured. “Thankful that they would allow me that. They put me in the muggle primary school because they were trying to make my transition into their world smooth.” 

“Neville,” Graces started tightly.

“It took til this year for me to just feel like I’m barely more than a squib,” he admitted, continuing on. “Magic has such weight in this world. Without it you’re nothing here. Without it a child gets to decide your life.”

She couldn't deny that truth. She hated that Neville felt that way, that all that had happened to him, but at the same time she also held those beliefs. 

“Was one of the options you were considering killing him? Killing John, for being so bold as to think he could create a family out of ruins?” 

Graces closed her eyes. “I wouldn’t have done it,” she said tightly. “I would have just channeled my father and made him think I would, scare him enough to leave. From what Thomas has told me he doesn’t believe that the mu—John—knows how dangerous this all is. Alethea has warned him, but not to the correct degree. She seems to be too scared of losing him. ”

“Hmmm, doesn’t that sound familiar,” Neville scoffed tiredly. 

Neville was silent for a long time and though he continued to hold her Graces wondered if he wanted to. They didn’t really have these discussions. The few times they came up something happened, but now it wasn’t avoidable. She considered what he must be feeling towards her now that they were having to face one of their biggest differences.

“Would you love me? If I was a muggle,” Neville asked after a while.

“You’re not. You’re a pureblood like me.”

“But if I wasn’t. Would you love me? If I wasn’t magical, if I wasn’t pure? If I was me, but just missing those things. Would you love me? Think me equal to you?”

Graces bit her tongue. She didn’t even understand why they were having this discussion. She was in danger. Thomas was in danger. Octavian was in danger, and Neville wanted to sit here and talk about imaginary scenarios. She was about to point this out but stopped at the look on Neville’s face. It was more than disappointment, it was pain. 

He thought she wouldn’t. And for some reason that bothered her. It bothered her that Neville thought her love so feeble. It also shocked her that she even felt bothered by it. Before she would have thought the answer of no would have been completely appropriate., but now, now it didn’t make sense to not love Neville. She considered what she had wanted before, what her parents had raised her to want: pureblood, rich, heir, powerful, and from a decent family that upheld their traditions. No blood traitors. 

Neville was pure and she would say powerful in other ways her parents wouldn’t acknowledge, but he wasn’t rich, being an heir of two other family members was pointless, he was definitely a blood traitor. And yet she loved him, so much that none of those things really factored into her feelings. And when she thought of the reasons she loved him blood status and power meant nothing. 

“I would,” she whispered, a bit surprised. “I would love you. Once I knew you it wouldn’t matter.”

Neville nodded his expression calm, but determined. “Now imagine that you couldn’t marry me, or tell me why, that you had to lie to me about it and watch my disappointment. You couldn’t have a baby, because someone hated me so much without ever meeting me that they would deny us that. Imagine that you just tell your brother about us and he does that to you. How would you feel, Graces? If Draco decided, not us, that we would not have a baby. If Draco took it upon himself to alter your body, to take away your right to choose.”

“I would be devastated,” she admitted. “Why are we having this discussion? There’s nothing I can do. I didn’t do any of this to them. This is our world, this is our reality and right now I can only try to save us from the consequences of it.”

“If we want this world to change, we have to be a part of that change, even when it’s hard,” Neville stressed quietly. “Even when it could have a cost to us.”

“Why do we have to change this world? I just want to survive it,” Graces said imploringly. 

Neville narrowed his eyes. “Graces, I want a life for us and we can’t have one if we don’t win this war. You’ve given me hope of a life with you and damn if I won’t have that with you now. I want it all. And I don’t want to be looking behind our backs constantly. I don’t want to worry over you going somewhere alone. We need a better world for that pretty life you put in my head.”

Graces was about to argue that as purebloods they could always have that life, but then stopped herself. Neville would never not fight. He would never allow muggleborns and muggles to be mistreated or made into second class citizens. She thought she could, she could turn the other cheek for the knowledge that hers were safe, but Neville couldn’t. One of the greatest reasons she loved him also could be their downfall.

“I’m not like you, Neville,” Graces said hushly, balling her fists up in the sheets. “I’m not  _ good _ like you. You hear all this and immediately want to do the right thing. You... you are empathetic to people you don’t even know.” She felt as though she were falling down a well and she didn’t know if there was water or ground below. She was too scared to look at Neville, as if he would see all the horrible thoughts that were hers alone to bear if she did. “I don’t care about other people the way you do. I care for a select few. Damn the rest if need be.”

“I do want to do the right thing,” she swore, unable to stop her tears from falling freely now that the damn had broken. “But I’m scared. I’m scared,” she repeated. “I’m trying, Neville, I am. I came to you for a reason, but I c-can’t be like you. I’m scared this will never come naturally for me.”

“You think I want you to be like me?” Neville asked, tilting her chin so she was looking up at him.

“Don’t you?”

Neville shook his head slowly and ran his hand through her hair. “I selfishly enjoy being one of the very few you love and care for. I used to be so envious of those you loved.” She could feel Neville’s breath on her lips intermingling with her own. “I never dreamed anyone would love me passionately, let alone love me enough to burn the world for me if need be. I thought I'd have a quiet love that grew, not this.”

“What’s this?”

“Wildfire,” Neville laughed breathlessly. “All-consuming, constantly growing, unplanned—”

“Destructive.”

“I would rather die in the ashes of our love then live a lifetime with anything less.”

Graces sniffed. “Will you still feel that way when you’re burning?”

“I am burning,” Neville declared. “As are you. And I believe we are both being forged into something different. Better. Each blow we take is making us something new, something stronger.”

“I once said that you’ll be the death of me. You have been. I could never go back to who I was before you and I don’t think you could go back to who you were before me,” Neville smiled sadly. “Who we were before each other doesn’t exist anymore.”

She considered who she was before, who she was on her way to becoming. “I don’t want to be who I was before,” she murmured. “I don’t want to believe the things I did before.”

“I’m going to challenge you more, Graces,” Neville said gently. “I think it’s important we talk about these things: blood purity, magic, muggles, religion, all of it. I can’t expect you to let go of some of your beliefs without talking to you and giving you new ones. I have no expectations that all of your beliefs will be the same as mine. I don’t think you and I will ever agree on religion, but I think we should still have an understanding of each other. I think you should challenge me too. I know there are things you want me to do, but I’m too me to do them.”

Graces’ mouth twitched slightly. “Think I could convince you to dance naked on Samhain, start observing some holidays.”

Neville narrowed his eyes and shifted uncomfortably. “Like I said we can talk about it.”

She leaned up and kissed Neville softly, moving her hand to the stubble on his chin. “So what do we do now regarding our current situation?”

“Talk to McGonagall then talk to Alethea and John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Thanks so much for reading! Don't forget to comment/kudo/ bookmark :D


	104. Chapter 104

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks to Denarii for editing and thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Yona393, Sam, HappyButterbeer, loverofnevillelongbottom, and Josielyn13 
> 
> Also another thank you to those who left kudos <3

Chapter 104

Neville chewed on the end of his nail as he re-read what was expected of him when he officially asked Graces to formally court. Apparently, him asking earlier wasn’t proper. There was actually a particular way he was supposed to ask, an actual sequence of words he was supposed to say as well as a gift he was supposed to give. It also should have been done in the presence of one of her family members. There were also rules about the formal attire he was to wear and the colors that would be appropriate. Graces had delicately written a note on some of her stationary and tucked it into that chapter- apparently she had a preference for how his robes should be fitted and what colors she thought would showcase his features best. He shook his head and wondered at how much willpower it had taken Graces to bite her tongue and not point this all out when he had asked originally.

He held her note and prayed that tonight was going to go well. She and McGonagall were going to Higgs Manor to talk to John and Alethea and his stomach was in knots over it all. He knew that Graces was going to be safe, that McGonagall would never allow harm to come to her, but his mind kept drifting back to October. He felt like he should be going with her, McGonagall was going as a cat, he had asked if she could transform him so he could go too, but she was very firm on his not coming. 

It was stupid. Him being there couldn’t do anything. McGonagall was far more capable than he at keeping Graces safe if something went wrong. But the thought of her being far from him, in a place where he could not get to her made him sick with worry. If something happened in the castle he could get to her. He _ would _ get to her. Nothing would stop him from finding her and making sure she was safe, but he was helpless if she was so far from him.

_ I can’t watch her every second of the day because I’m scared. That’s not what Graces would want, that’s not how I want to be. _

Neville closed his eyes for a moment before flipping the page to continue reading. As he continued to read about what he would need to do to join with Graces he considered what he wanted after they were joined. He didn’t want to be the kind of husband that felt the need to go everywhere Graces did, that checked on her, that thought because he was a man he was somehow responsible for her safety. He and Graces were to be equals, they would keep each other safe. 

“What are you reading?”

Neville looked up at Hermione, the background of the common room continuing on around them as she moved to sit next to him on the windowsill. There was a hesitancy in her presence, but she continued to wait patiently for his reply.

“Go away.”

“Neville,” Hermione pleaded. “I know I made a mistake, but I want to make it right. You won’t even look at me. I can’t say a word to you without you becoming hostile towards me. How long is this going to go on?”

“Forever.”

“You’re going to hate me forever?” Hermione demanded, raising and dropping her hands in the air. “Forever.”

Neville flipped to the middle of the book so Hermione couldn’t see that he was reading about courting. “I don’t hate you. I wouldn’t devote that much energy into feeling something for you.”

Hermione stilled at the words, but Neville didn’t look up to see her reaction to them properly. He had learned a few things from Graces over their months together and feigning indifference over hatred was definitely a better move. It allowed more control, while the other person was left feeling more out of control. So with this in mind he pretended to be especially interested in his book and waited for Hermione to leave.

“You sound like Graces.”

Neville snorted. “Graces would say she hates you and then blatantly list all her reasons why. She thrives on animosity. It invigorates her.”

He could feel Hermione’s eyes on him and it took an immense amount of effort on his part not to fidget under it. He was steadily becoming more impressed with Graces’ skill. 

“You say that as though you enjoy that about her,” Hermione said quietly. 

“What I do and do not enjoy about Graces Malfoy is none of your business.”

“Neville, is this what you want?” Hermione whispered moving closer to him. “This can’t be what you want. Don’t miss your friends? Being a part of everyone’s everyday life?”

“What exactly do you think that I miss?” Neville asked angrily, his facade slipping completely. “Being the pity invite to hang out? The chubby background character that provides comic relief with his own stupidity?”

“I actually quite like being the main character in my own life,” Neville clipped, closing the book entirely and setting it down. “Don’t sit there and tell me what I do and do not want. I know what I want and who I want.” 

Hermione shook her head at him sadly. “Is that what this is? You’re lonely? You—you don’t feel like you’re important?”

“No, of course not.”

“That’s what you just said.”

“No. You’re listing things you think that I am missing, and I’m pointing out that there is nothing to miss.”

“You think your life is going to be good with Graces Malfoy?” Hermione asked. “Being her dirty secret? Being manipulated? I saw first hand how she treats you and Ron told me you wake up multiple times at night. That you go to the loo, but he can tell you’re upset and—”

“Keep your bloody voice down,” Neville hissed. “You’re talking to Ron about me?”

“He’s noticed a change, Hannah’s noticed a change too,” Hermione added. “She told me about what happened in muggle studies and—”

“I’m sorry, what exactly happened in muggle studies?” Neville scowled, this all being news to him.

“She tried to talk to you, to make things right about what occurred in Herbology, clear the air and you just brushed her off. And then told her to stop touching you.”

“I told her not to worry about it,” Neville stated flatly. “And yes, when she had her hand on my arm I told her that I would prefer her to not touch me so much. I didn’t think that this interaction really warranted gossiping to you about it.”

“Well, it hurt her feelings,” Hermione said quietly. “You two used to be friends and now you ignore her completely. She’s tried multiple times to be close to you again and you just freeze her out. And I don’t think that’s your doing. I think that’s Graces. Can’t you see she’s isolating you from everyone, Neville? You have no one outside of her. You don’t even have time for Luna anymore. And I’ve noticed the books,” Hermione added.

“I highly doubt that you on your own became so interested in pureblood culture. You’re reading all about family history and traditions. Why would she want you reading those things, Neville? Can’t you see what she’s doing?”

Neville stared at Hermione for a long time.

“I don’t give a damn if I hurt Hannah’s feelings. I have a right to my own person and autonomy. If I was a girl and said I would prefer to not be touched there would be no questions asked. Hannah needs to get over me. I don’t want to be her boyfriend and I won’t want her to touch me. As for the books, I can read whatever the bloody hell I want to read.”

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

Neville quickly went up the stairs to the 6th floor boys’ room. His heart was racing furiously in his chest and he had an insane need—not desire, it was a need—to hit something. He slammed the door and paced on the floor of his room. A rational part of him argued he needed to calm down, that he should appreciate that Hermione cared about him. That she was only acting off what she saw and thus her concerns were valid. But another part of him, the part that he would rather listen to, pointed out that she would not have had any impression of him and Graces if she hadn’t been spying on him. 

That even with what she saw she should still trust that he would never turn on his own morality and beliefs. Hermione’s concern now only meant one thing, that she didn’t trust him. That she thought he could turn his back on people like her who would suffer if Voldemort regained power. He had said no. Hermione saw him say no, she saw him broken up into pieces afterwards too. 

He thought about the days after Valentine's day, when Graces had said they were over. Agony wasn’t even the correct word to describe it. His chest had felt as though it were caved in on itself. He always thought heartache was just a term, he didn’t realize it was an actual physical feeling. There was nothing dramatic when people said they had heartache, they did. It was a real, tangible pain that you carried throughout the day that would intensify at any moment it chose. He really thought it may be over. He wouldn’t admit it, even then, because the pain of it would have overwhelmed him, but it really felt like it could have been the end.

He would have never loved anyone the way he loved Graces. The rest of his life would have been spent pining for her and remembering their time together. Merlin, at the time he wasn’t even able to fall asleep unless he closed his eyes and pretended that they were still together. That she never asked him to take the Mark, that he never denied her. He had gone through all that and Hermione still suspected him.

“Neville?”

He turned to see Harry standing in the doorway and quickly looked away. He wiped away a few tears and shook his head.

“Hermione’s crying,” Harry said quietly. “She just ran out of the common room in tears.”

“Good.”

“Neville,” Harry whispered. “Talk to me. I need you to talk to me. The whole school is talking about Graces attacking Hermione and—”

“Are they talking about how before that Hermione pulled her wand on me? How before that she took Graces’ satchel and was about to rummage through it?” Neville demanded. 

“You and I both know that’s not how the gossiping works.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t sound like Hermione is trying to set the record straight,” Neville pointed out bitterly. 

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “Hermione did tell me that part. She told me that Graces lied about not having your notes, she saw them clear as day in her bag, but that you wouldn’t even listen to a word she said. She thinks Graces is manipulating you and she doesn’t know what to do about it.”

“Graces is not manipulating me,” Neville scoffed. “I knew she was lying and had my notes. She just wanted to keep them. She apparently likes the drawings I make in the margins,” Neville muttered rolling his eyes. “Hannah was purposely being mean and Hermione made things worse.”

“I know she’s not manipulating you,” Harry said, moving so he was closer to Neville. “But Hermione doesn’t know everything that I know. From what she knows that’s how this all looks. It looks like Graces enjoys using your feelings against you. She doesn’t know all the other stuff.”

“She says that you two had a row and you won’t even let her apologize and anytime she talks to you she is immediately met with animosity. And I’ve seen that first hand, Neville. Tell me what has Hermione done that is so unforgivable that you can’t treat her like a person.”

“She spied on me, and Graces too,” Neville added softly, his stomach already turning as he remembered the violation.

“I spied on Graces,” Harry recalled. 

“Yeah, well, you didn’t watch me fuck her,” Neville snapped.

Harry’s mouth popped open and his eyes fluttered about for a few moments before he let out a very anti-climatic ‘oh’.

“Yeah, oh,” Neville repeated bitterly, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his hair and took a moment to regather himself. To try and rail in this misdirected anger. “That was crass,” he rasped, embarrassed and ashamed. “I didn’t—” He waved his hand around. “—I mean we had sex, but I didn’t—it wasn’t like—”

Harry made some gesture to let Neville know he understood, but really didn’t want him to continue. 

“So that’s what’s so unforgivable,” Harry whispered. 

Neville’s face contorted and he looked up as though beseeching the heavens for answers. “No, that’s not it. I think I could actually forgive that.”

Neville damned himself for already being in tears. “I took Graces on a date and we talked… I told her all kinds of things that I wouldn’t tell anyone else. And I—” Neville bit his tongue. He didn’t want to tell Harry about his parents house. “She should have left. She shouldn’t have spied at all, but she should have left when she realized how intimate the date was for me.”

“So how long has Hermione known about you two?” Harry asked slowly. “And... why is it that she still seems to feel Graces’ feelings aren’t genuine? She honestly believes Graces is trying to hurt you, Neville. I know that’s not true, but she has to have a reason for believing that. I don’t think she would just think that solely because of her last name.”

Neville wasn’t sure how to answer that. He believed that most of Hermione’s feelings were already made prior to everything she saw when they were back at the castle. “She only had a brief glimpse of the two of us and Graces that day she—she asked me to—”

He stopped and thought of the mess it would create if he told Harry Graces had asked him to take the Mark. He glanced up at Harry and then realized that the support he now had would be gone.

“She asked you to take the Mark,” Harry said gently, nudging the conversation on. “Graces told me about that.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, she did. She’s very peeved at you for picking me,” Harry grinned, clearly trying to ease some of the tension. “I should tell her it’s the eyes and that you’ve been sleeping with me for the past six years and with her for only one. And not even every night.”

Neville laughed. In the midst of everything he was surprised the emotion could overtake him, but it did. 

“You wish your eyes were as pretty as hers.”

He looked over at Harry and there was so much patience and understanding in his eyes. He suddenly wanted to know what all Graces had told him, it seemed as though she had told him a lot more than he could have ever guessed. Harry not only was aware of his relationship with her, he was supportive of it. Harry didn’t want him to leave her, or question his feelings regarding her and he seemed to offer the same support to Graces regarding him.

“Obviously, I didn’t do it,” Neville gestured, his sleeves were rolled off displaying his bare forearms. “But Hermione—” He shook his head. “—she acts like I’m going to, like I could be swayed.”

Harry nodded and ran his hand through his already messy hair. He seemed to want to say something, but was trying to find the words.

“Hermione has been asking a lot of questions about you lately. She’s noticed the books and she’s a bit concerned.”

“What has she been saying?” Neville demanded.

Harry shrugged and seemed disinclined to answer. “Nothing obvious. Just ‘why do you think Neville’s reading that?’, ‘That’s a different book from yesterday.’ She apparently bought a copy of one book and told me and Ron that it is very anti-marriages between muggles and the magical community.”

“I’m not stupid reading this,” Neville declared, holding the book up for Harry to see. “It does blame mixed marriages for the loss of traditions in our world. But I’m smart enough to remember that the reasoning that culture was lost was because of us. Purebloods pushed for the statute of secrecy to not allow for muggles to know of this world until after they were married. I understand what that did. It wasn’t about keeping us safe. It was about punishment for dating someone that wasn’t magical, punishment for marrying someone magical.”

Neville chewed the inside of his lip. “So you marry someone who isn’t magical and then that night you destroy everything they knew of you. They find out you lied about your job, your schooling, family, religion, where you grew up, everything. Then the question is what do you do? Do you ask this person you have lied to, to accept your world, that they can’t be a part of? No. You do everything you can to make them comfortable, to make up for your lies. You adopt their traditions, not just because you feel badly, but because how are they going to participate in our traditions without magic? All our rituals have magic involved. That’s without mentioning that their family can’t come to our world for holidays, or even know that their daughter, sister, brother, married a magical person. No, better to go to the muggle world and all be together.”

“I can read this book and see how it’s manipulating the truth. Purebloods damned their own culture by refusing to make it easy for muggleborns to integrate, by refusing to make mixed marriages easier, by refusing to be progressive with our own. Graces is less important to her family than Draco is. Some purebloods refuse to name a girl as their heir entirely. The Ministry still upholds laws dictated by the pureblood community that punish family members for stepping out of line. Whoever is the patriarch of the family can make decisions for everyone below them. Doesn’t matter their age or temperament. And it’s okay to kick your own child out of the family for something you deem unforgivable, or render your own daughter barren,” Neville rasped tightly. 

“So why are you reading the books then? Is that Graces? Or a genuine interest?”

“A little of both,” Neville shrugged. “Graces cares about this stuff. Tradition. And not all the traditions are bad. Nothing wrong with culture and religion, when it’s not hurting someone.” Neville swallowed. “Graces is doing a lot so she and I can be together. So I wanted to do something too. Show her I’m serious about her, about us.”

“I, uh, asked Graces to formally court... once we tell Draco,” Neville added quickly. “She sent all the books because there’s a lot of rituals and etiquette that I don’t know because I’m a dirty blood traitor. But it matters to Graces, she wants all of it, she wants to do things proper.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “I-I’m sorry, Neville, I don’t quite follow. What does it mean to formally court?”

“Dating with the intention of being joined, married. We would court, which is a bit more formal than dating, and during that courtship at certain times of the year we would go through a ritual. Each ritual is designed to help us become closer and understand each other better, as well as continue to challenge us, ensure we really should be getting married. At the end of it then we would be joined.”

“So… you’re engaged?”

“No,” Neville stated firmly. “No. Erm, it’s not like that. It’s serious, but we wouldn’t be engaged until after a year of rituals.”

“So you’re engaged to be engaged.”

Neville bit his lower lip. “There’s dating, which purebloods see as frivolous. Really, for strict families, they would find this unacceptable. Ron and Lavender are a good example. Too passionate too early, no supervision, nothing serious intended, no family involvement. Courting, which is seen by purebloods like you see dating, but with more supervision and rules, so none of their kids end up tossing about like Ron and Lavender. There’s a chaperone for dates, but other than that the couple is free to get to know one another without many other restrictions. And formally courting which is seen as seriously dating. It also has more rules, and more family involvement since they see it as a slow merging of two families. Its design is to test the waters of a joining between more than just the couple, but the family. Thus the family is a part of every ritual almost. One of the first rituals is three months of separation. During that time, I don’t get to see Graces at all really. We can write and there’s a family dinner once a week, if allowable. During that time I get to know the family. The time I would have spent with Graces I spend with them. So, in this case, Draco.”

“And you want to do that?” Harry asked skeptically. 

“Yeah, I do. I really do,” Neville nodded, a small smile coming to his lips. “I like the idea of our families coming together. I love Graces and Draco is such a big part of her, not just her life, her. I want him to be included. I like the idea of him being involved and I’m also hoping that this can repair some of the damage done by how Graces and I came together. This secret has destroyed her relationship with Draco. I don’t want her to have to fix that alone.”

Harry’s lips pinched together and he nodded along. He looked up at Neville unsurely, clearly at a loss to all of this. Neville wondered if it was all just too strange for him or if he didn’t approve.

Neville let out a sigh. “This is the part where you congratulate me,” Neville chuckled, pushing Harry’s arm and hoping that his friend still supported him. He suddenly realized just how desperately he wanted support on this. “Congratulations, Nev. May there be a joining.”

“You’re just so young.”

“I'd be twenty-two by the time we were joined.”

Harry blinked at that and then stared down at his shoes pensively. Neville frowned, but didn’t press his friend. 

“My mum was 21 when she died,” Harry murmured quietly. “I never really thought about that. She must have married and had me quite young.”

As quickly as the look had overtaken Harry it faded away. “Congratulations, Neville. May there be a joining.” Harry shook his head. “Graces Malfoy. Merlin, who would have ever thought.”

“Me,” Neville grinned.

“I don’t think you would have even imagined this before this year,” Harry pointed out.

Neville chuckled to himself. “No, but there was a moment at the Yule Ball where I definitely noticed her.”

“Really?” Harry asked, laughing.

Neville shook his head and flushed beet red. “Yeah. She was dancing with someone, probably Draco, and she was laughing and she was wearing that dress that had that slit up the side and- and then I very quickly reminded myself that I was looking at Malfoy. Now I wish I could go back and take a better look.”

“Neville,” Harry said earnestly. “Why not tell Hermione everything? She knows about you two, why not set the record straight with her. It would surely make things easier and you two could possibly be friends again.”

“No, we couldn't be,” Neville swore venomously. “She should trust me now without the knowledge. She has been my friend since first year, she was my first friend that I made here. I was her first friend. I could not believe how nice she was to help me look for Trevor on the train, this girl who barely knew me. That’s six years of friendship, Harry. For six years I thought she knew me. When I would get down on myself she was the one to comfort me. When I needed help in classes she always partnered up with me. She knows about my parents. Damn it all, she saw my mum. And I carried her body in the Ministry,” Neville reminded quietly. 

Neville shrugged. “I know I’m not Hermione’s best mate. You and Ron are, I realized very quickly that while she was my best friend, I wasn’t hers.”

“Neville,” Harry said comfortingly. 

Neville waved him off. “I’m not her best friend, that’s fine. But I thought we were good friends. I thought she at least knew me. Knew me enough to know I wouldn’t take the Mark for any reason.” Neville took a long suffering breath. “If I tell Hermione everything then we really won’t ever be friends.”

“I don’t think that’s how it is,” Harry implored. “I think Hermione does know you and I think she knows what having someone like Graces must mean to you.”

“No, I get that,” Neville nodded. “And she thinks that I could be so desperate to not be alone that I would let people die.”

“That you could be so in love that you lose sight of who you are,” Harry corrected.

Neville shook his head. “She doesn’t believe I love her though. She thinks that Graces is tricking me and I am allowing for her  _ womanly ways _ to persuade me.” 

“Neville, I probably would have thought that too had I not spoken to Graces.”

“I don’t want to tell Hermione,” Neville stated firmly. “For so many reasons I don’t want to tell her. I think she should trust me, I hate that she spied on me, and I feel a need to protect myself and Graces from her.”

“What if Hermione tells?” Harry challenged. “Graces won’t be safe if she tells.”

“She won’t do that.”

“She is really worried.”

“Then she tells who? McGonagall who knows? Dumbledore who knows? You? Those are the people she would tell and they all know.”

“You’re going to take that chance? I know you love Graces, Neville. And I can’t imagine how devastated you would be if something happened to her and you could have prevented it.”

Neville hesitated, briefly giving the validity of what Harry was saying some consideration before dismissing it. “I’m not telling Hermione anything. Neither are you. This is my business.”

Harry twisted his mouth and shook his head exasperatedly, before breathing out a fine. “I don’t agree with this, Neville. I think you’re making a mistake. I think it is malice, like you want Hermione to continue to worry and hurt.”

Neville snorted, not liking the idea that he could want that, but unable to pretend that he absolutely didn’t. “I have enough on my plate at the moment without having to care about Hermione and her feelings.”

“Like what?”

“What?”

“What other things do you have on your plate,” Harry spelled out.

Neville rubbed the back of his neck and just shook his head. “Things,” he said quietly. 

Harry nodded and became very interested in the post of the bed for a while. “I know there’s probably a lot you can’t tell me,” Harry began, still not quite meeting Neville’s eyes. “But I think there are a few things you could tell me. You’ve made it clear that you won’t talk about Draco, or details of the situation Graces is in. But you could tell me how you’re feeling, why you seem to not be able to sleep through the night.”

“You going to tell me why you can’t?” Neville asked flatly. 

“I think the reasons why I can’t are pretty damn clear,” Harry pointed out, his voice patient despite Neville’s. “I can spell it all out for you, but it’s pretty obvious what my bad dreams would be.”

Neville swallowed and tried to think of a reason why he couldn’t just allow himself to trust someone. He honestly felt like he was talking too much with people regarding his feelings. He hated how suddenly everyone seemed to want to know how he felt and yet he hadn’t really told anyone much. 

“When I’m not around Graces, I mean when I cannot physically see her,” Neville clarified, his finger moving about in front of him as though he were showing Harry something written on a chalkboard “I-I don’t even know. I feel scared? Distressed?” Neville scowled knowing that didn’t make sense. “That doesn’t make sense. I don’t know what this feeling is. I keep thinking odd thoughts. Like odd scenarios come into my head. I’ll just be sitting there and everything will be fine and suddenly I am worried out of my mind that something has happened to her.”

“Do you feel this way now?” Harry asked.

Neville nodded and looked away. Now that he said it out loud he felt even more foolish for the feeling. Knowing it was foolish didn’t change the fact he felt that way though and he did have reasons to worry about Graces, especially tonight, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t always feel this way. He didn’t even really know how long this had been going on. Maybe a little in October, but it wasn’t like this. No, it didn’t get this bad until Graces had gotten bad and then it felt beyond his control when he found out everything.

“What does Graces say?”

Neville gave Harry a quick look that made it clear he didn’t tell Graces and had no plans to tell her either. 

“I think Graces would want to know this.”

“I know my feelings are stupid,” Neville said bitterly, damning himself for being so ridiculous to have them in the first place. “I’m not going to worry Graces over something stupid.”

“I don’t think she will think—”

“Let's sit here for a few moments and think about what Graces has gone through in this past year, or even what you have had to go through and I am sitting here telling you I get anxious when she isn’t around,” Neville scoffed. “It’s bloody pathetic.”

“I think it’s fair to say you’ve gone through your own fair amount of shit too,” Harry pointed out.

Neville shook his head and tried not to go through the checklist of tragedy that Graces had been subjected to this year. It was no wonder she was so unhinged, he however, he couldn’t be. He needed to be strong for the both of them, he couldn’t get all out of sorts over stupid things. His mind drifted back to Graces leaving the castle again and he tried to suppress his worry over her being so far. He reminded himself again that John and Alethea were the defenceless ones in this situation. Graces and McGonagall were both powerful and capable of protecting themselves.

“Neville,” Harry murmured quietly. “How about you and I go to the kitchens, get something to eat from the house elves, and then come back and play a game of exploding snap or chess.”

Neville paused for a few seconds before asking Harry how he knew where the kitchens were.

“I’ll tell you on the way,” Harry smirked. “Come on.”

Neville’s first inclination was to decline, but then he realized he had nothing else to do anyways. All he was going to do was sit on his bed and fret over Graces and read. He looked up at Harry and nodded unsurely. He didn’t know if he liked this. Harry knowing so much regarding him, but as they left the common room he realized he did like feeling as though he had a friend again. 

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

“Ollie, want to try your pusher? Here, look. Look.” John tried in vain to get Octavian to try the baby walker he and Alethea had got him. It wasn’t too early to use it, it just seemed that Octavian preferred to use the couch and the couch alone to stand and take very shaky attempts at steps. “Oi, look at this, Ollie. Look. Look.” He made a gasping sound. “Do you see how it lights up? You want to try?”

Ollie made a squeal of delight and continued on with holding the couch and slobbering all over the upholstery. John sighed and realized he had his answer to what Octavian wanted and it was what looked to be an exceptionally expensive couch that was in the manor. He leaned against the sofa and once again missed his own home. It was strange living in a mansion, he had never really thought he would be spending his nights in an estate like this, much less living in one. 

Even when he went on holiday with Alethea they had never stayed in such posh places. They had holidayed in cozy bed and breakfasts, a few nicer hotels, but never in his life had he even for a night called a place like this home. Even now it didn’t feel like a home. It was large and empty. From what he could tell there had been life in it once. He looked about at the photos upon photos placed delicately on mantles, end tables, and all other areas of display, all happy faces bunched together like bouquets to capture a moment that was now long gone. 

Whatever warmth that was in this house once was now cold like the bodies that had lived in it. He didn’t want to be here and he didn’t want Thomas here. No, it would be better for them all to be away. And he really believed that Thomas would be happy in his home. He and Alethea didn’t live lavishly, but they lived much more than comfortably. Thomas would have his own room, as would Octavian, and they would be far away from the expectations that this world imposed on such young boys. They could be children in his and Alethea’s house, free to act and feel as children should. 

And Thomas could walk away from the guilt he carried of not being what this world expected him to be, of not shouldering the burdens imposed on him, of not wanting fatherhood. John sighed heavily at that thought. Thomas was a sweet boy, a sharp boy too. At first it had disturbed him slightly, being around a child that would quietly observe him from a distance, but in time he had realized that as stoic as Thomas could be, it didn’t take much more than a small amount of his trust to get to his real temperament. 

Thomas was an easy child to fall in love with when he allowed himself to be a child. He enjoyed games, walks around the estate, and had a curious mind. They seemed to always be exchanging books when he came home for the weekends. Thomas enjoyed his “muggle literature” as he called it and he was quite happy with the collection Thomas brought him. Sometimes it was on Goblin or Elf history, Thomas had laughed himself silly when he had read some of John’s fantasy books. Other times it was potion books or other things he was studying, not that John could ever accomplish what Thomas could, but he had made it clear that he would like to know what it was Thomas was studying. He thought it best so that he could ask more appropriate questions about his day. 

But as much as he was in awe of this world, it didn’t feel like home. Not just because of the large estate and the magic, he thought he could get used to all that, but because Alethea was miserable here. She didn’t rejoice in Thomas’ school accomplishments the way he did, she just smiled and nodded tightly, still so bitter about what she thought she lacked. He did understand it. There were times when he was frustrated with her for not just accepting that this was what it was and she should just move on, but at the same time he understood her. This world was a prison for her and after much talking he realized that maybe the best thing to do was move everyone to their world, to their home.

Alethea could be happy at home where she was successful and highly respected. He had always admired Alethea’s drive. It was one of the things that had made him fall so desperately in love with her, but now he saw it for what it really was. It was a fierce determination to prove herself. She had always needed to be the best, her career was a testament to the hours of dedication she put towards that goal, but now here he saw that all those hours, all those accomplishments were nothing. He didn’t think Alethea would ever accept herself, not in the way that was healthy. She would always feel less in comparison to witches. And here Thomas would always carry the guilt of not wanting to be a father. He would always walk through the doors and stare at this little soul and never feel like it was his and then hate himself for it.

But it didn’t need to be that way. John nodded in determination, picking up Octavian and deciding that it was time to tuck him away to bed. He went through the nightly routine, not bothering to get Alethea who he had a feeling desperately needed a few hours without the baby. A house elf came and aided him, fussing over how she could do it all and was not needed. Sometimes John had a feeling the elves didn’t want him touching Octavian at all, like he was tainting the child by loving and caring for him. They had made it quite clear they felt he tainted the house. Yes, leaving would be a wonderful thing for him too.

He was just walking towards one of the libraries when he heard the loud thump of someone portkeying into the entryway. 

“Thomas?” He called, hurrying towards the sound and wondering as to why Thomas would be here on a weeknight. “Thomas? Is everything okay?”

He halted as he stepped into the room. It was a girl, a young girl holding a cat. She stood standing in front of him, staring at him as though she were evaluating something under his skin. She had a presence about her that made even the grandeur of the room seem small. He took a step back as those gray eyes pierced through him.

“Good evening,” she greeted, her voice carrying into the quietness. 

“Good evening,” he repeated, blinking a few times and trying to figure out who this girl must be and why she was here in this house. “Are—are you a friend of Thomas? He isn’t here presently, he’s at school.”

“Yes, I know,” the girl nodded, gently putting the cat down on the floor beside her as she began taking off her cloak. A house elf appeared just as she placed her hand out, as though it was not a question of if someone would come to attend to her. She made no motion of thanks to the creature either, just looked about the hall for a moment as though she were expecting someone. John took a step forward and the girl stilled. Her eyes went back to him and for a moment he thought he saw a flash of fear in her features, but as quickly as it had come it was now gone. 

She looked him over though and there was something in her expression that was more akin to uncertainty. He offered her a nervous smile, but she couldn’t seem to muster one to return. She looked away for a moment, before turning back to him.

“My name is Graces. Graces Malfoy.”

“Graces!” John grinned, enthusiastically waving at the girl to come more in. “Thomas has told me all about you. Come in, come in.”

She nodded, coming forward out of the grand entryway and towards the sitting room that was littered with all assortments of Octavian’s toys. She frowned slightly at the mess and with a single snap of her finger summoned a house elf. She took a seat as the elf bustled about and continued to survey the room. John wasn’t sure how to react. He looked over at the distraught house elf and back to Graces. 

“Octavian was just in here, we were playing. Children tend to be a bit messy,” he explained, frowning at himself for even offering the explanation. For even being embarrassed. 

“Of course,” Graces nodded. “I do not blame you or him for the mess. I will make sure the elves are more diligent in the future. This isn’t acceptable at all.” She frowned slightly. “Did any of them come and notify you of my arrival even?”

“Uh, no,” John admitted, watching as the house elf's eyes widened slightly. He was about to mention that the elfs didn’t really speak to him at all, but realized that may get the poor creatures in even more trouble. “I, erm, don’t see any reason for you to involve yourself though. Frankly, it’s—”

“I am the acting matriarch of this family until Thomas turns sixteen,” Graces stated patiently, trying to push off her cat as it jumped on her as she spoke. She scowled at the animal as though confused by its behavior, but looked back up at him after a moment. 

John scowled. “Isn’t Alethea—”

“No.” 

John bit his cheek before asking if the reason she wasn’t was because she wasn’t a witch.

Graces looked down at her hands for a moment before nodding simply. 

“Right,” John whispered. “Well, the house is in order. Maybe not to your standards, but we’re a bit more casual.”

The blonde blinked in surprise. “Did I offend you? I didn’t mean to offend.”

She stared up at him from that sofa with her wide gray eyes and aghast expression and he believed her. He shook his head and reminded himself that he didn’t know much about this world or about the people in it other than Thomas. He watched as Graces’ mouth twisted and she seemed to be trying to find words. 

“Sorry, I just—” He sighed. “How about some tea, huh? Tea, and I bet I can find a tin of biscuits. And you can tell me why you’re here once we have something warm in our hand.”

Graces smiled tightly at the suggestion and then asked where Alethea was.

“She’s in one of the libraries, I’ll go fetch her.”

“Perhaps we could talk alone for a bit. Please,” she added, waiting for his answer on bated breath. 

John didn’t understand why this girl wanted to speak to him privately, but he agreed. He left for the kitchens and returned with a pot and three cups, for when Alethea did arrive, and a saucer of cream for that cat. He set the tray down on the table in the middle and picked the cat up from the floor offering her a bit of meat from dinner that night.

Graces stared up in horror. “She—she doesn’t like strangers,” Graces stammered. “She—”

“Never met a cat I couldn’t charm,” John laughed, sitting down and continuing to try and coax the cat to take a bite of the treat. It fought to get away, but he repositioned his hold dragging his hand down it’s spine. Graces fingers pressed firmly on her mouth, her horror seemed to be fading slightly to amusement. All amusement was gone though when the cat viciously swiped at him as he tried to scratch the lower back by the tail. 

The cat ran and perched on the sofa’s arm nearest to Graces and the young girl stared up as though expecting a scolding. When none came she refocused her attention back to him, darting a quick glance at the cat before continuing. 

“She’s a very particular cat,” she said in way of apology. John waived his hand dismissively and set the cream near the cat and handed Graces the tea and saucer. The blonde took a polite sip before setting the tea down.

“Mr—” She paused and fiddled with a ring on her finger, as she bit her lip nervously. “I’m so sorry I don’t know your last name. Thomas just calls you John and—”

“John is fine.”

Graces glanced about slightly. “I don’t think that’s appropriate,” she finally said. “I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

John laughed. “Witches and Wizards are quite formal I’m finding out.”

Graces smiled tightly at that. “We are.”

“Why is that?”

The blonde frowned slightly and seemed to consider the question. “It’s complicated. I think there is quite a division in our world. Erm, pureblood culture is more formal, I think to distinguish ourselves from the  _ others _ . Also, to hold on to our ways. I think sometimes it also is this—I don’t know—it’s a way to make things easy? We know the rules for every situation and how to respond appropriately. It’s also just a way to show respect.”

John leaned back on the sofa opposite of Graces and considered what she said. There was quite a lot that he understood but a few things he didn’t. “Pureblood culture?”

Graces blinked, her gray eyes turning darker with a mixture of pity and worry. “How much has Alethea told you about our world? More specifically how you would be treated in it? Or better yet what would happen if you were found here?”

“Found here?” John laughed. “You say that as though I should be hiding.”

The humor in his words faded as he stared at the girl in front of him. Her expression let him know in that moment that not only should he be hiding, but that his being here was dangerous.

“Did she tell you how her family died?”

John sat up and placed his tea down, leaning forward slightly. “Not really. I mean, she said they had been killed, but didn’t offer much detail into that. I have a feeling you’re going to tell me a bit more.”

“And you didn’t ask for more detail? That many people died and you didn’t want to know more?”

John blinked. “H-how many died?”

“Too many,” Graces whispered, her silver eyes unwavering. “Have you ever seen how many blooms there are on a cherry blossom? That many.”

John tried to comprehend that number. He searched his head for a way to make that information make sense. Surely this was an exaggeration. He thought of his own family tree and—

“The Higgs are purists. Exceptionally strict in many ways. One of which is birth control,” Graces stated as though reading his mind. “They don’t use it, at all. Or any other methods of restricting birth. Has Alethea never told you how many siblings she has alone? Witches and wizards also live longer, so her family is— _ was— _ quite large. The Higgs were one of the vastest magical dynasties in the world, spanning every content. Their influence in our world was exceptionally grand. Their political power is what kept most families’ ability to be neutral in the last war without repercussion.” 

John shook his head. “Alethea doesn’t—” He took a deep breath and tried to wrap his head around all this. “She doesn’t talk about her family. And Thomas—”

“It’s very painful for Thomas,” Graces whispered. “He didn’t even accept what happened at first and there was a period before the funeral, even a bit after where he seemed… hollow.”

“Sometimes he’s still that way,” John murmured. There were so many things that Graces had said so casually that he was just lost over: war, neutral, longer lifespans, magical dynasties. He was ignorant, ignorant of a world that had been beside him his whole life. Ignorant of a world he was living in now. Ignorant of what the children he was helping to raise were going through. 

“John.” John turned at the sound of Alethea’s voice. “John, get away from her.”

The older man scowled at the fear he heard in her voice. He looked over at Graces and found the girl’s disposition changed completely. There was nothing soft about the girl sitting across from him. There was nothing girlish at all about the girl any longer. And now that he looked he wondered if there ever was to begin with. 

“Are you going to tell him why now?” Graces asked, her words falling like snow. 

“John,” Alethea whispered, moving closer to him.

Graces shook her head. “What exactly could you do at this point? I am here.”

“Please,” Alethea whispered her attention now solely on Graces.

“Tell him,” Graces said simply. 

“Tell me what?” John demanded, looking between them. 

“Do you know why she’s frightened of me?” Graces asked, standing up and pressing her dress outward as though to smooth some wrinkles. “Because I am Graces Malfoy and if she was honest about this world and the dangers that lurk here for you, you would have known the moment I said my name earlier in the entryway that I am dangerous.”

Graces looked back at Alethea. “You brought a lamb into our world and never explained to look out for the wolves.” 

John stood and moved to Alethea. He tried to comfort her, but she never moved her tear filled eyes from the gray ones glaring back at her. Graces took a step forward and he was surprised at the jolt of fear that hit him.

She smirked. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she promised, rescinding her step. “Either of you. My father would have. He would have killed you the moment he saw you. Well, maybe not the moment of,” she whispered. “No, he likes to torture people before he kills them.”

John, despite Graces’ promise, found himself moving Alethea more behind him at her words. Graces noted the movement and that look of pity came and replaced the one of rage.

“John, what do you think you could do?” she asked. “It’s comical how easy it would be for me to kill you. Actually, killing you would be the kinder of things I could do to you.”

The cat hissed at it’s owner, as though sensing that what she said was cruel, but Graces ignored it.

“In one spell I could control you. I could make you kill Alethea, then have you go up to Octavian’s room and kill him with your bare hands. The newspapers would have a field day with the story, it would be used as propaganda to get more and more witches and wizards to join the Dark Lord. Muggle man kills squib and heir to the Higgs line.” Graces placed her hands out as though displaying the headline. 

She lowered her hands slowly and he did his best to not look as horrified as he felt. He tried to think of what he could do, what he could grab as a weapon. His eyes wandered to the fireside and he considered if he could move quickly enough to the tools to grab the cast iron poker or perhaps the—

Graces’ cat was now standing between him and the fireside. Looking up at him warningly as if it knew what he was thinking. He looked hesitantly at Graces who was as calm as ever. She seemed amused at the idea of him trying to fight back. He tensed and thought of what to do and a low growl came from the cat, reminding him of the other set of eyes watching.

“John,” Alethea breathed. “That is not a cat.”

He was going to ask what else it could be, but he stopped himself. He knew that answer. It was a person, another witch. 

“Calm down,” Graces sighed tiredly. “Like I said, I am not going to hurt you.”

“I am not my father,” she whispered, as though to remind herself just as much as to ensure him. “You’re really lucky that it is me standing before you.”

“Get out,” John ordered. 

“No,” Graces declared, her body rigid as she stood firmly where she stood. 

“No I have given too much of myself to ensure that this family lives,” Graces spat savagely. 

“Planning a funeral and decorating a nursery is hardly what I would call a sacrifice,” Alethea sneered.

“Is that all you think I did?” Graces asked dangerously. 

“I died for you,” Graces whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You were not to live.”

“I went to the Dark Lord and I begged for your lives. I _ paid _ for your lives!” she roared. 

“I was tortured for hours! Hours!” Graces screamed, pulling at her clothes as if they were on fire. “I was beaten until my bones cracked, my organs bled and I welcomed an end. Any end!” John took a step back as a series of scars riddling her abdomen and side came to view after she slammed her shift to the ground. 

“And then, after, I suffered for days. Because  _ a point was to be made,”  _ she sneered, her teeth bared against some figure they couldn’t see. She crossed the room so she was toe to toe with Alethea. “I paid the price for your lives. The least you could do is not be stupid enough to throw it away. Especially when it's not just your life you’re gambling with. It’s all of ours! Mine included!”

Graces shoved something into the other woman’s hand and John stared in horror as he realized it was an eye. A glass eye, her eye. She turned to him and he tried not to look at the hollow void of flesh.

“You seem like a nice man, like a good man,” Graces murmured. “But you need to understand what this world is and the danger you put Thomas, Octavian, Alethea and I in by being here.” 

Graces looked past him to stare at Alethea. “And you’re going to tell him.”

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

There was a lot of yelling. Graces sat cradling her cup of tea as John and Alethea continued to yell at one another. McGonagall had moved closer to her and she knew that her professor was watching her, but she refused to acknowledge her. Instead she listened to Alethea fumbling to explain herself and John’s righteous anger. 

“You should have told me. How could you not tell me!”

Graces flinched as John’s words rang in her as Neville’s had. As Alethea’s next words of how ‘she couldn’t’ felt so real to her own feelings.

“Alethea,” John said firmly, trying and failing to regain his composure. “This is not just you and I. There are three children here. You are asking me to risk three innocent lives, for what? So we can be under the same roof?”

Graces looked up at the Alethea wondering how she was going to explain that, how she herself could explain that. She was doing the same thing. Her relationship with Neville put everyone in danger. She wondered if Neville understood that. She wondered if she would have to answer this same question.

“I cannot do this on my own,” Alethea begged. Graces stared back down at her tea, it was surprisingly hard to watch two grown adults cry like this, to watch them lose themselves to emotion when she was so used to the adults being the composed ones. “I cannot raise two boys alone. Two wizard boys at that and at my age. I can’t! I can’t live in this damn world without anyone, without—”

John apparently believed she could. He listed out all her accomplishments that Graces wasn’t aware of and didn’t quite understand. He begged her to see reason, suggested hiring more help, but he didn’t seem to understand it was the loneliness and isolation that Alethea couldn’t handle. And Alethea didn’t seem able to describe that, not in a way that John understood. 

“Thomas and Octavian need you. You—”

“I need you! You cannot leave me! I’ll die, John. I’ll rot away from the inside out. I can’t.”

“You can do this,” John swore. “I know you can. I’m not saying you won’t need help, I’m j—”

“Don’t you see,” Alethea scoffed. “I am the help. Thomas will be rid of me as soon as he comes of age. I am nothing more than a paperweight holding down a file until he is ready for it. I am disposable. I have always been disposable. And I cannot bear the isolation of living in this world alone, John. I can’t.”

“That’s not true,” John shook his head. “Thomas—”

“You think you know Thomas?” Alethea laughed. “Oh, you two have gone on some walks, you taught him to fish, camped a little and you think you know that boy? That boy is a wizard, John. He doesn’t even want you here or he wouldn’t have sent that girl,” Alethea cried, gesturing to where Graces sat.

John shook his head, unwilling to hear what she was saying.

“Thomas is forbidding us from marrying,” Alethea reminded. “He doesn’t want you in this family. Maybe he has decided that you are nice, but you’re a muggle and I’m a squib and when he can be free of us he will be. And he will forget us and live his life.”

“Jesus, Alethea. You can’t truly be this selfish. They’re boys and we are adults. I knew you weren’t warm to the boys, but I never thought you would risk their lives like this. Maybe you’re right, but that doesn’t change the fact that we are the ones supposed to be protecting them. And it doesn’t seem like we really have much ability to do that, but we can do this.”

“So that’s it, you’re leaving me? All these years of—”

“I am not leaving you!” John pleaded. “We’ll just be apart.”

“Same thing,” the older woman dismissed, crossing her arms and turning away from him.

“Alethea, I have adjusted to a lot. I have forgiven a lot,” he reminded warily. “But I am having a hard time right now trying to understand how you could do this to me, how you could not warn me about the consequences of being here, how you could put my life and children’s lives in danger. The lying just never ceases to stop. I feel like you don’t know how to even be honest.”

Alethea fell tense at his words. She looked up at him despondently. Years of regret etched into her face.

“She can’t help that,” Graces murmured, looking up from her cup and meeting John’s eyes. “She has been forced to lie all of her life. She didn’t just lie to you because she wanted to appease her family, she lied to you because our laws demand it. You don’t understand our world, and you don’t understand her either. You can never understand Alethea without knowing where she comes from. Sure, you can hear stories of her childhood, but you will never truly understand it.”

“She is disposable,” Graces said quietly, setting down her tea and standing so she was at her full height. “You think her cold for not getting close to these boys, for not trying to be their mother, but what she said is true. That was the plan. Thomas would come of age and we would be done with her. Nevermind she raised Octavian for so many years, she would leave and Thomas would raise Octavian as a wizard should be raised, with magic.”

“The idea of a squib being a mother to a patriarch and an heir is inconceivable. Nanny? Fine, but no role with actual power. I have more power over how Octavian is raised than she does,” Graces pointed out. “Even if she physically bore these boys she would be overruled by magical family members in choices for them. I can see you care greatly about Thomas and Octavian, and I believe they care greatly for you, but you could never be parents to them. It would ruin them.”

“Alethea has said there are magical children born to parents that aren’t witches or wizards,” John pointed out stubbornly. “Why is this so different?”

“Because we are a pure line. Pure meaning we are all from magical families and have not muddied our bloodlines with any blood from muggles. Thomas and Octavian are a part of pureblood society. We are more elite in this world than those children. In our circles to be raised by someone so—” Graces searched for the correct word, but couldn’t find a word around what she meant. “—inferior, they would become inferior because of it.”

John’s eyes narrowed and he turned to Alethea. “There is a _ Master Race _ in this society?” Graces frowned at the question, but Alethea nodded. “And this is just accepted here?”

“No, not—” She took a long-suffering breath. “It’s not accepted, but many families maintain it and these families have much political power. They just need someone to rally behind to make their beliefs law.”

“My family keeps the line pure, kept the line pure. I was made barren. It’s presented as a choice, laws in place now would prevent them from doing it against my will, but—but in reality it’s not a choice.”

John scowled, not seeming to understand.

Graces closed her eyes. “In my family squibs have unfortunate _ accidents _ ,” she rasped, touching the ring on her finger. “I imagine if Alethea refused to be made barren she also would have suffered an unfortunate  _ accident _ . Some families, if it’s a girl—” She continued, looking up at Alethea. “—they marry her off to a wizard to continue a line. These wizards are often undesirable for one reason or another.”

“They would have killed you?” John asked, horrified. 

“Perhaps. My family didn’t do honor killings really. They didn’t need to. They had other ways to ensure you fell in line,” Alethea said with forced simplicity. 

“How did they keep you in line?” John asked.

Alethea swallowed. “I don’t want to talk about that,” she said with finality. 

“Why?” John demanded. “Don’t I deserve to know? To be able to understand you better? Jesus, Alethea, why do you always shut me out when it comes to your family and where you come from? How is it fair that even now that I don’t get an explanation.”

“I don’t think you will understand,” she rasped tightly.

“Try me. At least give me the opportunity.”

Alethea shook her head and a few tears rounded her cheeks to her chin. “I can’t explain this to you, because I still don’t understand it. My family was warm and loving. In many ways I could tell you they were supportive and—” She looked up to the sky as though searching for the words. “—proud?” She shook her head again and bit her lip to keep back the tears that were overwhelming her. “Then there was this part of them that- that made me feel so small. That made me feel as though their love could be taken in an instant. It was like I was loved with condition.”

“And there were a million tiny interactions that made me feel that way, words spoken that sound fine, but had an underlying meaning that only someone raised in that environment could understand.”

“I was more loved for my obedience,” Alethea continued bitterly. “When I agreed to be made barren, to never marry a muggle, they celebrated. I was doing what was best for them and they rejoiced in my decision. They even threw me this grand party for getting into a muggle university, bought me a townhouse. Nevermind my decision was forced because they would not have helped me leave if I refused. The more I fell in line with their beliefs, agreed with them, the more freedom I was given, the more education I was allowed and the more help I had to live a life outside of this world.” 

Guilt wracked Graces’ body as she considered what Alethea’s life had been like, what she herself had believed before. She even felt bad for kicking Mrs Norris, who was the only one who Filch spoke with, the only one who cared about him. A cat. A bloody cat was all a grown man had, all he could ever hope to have and he watched daily as children who were loved and wanted went about their day not even knowing how lucky they were. 

“I do love the boys,” Alethea whispered. “I do. I just—for my sanity I have had to maintain a distance from my family. And I don’t know how to embrace them all of the sudden, especially Thomas.”

“Because he believes as his family does,” Graces realized aloud.

Alethea nodded and John was quick to embrace her as she began sobbing uncontrollably. He held her close and patted her head gently and Graces could tell that his heart was breaking for her, but she could also see he was still torn on what to do.

“I am so sorry, darling. I am, but—but it doesnt change the situation we are in now. We have to do what’s best for the boys. I don’t see how I can stay here with you.”

This was exactly what Graces had been hoping for. She had prayed that John would decide if all the information was laid out before him. But now, now that it was happening it all just seemed wrong. 

“I have a safehouse,” she said, before she even really considered the idea. “You all will go. You, John, and Octavian. No one will know. Thomas will still pretend that this is his home, he will still attend school and no one will even miss that you are not here. I know someone who knows someone who can get portkeys made to take you to this house. Once there you will not leave. You can’t leave.”

“I have work. I have—”

“You. Cannot. Leave,” Graces reiterated. “This is the only way I can guarantee everyone’s safety. It’s either this, or you can't be together.” 

John nodded as did Alethea. Graces was still trying to wrap her head around what she was doing. What she was saying in doing this. This was more than just keeping them safe, she was joining a side in this action. 

“What about the Abbotts?” Alethea asked, tearing Graces from her thoughts. “Octavian sees his grandparents once a week. I take him there every Monday.”

“That will end,” Graces said decisively. “Octavian is in Thomas’ custody. By law he is Octavian’s father. They can’t do anything if he decides he no longer wants them in his life.”

“They will not just accept that,” Alethea warned. 

“They’ll make a fuss, be unpleasant, but they can’t really do anything about it. Thomas and I will weather that storm. I will also make it clear that it is not indefinite, but should they continue to be unpleasant we could make it that way.”

“And Thomas will agree to all this?” Althea asked skeptically.

Graces was quiet for a moment as she considered. “You’re very wrong about how Thomas feels regarding you and John. You both mean a great deal to him. And he’s lost so much, if there is a way to keep everyone safe and allow John to stay in his and your life he will agree.”

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Harry decided that this did not count as spying. He hadn’t been able to sleep, he and Neville had spent quite a bit of time tonight together trying not to think of Graces, but it was very obvious that Neville was anxious over her. He hadn’t told Harry why, but he did mention that she was gone with McGonagall and he wished he could talk to her tonight. Neville shortly after curfew had decided to go to bed. Harry had a feeling it was to try and bring the morning hours quicker, but he knew sleep didn’t come for his friend.

He had tried to do some reading and at one point considered just going over to Neville’s bed and offering to keep him company for his sleepless night, maybe play a game of chess or some sort, but in the end he fell into old habits and pulled out his map. Again Draco didn’t seem to be anywhere in the castle, and while he knew that Neville would disapprove of him trying to keep tabs on the blonde, Harry couldn’t help it. It was during the time he was trying to find Draco that he noticed McGonagall and Graces walking towards the school.

And here he was watching the two women, but definitely not spying.

“I should have asked,” Graces murmured hollowly. “Do you think Neville will be mad? What if he—”

“I think Neville will be nothing but proud of you, Graces. Just as I am.”

Graces frowned slightly and glanced up at McGonagall. “You’re proud of me?” she asked quietly, clearly not understanding why the older woman felt such an emotion towards her.

McGonagall stopped and turned Graces around so she was facing her, then she did something Harry hadn’t expected. She pulled her close and hugged her. Harry couldn’t hear what she was saying to Graces, but he saw Graces. The blonde seemed unwilling to take whatever praise she was receiving and scrunched her face up against the emotion before crying quietly into McGonagall’s cloak.

“I gave away a house. I—”

“If I know anything about Neville it’s this, he would easily give away any possession, no matter how large, to ensure someone’s safety. And I believe he will be more in awe of you than I am now,” McGonagall added, moving back so she could properly look at Graces’ face. “I think you need to go get some sleep.”

Graces bit her lip as though she wanted to ask for something, but stopped. 

“You will see Neville tomorrow,” McGonagall said patiently, clearly reading her mind. “I think Mr. Longbottom could use some sleep.”

“Shouldn’t I tell him right away? What if—”

“A few hours will not make a difference.”

Graces took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Harry watched the way her lips moved in this and noted that it seemed like more than just an ordinary reaction, it seemed like a purposeful one, one that McGonagall seemed to approve of.

“Bed, Miss Malfoy,” McGonagall said gently. “And I expect you to eat a very hearty breakfast tomorrow morning considering you barely ate anything for dinner tonight.”

Graces nodded and began walking towards the dungeons. McGonagall watched her for a few moments before leaving towards her own chambers. Harry kept under the cloak walking a few steps behind Graces until he was sure McGonagall was out of sight. 

“Malfoy,” Harry whispered, quickly taking off the cloak and putting a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. 

Graces gasped and practically jumped out of her skin. She turned so sharply that Harry had to jump back and for a brief moment he thought he was about to be cursed as Graces’ wand rounded on him.

“Potter?” she scowled in confusion, her chest heaving heavily as she stood there gawking at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I—”

Graces nodded and turned from him. He was trying to figure out what was happening, why Graces would just walk away without anything else to say and then he realized she wasn’t walking away. Well, she was, but not to get away. She hugged the wall and he watched as she closed her eyes and continued to do the same breathing technique he had seen her do in front of McGonagall.

“Mal—Graces,” Harry murmured, he felt as though he should comfort her somehow but he also felt as though that would be the last thing Graces wanted.

Her hand shook as she brought it to her abdomen, her eyes shut tight as she frustratedly muttered things under her breath to herself. She opened her eyes with determination and Harry tactfully looked away as she pulled herself up.

“I’m sorry, I—are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Harry said again. “I was just—”

“Following me in a dark hall in the middle of the night, then jumping literally out of nowhere. I don’t even know how you did it,” Graces said, sounding disturbed at the thought. 

Harry held up his cloak in response, which Graces’ didn’t understand at first, until he pushed it forward for her to examine for herself.

“Should have remembered you had this,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Draco mentioned it after he broke your nose. I’m getting this damn eye charmed. If I’m stuck with it it might as well have some more use.”

“Charmed? Like Mad Eye—I mean, erm—”

Graces definitely was peeved by his comment, but she didn’t lash out at him. “No, not so many charms. One charm will still allow me control of the eye. I’ll have to work on it, but just for a month or so. Maybe less.” 

Harry nodded and the two of them slipped into a heavy silence. Harry was trying to figure out what to say, if he should ask about why she was so jumpy. If there wasn’t a real reason and if it was just because of past things like Nott. If Neville knew. If it was the reason for what happened in Herbology. He also had questions about why she was out so late and why she was worried Neville would be cross. 

“Is there a reason you’re here, Potter?” Graces asked tiredly.

“Oh, I, erm, I was just—” Harry sighed, and decided being straightforward would be best. “I noticed you and McGonagall walking towards Hogwarts on my map, I’m sure you remember about my map,” he said flatly, going a bit red. “And, well, Neville seemed really upset tonight, on edge and all. We hung out tonight, talked a good bit, but I know that he missed you, and that he’s not sleeping well… if at all. I don’t think he’s slept a wink tonight, I can hear him tossing and turning in his bed, so I thought maybe I could sneak you into our room. Lend you my cloak and you could be with Neville. If you two close the bed curtains and did a silencing charm then—”

“What the bloody hell do you think of me, Potter?” Graces scoffed, her brows turned up in complete bewilderment. “Neville and I would never in a million years—in a room with four other boys no less.”   
  


“No! No, I didn’t think you would,” Harry stumbled out, wide eyed. “No, I-I just know he’s worried and I thought he would sleep better if he saw you and if-if you could be with him. I didn’t mean anything like that. I didn’t think you would—”

Graces closed her eyes in exasperation and stopped him from continuing on. “Potter,” she sighed. “That—I appreciate that you want to be _ supportive _ , but trust me Neville will not be pleased if I showed up in the Gryffindor dorm, let alone if you snuck me into his bed.” She must have noticed the confusion on his face because she sighed and added. “It’s not safe.”

“The cloak would make it safe,” Harry pointed out, holding it up for display. “You could even use it as—”

“You’re trying,” Graces broke in, her voice a mixture of shocked awe and surprise. Guilt coiled in Harry’s belly as he looked at Graces face. She hadn’t really expected him to make an effort when it came to Neville. She knew he knew and had clearly only expected his silence and some awkward conversation once in a while.

Harry shrugged. “I want to be a better friend.”

Graces smiled slightly at that. “I’m very glad to hear that, but I think I’ll just be going to bed.”

Harry nodded, realizing she was right and the whole idea really was stupid. He started for the Gryffindor common room but Graces called out to him. She flushed and looked about unsurely before telling him she wanted him to deliver a message. 

“Tell Neville I’m fine, all went well, perfectly safe and he can stop being such a worrywart. And... act haughty when you say it, all posh and apparently very  _ me _ ,” Graces said rolling her eyes. “Neville’s impression of me is ridiculous, but it will make him laugh if you gave him my message and did a ‘Malfoy’ impression.”

Harry let out a small huff of a laugh. He was going to point out to Graces that she and Draco were such over dramatic pissers when they wanted to tease him across the Great Hall that it was an accurate impression, but Graces continued on.

“And... and tell him I love him, very much so,” she added, her voice strong despite how uncomfortable she looked. 

“I may tease him with the last message,” Harry laughed. 

“As you should,” Graces nodded. “Neville’s a sap though, he will enjoy hearing it even if you tease him mercilessly after.” 

It was very easy to see in these moments why and how Neville fell so hopelessly in love with the girl before him. Harry wondered how many moments like this it took for Neville to decide it was worth the effort to try and gain Graces’ heart. He couldn’t see it as much of an easy task. He imagined Graces was more vicious and cruel in the beginning than she was funny and kind. He looked at Neville and it was easy to see how she fell in love with him. Now that he was looking Neville had so many good qualities that he never really appreciated. Even after the Ministry he didn’t notice his other qualities, he noticed he was brave and loyal, but now he saw all the other ones. 

“Night, Scarhead,” Graces dismissed, turning and raising her hand in what could barely be called a wave. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am considering commissioning some fanart. Denarii has also mentioned chipping in for it for my birthday gift. Unfortunately, Jbadgr (who made the art you see on my display) no longer is doing art :/ I am unsure as to what to do though. I would love to hear from all of you what you would like to see. Right now I am leaning to doing the scene where Graces took Neville stargazing, but feel free to give me suggestions on your favorite scenes :) Nothing explicit though. Also, if you have suggestions of HP fanartist too that would be great. I think I know who I would commission, but I have not decided for sure. I am kind of new to this part of the fandom.
> 
> Also, don't forget to drop me a kudo if you haven't yet :D Help me grow on this site etc.


	105. Chapter 105

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am loving this art by Avendell ! If you are a new reader, then you probably saw it already in chapter 58, since I posted it there as well. But old readers I am posting it here for you since you are long past that chapter :D Please comment and Kudo what you think!

Neville was hunched over a book and writing down a series of notes when Graces arrived in the greenhouse. She nervously played with the muffin she had grabbed him when she noticed he skipped breakfast. A house. She gave away his house and didn’t even talk to him about it. She also wanted him to use his connections to get all those portkeys made. She didn’t even know if he could do that for her. 

“Hey.”

Neville, who had been so absorbed in whatever he was doing, blinked up at her and then grinned. “Hey,” he echoed, smiling up at her still.

“I brought you a muffin,” she murmured sheepishly, setting the pastry down on the desk between them. “I didn’t see you at breakfast.”

“McGonagall snagged me this morning, we had an early breakfast in her chambers.”

Graces eyes widened as she felt her stomach drop to her shoes. “So you know about the house then,” she said slowly.

Neville nodded.

“I-I obviously am going to pay you for it,” Graces sputtered. 

“Graces, there’s no need. I—”

“No. I am.”

“Are you?” Neville asked, his brows raising slightly as he crossed his arms.

“Yes, of course,” Graces nodded, taking a piece of paper from Neville’s pile and the quill he was using. She bit her lip and decided to offer a bit more than what was appropriate and turned the piece of parchment around for Neville to inspect. Neville looked pensively down at the number, before taking his quill back and crossing the number out. Graces frowned as Neville began to write a counter offer on the parchment, but used his other arm to prevent her from seeing what it was he was writing.

When Neville was finished he turned the paper back over to her. Graces nervously looked down at the paper and flushed at what Neville had written there. 

“Neville!” Graces exclaimed, taking the parchment and crumbling it up as if someone else was around to see. Neville just laughed as she incinerated the paper mid air and shook her head at him. “You’re such a perv,” Graces scoffed, causing Neville’s grin to widen. 

“Now, now, Malfoy, I didn’t ask for anything that we haven't already done and that you did not enjoy.”

Graces cheeks pinkened more at that, but she brushed off her embarrassment and demanded Neville be serious.

Neville shifted, as if this discussion wasn’t necessary and just making him uncomfortable. “The house is still mine, I will remain the secret keeper and all that is happening is that it’s occupied. This is not at all an imposition. I am more than happy to do this. I also already had given it to you and yours to use for this purpose.”

“You gave it to me and I gave it to—”

“It was always the plan for Thomas and his family to be there with you. All that has changed is John will be there and you will not.”

Graces nodded and toyed with the edge of Neville’s textbook. 

“You should probably take your seat, Malfoy, before people start coming in,” Neville pointed out. Graces looked up and smiled slightly to herself as she saw the pure glee in his eyes. Despite his words Neville was exceptionally happy she was standing there talking to him. 

“We have quite some time,” she said simply, moving her hands from the book and meeting his eyes steadily.

“I need you to consider the risk this will impose on your family, Neville, on your family and you.”

Neville pressed his lips together tightly and nodded. He sat up and for a moment seemed to really be considering what Graces was saying before leaning over the desk towards her.

“I understand,” he swore quietly. “The house is still yours, I will remain the owner and the secret keeper.”

“You don’t have to do all that.”

“It is more prudent to do it this way,” Neville pointed out. “It’s my house. I will keep the responsibility that comes with it.”

“Being a secret keeper is dangerous, Neville, and—”

“And no one would ever expect me to be the Higgs’ secret keeper. They disappear and no one would ever even look my way to think I may be the one hiding them. Whereas you and Draco will definitely be looked at.”

Graces couldn’t argue with any of that, so she nodded in agreement. She hovered at the desk knowing it was time to leave, but not being ready to just yet. 

“I will have the keys to you by lunch,” Neville promised. “Go sit down, Malfoy.”

“Okay,” Graces sighed. “I am going to find a way to thank you, Neville.”

She left before Neville could do something silly like tell her there wasn’t a need. She sat down at her desk in the quiet room and once again hated that she couldn’t just spend time with Neville. No one was even in the room yet and they were forced to play this odd charade. 

“Hey.” Graces jumped as Neville approached her desk and set a folded up piece of parchment down before stating “My real demands” and returning to his seat.

Graces hesitated and then gently unfolded the parchment. 

A picture of you. Doesn’t have to be now, but I would like one to have for over the summer. I’ll be careful with it, I promise.

She damned the tightness in her throat and the fluttering in her chest. She wanted to write back something stupid and sappy like ‘after I tell Draco we’ll find Creevy and take a picture together’ instead she stood and made her way back over to Neville where she kissed him firmly. Neville pulled away shaking his head.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Malfoy.”

“Plenty of time before class. Who comes to Herbology this early?” Graces grinned, her hands resting on his shoulders.

As though the gods themselves wanted to put her in place Hermione Granger entered the room. Graces moved to step back, but to her surprise Neville’s hands remained firmly on her hips. So she remained, turning away from Hermione as though it was fine the other girl was seeing this. She was uncomfortable, but if she learned anything from her father it was to present a united front. Hermione knew about them and Neville’s face told her enough. For some reason or another he wanted to rub this in Hermione’s face.

She dipped down to Neville’s ear. “Did you know that you’re quite sexy when you’re mad.”

The corner of Neville’s lip twitched and his attention returned to her. “You should go sit down, we’ll talk later.”

Graces nodded and went back to her desk. Hermione pointedly did not acknowledge her presence and Graces was a bit relieved at that. She knew Hermione had seen more than just what she walked in on now, but she couldn’t help but still feel uncomfortable that she had seen. She frowned slightly. Neville wanted them to be more careful; it was interesting that when Hermione walked in he threw that caution away. She would have expected him to be careful regardless of Hermione knowing. 

I underestimated how angry he is with her, she thought, looking over briefly at the girl. She considered what that anger meant. Neville had disclosed once that he had fancied Hermione, so on some level he must care for her quite deeply. The more Graces thought of that the more she realized how Hermione had been up until this year one of his close friends. She even partnered with him consistently in potions.She wondered if Neville missed the friendship then she wondered if she would even be comfortable with his friendship with Hermione. 

She pushed those jealous feelings to the side and decided to focus on setting up the desk. Sprout arrived a few moments later and Graces was relieved when she stopped next to her and Hermione to ask a few questions regarding how their project was doing. Hermione seemed, for once, exceptionally disinterested in what a professor was saying and Graces wondered if she was retaining anything of what Sprout was telling her. Apparently there were some books she thought they would like to read and she also thought that the practical aspect of their project could be expanded if they were feeling a bit adventurous. 

Graces for one was not at all feeling like making this project more time consuming and she was relieved to hear Hermione delicately mention she was quite busy with other classes to put the time and effort into such complicated work. 

“Also, I don’t think Malfoy is up to the challenge,” Hermione added with false disappointment. 

Graces blinked at the insult, before turning to glare at the girl next to her. 

“I think Graces is a bit more capable now, she’s done quite well this year,” Sprout complimented, giving Graces a kind smile.

“Thank you, Professor Sprout,” Graces said tightly, reminding herself that two fights with Hermione Granger would not do well for her.

The older woman smiled and gave her a wink before walking up to the front of the class to get ready for the rest of the students' arrival. Graces chanced a glance at Neville, wondering if he had heard the conversation and saw that he most certainly had. His back was stiff and Graces wondered at the effort it was taking him to not turn around and say something. She realized that Neville may have goaded Hermione in the beginning, but Hermione seemed to know how to press his buttons as well.

Class was tense from then on. Graces far preferred the sitting in tense silence over having to work on their project together. She kept praying that Sprout would take longer in lecture, or that someone would ask more questions on the subject, but, alas, none of that happened. She inwardly sighed as she and Hermione stood to leave the greenhouse to work on their project. Graces had been avoiding asking for help, but today she had a feeling she would need to ask Hermione. Her plants were not flourishing, Neville had even given her some tips, but alas they didn’t thrive.

“Are you ready to take these to the forest?” Graces asked, hoping that once they implanted them there to grow they would do better.

Hermione nodded and the two of them set forth to find a good area. Hermione had not planned to plant the ferns in the forbidden forest, but Graces had insisted it be done. Fern flowers were rare. They would only bloom at midnight on the solstice, and only if magic allowed. When they started this project, Abbott and Granger were very into the plant biology of allowing them to thrive, but seemed to turn their nose up at the ritual aspects.

“This area looks good,” Hermione noted.

Graces shook her head. “No, we must go farther.” 

“How far do you want to go?” Hermione demanded.

“They should be so far as to never hear children playing, a dog bark, or a rooster crow,” Graces recited, climbing over a fallen tree trunk.

“And so far that no one could hear me scream,” Hermione pointed out, causing Graces to turn abruptly.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Hermione said evenly. 

They stared at one another for quite sometime before Graces pulled out her wand and tossed it to the other girl. Hermione stared at the piece of wood and Graces was a bit proud to see how utterly surprised the Gryffindor was.

“There. Now let’s go.”

Hermione tucked her wand into her cloak and followed a few paces behind. Graces made sure to keep her movements casual, lest the other girl realize how nervous she was to be in the forest unarmed.

“Going this far into the forest is dangerous,” Hermione hissed, moving closer to Graces as they lost sight of Hogwarts.

“We are two very capable witches.”

“You don’t have a wand!”

Graces rolled her eyes. “If something comes out I trust you to give it back.”

“There are many magical creatures living in this forest, all of which would not be happy to find us here.”

“All of which are active at night.” 

Hermione brooded silently for the rest of the walk. Graces listened to forest, the birds chirping, the leaves rustling and twigs breaking with her steps, until suddenly she heard the forest no more. She stood in a clearing waiting to see if the silence broke, but it remained. Her heart steadily beat in her chest and the hairs on the back of her neck raised. She looked over at Hermione and saw the bushy haired girl staring about in all directions as though expecting something to jump out.

“Here,” Graces decided.

“I think we should go,” Hermione whispered.

“No, we’re fine,” Graces promised. “This place, it’s touched. That’s what you’re feeling. Whatever magic was here once, is just buried into the land. The plants will feel what you’re feeling and a fern flower will come.”

“The whole of Hogwarts is magical, this whole forest is magical. We-”

“Not like this,” Graces said quietly, bending down on both knees slowly to begin. “This is different, it’s... it’s holy in a way.”

Hermione scowled and Graces knew that the other girl thought her ridiculous. She fought back the urge to say something about her heritage, how her kind was ignorant to what was and was not sacred in their world. By the time Hermione bent down to help her Graces had already dug out a good portion of land. 

As they worked Graces noted Hermione was moving closer and closer to her as the unsettling feeling grew the longer they stayed. Graces almost teased the Gryffindor for it, but held her tongue. She too felt uneasy and Hermione being close gave her the same comfort. It was said that evil spirits were attracted to fern flowers, that they stayed close to the plant waiting for blooms. Graces had put that in her notes for the paper, she knew Hermione had read it, but she had a feeling the other girl didn’t believe it. Even now she could see Hermione telling herself she was just being silly, that her nervousness was from the creatures in the forest or being alone with Graces.

She chanced a glance at the other girl, and pressed her lips together to keep her amusement from showing, but Hermione definitely saw. The other girl pinked and that Gryffindor fire seemed to be lit inside her through sheer determination. 

“There we go, Granger,” Graces grinned. “Keep that Gryffindor bravery up for the next twenty minutes and then we can book it to the castle if you need. I’ll even hold your hand as we run away,” Graces teased.

Hermione gritted her teeth and said something very unbecoming of a lady towards her. Graces just chuckled and continued on. When all the holes they needed were done Graces searched her satchel for a pair of shears.

“What are you doing?” Hermione gasped, as Graces cut her palm open.

“It’s fine, Granger,” Graces laughed. “Witches used to protect their ferns with some blood magic. Help ward off muggles and other animals from coming and picking them, eating them or destroying them. I’ll set some blood in the holes then I’ll make some runes around them and we will be guaranteed their safety.”

Hermione paled, but Graces continued on. 

“Blood magic comes with cost,” Hermione murmured. “It’s dark.”

Graces let out a sigh. “It does, but the cost for this is different. I’m not seeking revenge, harming another, or asking for protection of myself. This is different, the cost is small. Dark isn’t evil, I promise this is okay.”

“What’s the cost?”

“For this? I’ll probably get a little sick and no potion will help with the discomfort of that. It won’t be very sick, I may not even get sick at all since I suspect this place is touched. We’re fine, Granger.”

Hermione didn’t seem to like any of this, but she returned to sitting near her and even offered her a clean handkerchief she had along with her wand. Graces took both and pressed the linen into her palm. 

“Do I need to put blood in?” Hermione asked tentatively.

Graces glanced up at her. “No.”

“Because my blood is dirty?” Hermione asked disdainfully.

Graces’ eyes narrowed. “Because the sacrifice has been made and there isn’t need for more. Now let’s get these planted.”

They began planting the ferns into the holes. They had to do some adjusting. Some of the roots needed larger holes, but both girls were working diligently as to not be late to returning to class.

“Neville will never be a Death Eater,” 

Graces hummed an agreement.

“He won’t,” Hermione swore savagely, as though Graces agreement wasn’t sincere. “It doesn’t matter what he does with you, and yes I know what he’s doing with you, he’s not going to change sides.”

Graces snorted. “I know you know, Granger,” Graces scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Do you honestly think Neville wouldn’t eventually tell me? As for him not changing sides I am aware of that. It’s interesting though how you seem to say one thing, but believe another.”

Hermione flushed, but remained tight lipped. Graces continued to work and in her mind considered if she should point out all the ways Hermione was ruining her friendship with Neville.

“So what are you doing? What do you want from him?” Hermione demanded eventually, clearly caught off guard with Graces earlier response. 

“I want to marry him and have all his babies,” Graces said absently, picking up a plant and examining its roots. It was doomed, she set it down and was glad Hermione was too distracted to notice she just ruined a part of their project.

“Be serious.”

“I am being serious,” Graces mumbled, pressing the roots deep into the hole and trying to coat it with as much of her blood as she could. Maybe her blood and the sacredness of this land could amend her mistakes.

“Question, Granger. You and Neville are close, I mean you were close,” Graces amended. “Do you think he would agree to naming a boy Lucius? Like obviously not the first son, but any to follow?”

“You’re sick,” Hermione whispered.

Graces sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Too dark. Shame, I always wanted to name one of my sons after my father.” Graces thought for a moment. “Neville is quite forgiving though, obviously not towards you, but usually. He could forgive for my sake I think.”

Hermione’s mouth twisted with words she was refusing to say, too smart to take the bait and she went back to their project, her small shovel digging angrily into the soil as she seethed openly. A part of Graces was happy to see Hermione so angry, this girl had violated her privacy and Neville’s, but she slowly also remembered that this girl was one of Neville’s closest friends for a long while. If Snape targeted him in class and said Trevor was to drink whatever potion he made she had whispered him instructions saving his beloved pet. Now Neville hated her and the odd thing was as much as she had just enjoyed toying with her she realized it was wrong. That their break in friendship was even wrong.

“Granger,” she frowned, sitting up on her heels. 

“What?” The other girl said sharply.

“If you ever want to be friends with Neville again, you need to trust him.”

“I trust Neville, I don’t trust you.”

“And you shouldn’t,” Graces nodded. “But Neville’s never given you a reason to not trust him. His relationship with me is private. He’s not obligated to tell you or anyone else about his private life. And, well, Neville is exceptionally private.”

Hermione was now looking at her. Her brown eyes were skeptical, but curious.

“Regardless of how you feel about me, what you think I am up to, you should know Neville enough to allow him to pursue what he wants and know that he would never compromise others for selfish reasons.”

“He thinks he loves you.”

Graces nodded slightly. “I hope he does.”

Hermione blinked at that, before she regained her bearings. “People do stupid things for love and you yourself once said love is blind.”

“It is,” Graces agreed swallowing. “But Neville’s Neville. Even if he was blind to me he wouldn’t get lost in me. He’s too anchored to this world. To what is right and good. He’s more grounded than you think. Maybe because he knows more pain and disappointment than you know of.”

She could feel Hermione’s eyes searching her, trying to figure out how much of this was sincerity or if she was simply using some sincerity to manipulate her. She didn’t seem to know and Graces decided that was progress enough.

“Just let him be,” Graces said quietly. 

“I heard you trying to get him to take the Mark,” Hermione reminded. “I heard everything, including you telling him that you could not love him if he didn’t do it.”

“If you heard all that, you also heard him say no,”Graces said evenly.

There was something admirable in Hermione’s will. The fortitude that she could maintain. Graces could see the bushy haired girls mind raising with all kinds of possibilities. The possibilities of it she was telling the truth and if she was lying. She seemed for a brief moment as though she were torn with her own logic. 

“I trust Neville,” Hermione stated firmly. “But you’re only going to hurt him. Because either you’re lying and you do want something that he will never give, or you’re telling the truth and lying to yourself.”

Graces suddenly felt small. Her gray eyes stared into Hermione’s brown and she knew what the other girl was thinking. That she would be too cowardly to do what needed to be done to be with Neville and he would be devastated. The worst part of it all was it was a real fear that Graces pushed away daily. Telling Draco, the fall out that would come and ever since telling McGonagall she had been trying to gain the courage to do it and failing. Once again she felt as though she were stabbed in these woods and bleeding out.

“I think we should go,” she said tightly, standing up and brushing the earth from her hands. Looking away from Hermione so she wouldn’t see how much those words affected her. It was too late though and she clearly did see. Hermione looked away and Graces wondered if that was doubt she saw in the other girl's face. 

When the last of their things were gathered they began to leave the clearing. Hermione walked next to her this time instead of behind. They were a few feet when Graces from the corner of her eye saw Hermione about to look back.

“Don’t,” Graces snapped, grabbing the other girl’s arm violently. 

Hermione called out in pain, but Graces held her firmly. “Do. Not. Look. Back.”

Hermione’s lips pressed together tightly. “You do not believe all this rubbish. You can’t honestly.”

“I do,” Graces stated firmly.

“You honestly believe that there are evil spirits back there, that they are attracted to—”

“Keep your voice down,” Graces warned.

“You think they’re going to follow us back?” Hermione said flatly, raising a brow.

Graces bit the inside of her cheek. “You want to look back. You have a vague feeling something is behind you; you think logically there is nothing. We hear nothing behind us following, but yet you want to look back. You want to prove to yourself that there is no danger. And maybe there isn’t, but before you got here did you believe in ghosts? Poltergeists? Werewolves? Witches? All the things you were told weren’t real and just stories.”

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably. “Nothing has ever been proven to—”

“I know. I know it’s just legends, folklore, rituals with no founding truth to you, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t some truth hidden in there. Maybe it’s not an evil spirit, but maybe it’s something. These are not common flowers. Liquid luck isn’t made often for a reason. Few grow these, most are stumbled upon. The few that do grow these follow ritual.”

“Only because each generation taught them to,” Hermione pointed out.

Graces shook her head. “Don’t.”

“I don’t know why you’re so scared. If the legends are true it would only be me. If you don’t look then you will be fine. You’ll have a nice story about how the mudblood didn’t listen to you and got what she deserved.”

“Hermione,” Graces whispered. “Please.”

To Graces’ relief the other girl relented. They continued walking back towards the castle in silence. Hermione’s words played in her head with each step. She couldn’t be lying to herself. She told McGonagall, she told Sprout, her decision was made. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Draco. She didn’t even have a plan to tell Draco, or words rehearsed in her head for that moment. She told herself that she just wanted things to be right between the two of them and that once things became right she would know what to do and say. But nothing was right between her and Draco. Every interaction was so manually operated that she didn’t even feel like she was in her own body around him.

“I’m going to trust Neville.”

Graces paused in her thoughts. “Good.”

“I still don’t trust you.”

Graces took a deep breath. “I’m—I’m lazy in a way,” Graces admitted quietly, stopping at the edge of the forest so that they were still slightly surrounded by trees. “Maybe it’s because everything has always been handed to me. I’m very privileged and... the thought of my life changing, the life that I like, frightened me. Frightens me,” Graces amended. 

“Asking Neville to change, to come into my life was easier. I didn’t want to pay the cost of what being with him could be. That doesn’t mean I don’t think Neville is worth that cost,” she said evenly. 

Hermione looked openly torn as they stood there looking at one another. 

“I’ll trust Neville,” Hermione repeated, turning away and walking briskly back to the greenhouse. Graces stayed there at the tree line for a few moments.

She was tired. Every day she was growing more and more tired. She felt as though she were tumbling down a hole and grabbing at anything to try and get her to slow down. She couldn’t stop the fall, but that didn’t mean it had to hurt so bad when she hit the ground. No, not ground, water. This fall was just the beginning, once she stopped falling she would be submerged in water and forced to swim to shore. She had to tell Draco and from there she needed to do more work. But it didn’t feel right to do that now, it felt as though telling Draco now would just drown them both.

She didn’t want Hermione to be right, but she also wasn’t ready to prove her wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you all think! Or leave a kudo :) I hope you enjoyed the art and the chapter :) Also, I don't know if the site allows, but if you are able to zoom in on their faces there's a lot of added detail that you can't see at first looking.


	106. Chapter 106

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's been a while guy. Husband has been on nights for two months and the two year old is potty training. BUT he is off nights now for a while! Thank you to everyone for the wonderful reviews, they are so encouraging :D And of course a big thank you to Denarri for editing.

Thomas walked slowly through the halls of the house Graces had taken him to. Not because he was taking extra time to inspect the home he was to send what remained of his family to, but because he was slowly gathering his thoughts regarding the girl presenting it to him. She was now in so many ways a stranger to him. Draco had said so, but for a long time he didn’t want to believe that Graces had drifted away from them. How could it be that this person who had been the beating heart of their makeshift family didn’t belong to it anymore. 

“I know it isn’t grand,” Graces continued apologetically. “But it’s safe. The world can think your family is at the manor and they will in reality be tucked away here.”

Here. He didn’t even know where here was. They were port keyed directly outside the house. He didn’t even know if he was in the same country. When he asked about the portkeys, Graces had only said they were not registered and perfectly safe. Another oddity, he doubted Graces would have bribed a Ministry official, too much risk. Any favors would have been from dark wizards or witches, families that, if they thought the Malfoys were getting portkeys, would have instantly believed them to be betraying He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And if they weren’t Dark, if they were neutral, then coin could easily make for a betrayal. 

He wrinkled his nose at an obnoxiously purple room at the end of the hall. He turned to find a small, embarrassed smile ghosting over Graces face, before she met his eyes and turned the smile tight and nervous.

“Good thing there are other rooms,” she said with a small, brittle laugh, nervously twisting her hands.

He truly didn’t know this creature before him. He used to see Graces as so regal. In many ways she was so far above the rest of them in bearing that at times she didn’t feel real. When he was younger he used to feel so special that he was one of the very few she would smile down at. He could never have imagined her like this: unsure, scared, nervous and insecure. Graces Malfoy didn’t twist her hands nervously, she stood serenely, her eyes cool and calculating. He thought of how she stood before being tortured, but she twists her hands now?

He swallowed and closed his eyes. Formulating his next words in his head before he dared say them. He moved his lips and breathed the first word before actually beginning.

“Wh-whose house is th-this?”

Graces eyes turned downward.

“You couldn’t use a M-m-mmmalfoy property, cause Draco would b-be tuned in to the wards, and Draco d-d-doesn’t know of any of this. G-Graham would never have agreed. You couldn’t have b-b-bought the property without d-drawing attention. So, wh-whose home am I in?”

“A friend’s,” Graces said delicately. 

“This is m-my family. I will not r-risk their lives. I have to kn-know who I am trusting with what is l-left of my family, Graces.”

“I swear, Thomas, this person would never betray you, would never betray me. You are safer here than anywhere else.”

Thomas shook his head and turned away. He surveyed the walls, the floors, the furniture in the home. Everything was old, ordinary, nothing of taste or value, mostly functional. They weren’t rich. They weren’t rich, Dark, Neutral. Light... they had to be Light. Allowing a muggle to live in their home was something only a light family would agree to. He looked back at Graces and swallowed the tightness in his throat.

“It’s Neville L-Longbottom’s,” he whispered as though the name were a curse. In some ways it felt as though it were. He glared at Graces, unable to hide his own hurt and betrayal. She blinked at him, but just shook her head, as though she could change what they both knew to be true, as if she could find a way to make Thomas move away from his realization.

“That’s ridiculous, Thomas.”

No, it wasn’t. It was exceptionally obvious now that he thought about it all. Him and Graces fighting in the halls. Him insisting on being by her side when she was hurt. His silence in protecting her and Draco. He took that vow without a second thought. The tutoring, the game that he dressed in their colors, there was so much. Even him asking her out the way he did. He wanted to scream and cry all at once. 

“How c-could you?” he demanded quietly, staring at her.

“I didn’t.”

“I am s-standing in Neville L-Longbottom’s house, d-d-don’t tell me you didn’t!” Thomas roared. 

Graces jolted at his anger and for a moment looked as though she would try to hold firm on her lies. He glared at her challenging her to try it, to lie to his face again. 

“I deserve the t-truth,” he proclaimed, taking a step forward. “Do not insult me with another l-lie. How c-could you do this?”

“I love him,” Graces said, her face set determinedly, one tear betraying her and cascading down to her chin. 

“More than D-Draco? More than your m-mother? More than m-me?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“It’s a different kind of love,” Graces said. “I couldn’t—I tried, Thomas. I did. I tried so many times to keep away from him, but I couldn’t.”

Thomas couldn’t even take a breath as he tried to hide the signs of his heart openly breaking. Of all the things, he never would have thought she would do this. Not to him, not to Draco. She could kill them all with this kind of stupidity. Was one person worth all their lives? Was Neville Longbottom worth the carnage that would come?

“Say something,” Graces begged tightly.

Thomas closed his eyes and tried to swallow the lump in his throat, he felt suffocated by the weight of what she had put on him. “Are you g—Are you going to tell Draco? Or run away, l-leaving us in the wr-wreckage? How is this g-going to play out, Graces?”

“I’m not going to run away,” Graces whispered. “I will tell Draco I just—”

“When?” Thomas demanded.

“Soon.”

“And what then?” Thomas demanded. “Do you think we c-can just w-walk away? Do you think that my f-family, or your f-family, will be able to survive this? That you two c-can declare you’re in l-love and everyone will b-be s-safe? Even if Draco accepts this you have p-put a death s-sentence on all of us!”

Graces flinched at his words. “Neville and I would not do anything to put your lives at risk,” Graces stated, her words calm and careful. “We love each other, but we will not put you in danger. We are going to figure out what to do, but we will not allow anyone to be hurt. We—”

“You b-being together puts our lives at risk! N-Not to m-mention what it will do to Draco,” he added savagely. “This will destroy him!”

“He is doing everything in his p-p-power to save you, he has sold his s-soul just for you to have a chance at b-being safe! He doesn’t s-sleep, or eat all he does—”

“You think I don’t know all this?”

“You m-must n-not because you have abandoned him!”

“I have not!”

“You have!” Thomas cried. “You are ch-choosing N-Neville L-Longbottom over him. You have ch-chosen to leave him alone, to leave him to d-die alone. He has for months wanted you and n-needed you and you have been f-f-falling in love with N-Neville b-b-bloody L-Longbottom!”

“Did you enjoy your f-f-fairytale? Did you enjoy f-f-falling in love while your b-brother was left in mmm-misery?” Thomas asked scathingly. 

“You honestly think this was a fairytale for me?” Graces asked, aghast. “Neville was just survival. In the beginning he was—” Graces shook her head. “He was an escape. And then I fought tooth and nail for him to be nothing. I hurt him countless times, I hurt myself countless times, in order to not hurt Draco.”

“I went against every feeling, every instinct. I pushed him away time and time again. I gave him every reason to leave. But he didn’t,” she choked. “He couldn’t, just like I couldn’t keep away. We love each other and it is beyond us. We are powerless to it. And I could lie and say I would have chosen anyone over Neville, for a long time I even told myself that, but I can’t. I want Neville, I choose Neville. At the end of the day I love him and I want to be with him. I need to be with him or I will live the rest of my miserable life with such regret that it wouldn’t be worth living.”

“You would have Draco,” Thomas murmured in disbelief. 

“You’re telling me to hurt the man I love and myself rather than ask my brother to love me and accept us.” Graces took a shaking breath. “You’re asking me to live a lie.”

“I am asking you to s-stop what you are doing with L-Longbottom.”

Graces bit her lip and shook her head morose. “What’s so wrong with Neville Longbottom?”

“He's a b-b-blood traitor, he p-put your f-f-father in jail, he is on the opposite side of th-this war than your f-family, and, well, he’s b-beneath you. Listing him as an average s-skilled wizard is being k-kind.”

“I don’t care that he’s a blood traitor. I don’t even know how much weight I give that nonsense anymore. I think I still enjoy the privilege of being pure, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s correct,” Graces sniffed. “I despise the side of the war we are on. And I know that you do too,” she seethed. “How could you not? He slaughtered your family. He—”

“We’re n-not talking about my f-family,” Thomas said firmly. “We are discussing yours and how the b-bloke you are s-sleeping with has c-caused your family n-nothing but p-pain.”

“My family caused its own pain,” Graces snapped. “My father chose wrong and we are paying for it. All Neville did was the right thing.”

“I am in love with a kind, sweet—” Graces gestured to the house they were standing in. “—generous man. Who would do anything to keep me and mine safe. Who, when faced with difficult decisions, chooses the right thing, even if it is a high cost to him. I am in love with a man that would keep my secrets in order to protect the people I love. Who chooses kindness over violence. And I think him very skilled,” Graces added, her voice laced with a mixture of adoration and pride. 

“What more could I ask for? The qualities you listed, do you want that for me, Thomas? A Death Eater? Someone my father would accept, bear in mind my father didn’t bat an eye at torturing a fifteen year old boy. Someone who cares about blood purity, because the someone that cared about that would kill John, with no second thought,” Graces reminded. “Neville may not be the best at displaying his skills, but he has plenty. Enough to make me happy.”

“This isn’t you,” Thomas started shaking his head. “You should n-never—”

“I don’t know who I am, Thomas,” Graces declared tightly. “I am not real most of the time,” she said slowly, frowning at the thought. “I feel alive with Neville, I feel like a real person and not a shadow walking among the living.”

“My life, the one before, before—I don’t even know the event—it’s not my life anymore. It’s not where I belong and I can’t make myself into the person I was before. Nevermore. I will nevermore be that girl,” she murmured, her mind going to some memory or thought. 

Her grey eyes met his after a few moments and he knew it to be true. She was gone, the girl he knew all those years, she was not lost, she was gone. And now he faced a stranger that wore her skin, that held her memories, who fought her way out of some abyss that he didn’t know about to stand before him now. She was Graces and she wasn’t Graces. 

“What are you going to do?” she asked calmly, taking a seat on an old sofa.

He wanted to hate her. To wash his hands of her and pretend that she never meant anything to him. He wanted to tell Draco and Graham and move on from this. But he couldn’t get the image of her blood out of his mind or of her screams when she was tortured for him. She had guarded him from the moment he entered Hogwarts. How could he turn his back to her now? A thought resounded in his mind that maybe he did this to her, maybe he broke her.

“N-Nothing,” he whispered, bending his head down to hide his own tears. “I love you.”

“I love you. I could never b-betray you. I only have my life b-because of you. You saved my life and it is in your p-power to take it away,” he murmured solemnly. 

“Thomas—”

“We lost you,” Thomas whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking each breath with a renewed pain. “We lost you and we were b-blind to what was happening! We knew… we knew you weren’t right. Gods,” he cursed, unable to believe how much this was all hurting.

“Thomas, please.”

“You were n-never right after. You w-weren’t. You were d-different, you were. I s-saw it, Draco saw it and even Graham s-saw it and we just w-wanted to b-believe that you were okay, that you would come b-back and—”

“Stop.”

Graces looked away tearfully. He watched as her hand covered her mouth to hold in her sobs and he wished he wasn’t so helpless. He wished that he could find what it was inside her and heal it, bring her back from this ghost of a girl she was now. She had died and then they had been forced to watch her die again. He didn’t know her anymore and in some ways he felt as though he had betrayed her. She had slipped away from all of them.

“This is no one’s fault. This is love and this love made me strong in times I needed strength. It sheltered me when I couldn’t deal with the world around me. It held me when I pushed everything and everyone good away. And when I was broken, it forged something new of the pieces, something better,” she murmured. “I don’t want to be who I was before. I am grateful for who I am now, because who I am now is going to help your family. John included,” she said pointedly. “The girl I was before would have damned him and saved you and Octavian.”

Thomas didn’t know what to say or think. This wasn’t the world they lived in. Graces and Neville could not be together. It wasn’t safe. He thought of how many lives would be put at risk for this and he couldn’t justify it. And yet, he also didn’t want to deny her this. 

“Draco loves you so m-much. We all d-do,” he said slowly. “You could die for this, Graces. We all could. You say N-Neville and you wouldn’t do anything unless you could make us all s-safe, b-but I suspect you have no real c-concrete plan for that.”

“We are still figuring things out,” Graces admitted. “But Neville has made it very clear that he is fine with not being public, for as long as that is needed.”

“P-People will f-find out,” Thomas said warily. “And when the wrong p-person f-finds out—”

Graces bit her lip. “When the wrong person finds out your family will already be here and you will just have to portkey to them. I will make similar arrangements for Draco.”

“And you?”

“I know what bed I’ve chosen, I’m happy to lie in it.”

“You’re willing to die for N-Neville L-Longbottom?”

“I am willing to die for the chance to live a happy life with Neville. A life where I did the right things and not the things that were easy.”

“Draco will—”

“Neville believes that Draco will accept us.”

“Do you b-believe that?”

Graces didn’t answer.

“I don’t want him to kn-know I know,” Thomas stated firmly. “I don’t want to have to talk to him or thank him for this.”

“Neville and I don’t keep secrets,” Graces said quietly.

“No, you just keep s-secrets from everyone else you love.”

“You don’t have to talk to him or thank him. He wouldn’t want the latter anyways,” Graces grumbled tiredly. 

“I want—” Thomas paused and regained his momentum. “I want to go b-back to Hogwarts,” he demanded.

“Do you agree to this? To this house? The porkeys?”

“Yes.”

“And Neville being your secret keeper.”

Thomas scowled in disbelief.

“He insists. It’s his home, his responsibility and he wants to. He believes it is safest for everyone. No one would suspect him.”

“I don’t even kn-know him. How can I trust him to be my f-f-family’s secret keeper when I don’t kn-know him.”

“You know his character,” Graces reminded. “You know that Neville Longbottom will do what is right.”

“Fine.”

“Thomas,” Graces whispered, moving forward to touch his hand.

“Can we leave n-now?” Thomas snapped. “I’ve agreed to everything. I’ll keep your secrets and I’ll move my f-family tonight.”

“Thomas, please,” Graces begged. “We can talk more, we can—”

“What is th-there to talk about? You have c-c-clearly made your decision and I will not stand in the way or endanger you in your choices. You want N-Neville? F-Fine, but that does n-not mean I have to give my b-blessing or agree.”

“I just—I want you to understand.”

Thomas wondered how far away from reality Graces was. She had disappeared from them all for so long, but had she wrapped herself up so much in Neville that she truly couldn’t see reality. Did she not realize who he was talking to? His family was gone. He was left alone with a child he didn’t want and a Great Aunt who was a stranger. She had a family. Her brother was right there, she had the ability to hold him, touch him, talk to him and tell him daily that she loved him and she was going to risk his life, her family's life, for one person. 

“I don’t need to understand.”

“Thomas—”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he swore quietly. “I don’t, and I f-fear that this conversation will only hurt you and it will continue to p-pain me. I will keep your secrets. I will trust my f-family to be safe here. And th-though I disapprove, I still love you. Do n-not ask me more. I don’t want to understand, b-because in some ways that feels like I condone this. Don’t ask me to do such a thing to Draco.”

They left in silence. Graces couldn’t think of anything to say and it was clear Thomas did not want to hear more anyways. When they arrived back at the castle he walked away, each stride deliberate in bringing space between the two of them. She didn't follow him. She stood where she was, allowing him the space. He didn’t understand and she realized that no one could possibly understand. She barely understood, so how could she string words together that would speak to him?

The idea of Draco accepting this, accepting her now felt impossible. Her secrets, her love, would they be the things to ruin her? Was this all a mistake? Doubt began to slowly poison her mind. Draco was her blood; he was family. Was choosing Neville turning against herself? She looked at herself the way Thomas saw her and felt sick.

Young, stupid, foolishly in love for the first time and willing to throw away everything. Her life, her family, sacrificing everyone and everything for one person. She had no plan, she was acting blindly on feeling and feeling alone.

“Graces?”

Graces looked up from the ground to find Draco standing before her. They stood there outside the castle and her heart raced with worry and guilt. Did Thomas tell him? 

“Yes,” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“You left the castle.”

Graces blinked wildy. How did he know that? Thomas told. He had to have told, in the first few moments of being back he must have ran to Draco and—

“You're traced,” Draco reminded. “You allowed me to put a trace charm on you. You’ve left before too,” he sighed. “Where did you go?”

Graces opened her mouth and then closed it. On Valentine's day, he knew she had left Valentine's day as well. He had never said anything about it.

“The safe house.”

“Both days?” Draco inquired, his face not betraying any of his thoughts.

Graces shook her head. “Just today.”

Draco’s gray eyes flickered slightly with something, but Graces didn’t know what. What she did know was that he was standing before her and for many reasons the effect was similar to their mother. There was a calm composure to him, as though he were trying to meet with her as equals, but still held the authority. 

“Your secret, is it—”

“I’m not ready,” Graces said quickly, shaking her head and retreating a few steps back.

Draco’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “Thomas is not appropriate, for a number of reasons. Family standing aside, you have too much power in that relationship for it to ever be okay. I realize the age difference now won’t be significant years from now, but the dynamic will never be equal. Money, power, social status, family, all those things will contribute to him being oppressed under you. It’s almost predatory.”

“Thomas?” she repeated.

“I am assuming your secret is that you and Thomas are—”

“No, we’re not,” Graces swore, unable to believe that she was standing in front of Draco in this way.

“You just both disappeared out of Hogwarts today and Valentine's Day,” Draco stated dubiously.

“I don’t know why Thomas wasn’t here on Valentine’s Day, but I can assure you he wasn’t with me.”

Draco was silent for a moment, his eyes studying her carefully. She felt small beneath his stare and the longer his gray eyes bored into her the more she felt as though he could see everything she was hiding. He glanced away, more out of frustration and exhaustion, as though just looking at her for too long was difficult. She looked down. She supposed they had that in common.

“You won’t tell me, because you are afraid of losing me. But you lose me more every day you don’t,” he whispered.

She looked up at his words, but Draco was already walking away from her. She knew she should follow, that she should confess it all now, but she once again could not. Thomas’ words and Granger’s spread through her head like poison, seeping into every corner of her mind where hope had resided. 

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Graham was still unsure of what he was doing here. He had tried to ignore Wamil’s requests to meet. He had even gone as far as to not open the letters she was sending, but when she cornered him in a hall between classes and physically handed him the letter he couldn’t ignore her any longer. He waited in the room more attuned to his heart pounding in his chest than anything else. He didn’t know what to say, what he should or could say. Nothing was better, because nothing could change.

He stood there thinking about how she handed him her last note, the determination etched in her face, the fire in her eyes and betrayal the last emotion she allowed to come through. 

“So you sleep with me then ignore me?” she asked, her voice tight with emotion.

Graham closed his eyes and let out a breath. “I was always clear; I never left you under any delusion regarding… us.”

Wamil glared at him. “Do you have any idea how this week has felt to me?”

“What do you want me to say, Wamil?” he asked, his voice weighted with all of his burden and regret. “I’m sorry? You know I am. I was sorry for the beginning. I’m sorry for it all.”

“I am too,” Wamil breathed, looking down at the floor as a few tears escaped her. He wanted to reach out and brush them away, but he knew better. Why prolong the inevitable? Wamil took a shaking breath. “I’m pregnant.”

Graham felt as though the floor dropped from under him. He was falling down into an abyss and he couldn’t breathe or think. He hardly recognized what was happening to him. He stood there trying to make sense out of her words. “No, no you can't be.”

“I am,” Wamil declared, her voice slightly stronger.

“But... but you’re on the potion.”

“Why would you think that?” Wamil asked, her brow slightly furrowed.

Graham flushed. “I—well you and the—you said you and the Ravenclaw had—”

Wamil’s eyes fluttered with understanding. “Oh, erm, no. David is muggleborn, so we used rubbers.”

There was a long silence in which Graham waited for her to explain and when no explanation came he flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. 

“I clearly don’t know what those are,” he snapped angrily, gesturing for her to continue. Wamil delicately explained and he stood there feeling even more foolish. “Why didn’t you ask me to use one? Or tell me to use the damn spell!”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking,” Wamil snapped back. “And excuse me, but I don’t believe you were asking any questions that night either.”

Graham cursed and turned away. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to stop breathing like a wild beast. He felt sick. His whole body was on fire and his stomach kept threatening to come up out of his throat. His heart was beating so rapidly he could hear it and no other thoughts could drown out the noise of it in his mind.

He closed his eyes and damned himself. “Do you have any moral qualms with ending the pregnancy?”

He didn’t dare turn around to see Wamil’s reaction. He stared at one spot on the wall and inwardly braced himself.

“I don’t.” Wamil sniffed. “But I’m not going to.”

Graham’s face fell at her words and before he could stop himself he was crying. He turned to her. 

“This is my fault. I know this is my fault. But, Wamil, I beg you, please don’t have this baby. Please, you have no idea what is to come.”

“I just wanted you to know,” Wamil said, dismissing everything he had. “You don’t have to be involved. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Damn you! I can’t be involved can I?” Graham lashed out angrily, slamming his hand against the wall. “I’m a bloody Death Eater. If anyone found out—” Graham stopped. “I couldn’t be involved. There is no choice in this for me.”

“Of course there is,” Wamil wept. “We can go away together. You can leave all of this. You could stand with me!”

“And what about my sisters? What of their children?” Graham demanded. “What of them? If I break away he will kill them. How can I walk away from my family like that? ”

“How can you walk away from your child like that?” Wamil countered.

“If you go through with having this child it is far safer not being associated with me. If you do this you will have to do it alone. If I leave they hunt me down, and if they hunt me down and find me with a child—” Graham stopped. He didn’t want to even consider that scenario. “Merlin, Wamil, what did you think would happen? That you would tell me and I would be able to walk away from everything and be with you? That we would be together and get married and raise this child as if there wasn’t a war going on?”

Wamil swallowed. “Well, like I said, we don’t need you. I have a good family,” she whispered more to herself than to him. “My parents love me and they will help and my brothers are all older and they will help me too. And I’m still going to graduate, no one need know.”

“You think that’s all there is?” Graham asked, shaking his head. “They... they are going to go after anyone who is muggleborn. The Ministry is going to fall, Wamil. There are too many players in that system working to bring it down. And then they will go after anyone interbred and kill them. Do you understand what I am saying to you? It will be a mass genocide. How will you survive that pregnant or with a baby? How will you get away?”

“I don’t need to get away. I will fight.”

“Fight pregnant? Fight with a baby on your hip?” Graham challenged in dismay.

“I will take care of the baby, he or she will be safe. I—”

“I don’t give a damn about the baby.” Graham snarled in frustration. “I care about you! I want you to be safe! I want you to be okay! You are here! You’re alive now! Damn it, Wamil, think about yourself! How are you going to get out? How will you survive? Your name is on a list! It’s there, they don’t even know you're a siren, they are going to kill you for being mixed with veela. You are not some abstract in a grand scheme, you’re listed!”

For a brief moment she had the reaction he wanted. Her eyes widened in fear and panic struck her features as true understanding came. He expected her to ask questions, to want to know how and why, but she asked nothing. Her eyes were turned inward to her own thoughts and memories as she digested what it was he had told her. She hardened herself in that moment before looking up at him with the same determination that made him fall for her in the first place.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Wamil said steadily. “I will be fine.”

“No, you won’t. They are going to have mercenaries hunting you down. These people they don’t—they enjoy what they do. Please don’t do this,” Graham begged. 

“It’s done,” the other girl maintained, staring up at him, her face blank from emotion. “We’re done.”

Graham balked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean we’re done. There is no need for us to be in contact with one another. As far as I am concerned this baby is mine and mine alone. I am not going to tell anyone you are the father and you do not need to be in my life or this child’s life. Nothing happened between us, it never was.”

“Wamil—” Graham moved to touch her, but she tore herself away.

“Let’s not make this harder than it has to be,” she said quietly. “I don’t hate you, I’m not mad at you. I knew from the moment I saw your arm what your choice was and I still wanted something.” Wamil shook her head, as if she could see her past self’s mistakes before her eyes. “And I didn’t think you would choose me after finding this out. Not really,” she whispered. “I just felt you should know.”

“Do you think I don’t want to choose you?” Graham asked, hurt despite himself. “That I don’t want to be with you?”

“Honestly, Graham, I don’t know if I want you to choose me. I don’t know if I want to be with you. I think I am holding on to the person I think you could be and not the person you are. I’ve romanticized you to the point where I don’t see reality. A few good moments and I ignore the rest. Part of me is relieved you want nothing to do with this child, that you don’t care about it, because I don’t want my child thinking that being like you is okay. I don’t want them to grow up knowing their father was a Death Eater. I don’t want to justify that to my child. I can’t. Time and time again you have made the wrong choice. And if actions make a person, you are not a person I want to be raising a child with me.”

When Graham was eight he and his family had all gone to the beach. His sisters had all stopped swimming at some point and decided to lay out and take a nap in the sun, but he wanted to keep swimming. Melantha, one of his middle sisters, had said she would watch him. And from everything he knew about the day she had, she just didn’t recognize what it looked like when a child was drowning. She had thought if he needed help he would shout or scream for it, she didn’t know that all his efforts were being put into getting another breath of air before another wave of water drowned him. By the time she realized he had been so desperate for air that he was breathing in salt water, making things worse because in his head it was the only thing he could think to do for the chance of air. He remembered bits and pieces of it all before he passed out, the burning in his lungs, the sinking feeling that came with the knowledge that no one was coming to help him, the desperation he had to survive and how the world itself was putting all it’s effort into ending him. 

He felt like that now. He was drowning, only right now he didn’t want help. He stared down at Wamil and knew everything she was saying was true and that she probably had more to say, but was too kind to say it. 

“Goodbye, Graham.”

He was left there in the silence of all the things he didn’t say and do. He wanted to go after her, tell her that he would figure something else out, but instead he went to the Room of Requirement where Draco was. Duty above all. The blonde looked up and acknowledged his presence before continuing on in his task. Graham sat down with an assortment of books and dived into reading. When his mind drifted to Wamil and his current situation, he reminded himself that Draco could die too and wasting his time thinking about a hopeless situation would not save his friend.

It will damn you forever to her. If she finds out you helped with this. If Draco succeeds with your aid.

Graham swallowed. It didn’t matter, she will damn him forever at some point for something he’s done. Or maybe he should just consider himself damned. If Wamil knew what part he was playing he was sure she would despise him. Either way there would be a point where she would hate him, if she didn’t already, so he may as well try and help Draco. Besides he didn’t think he could live with himself if he didn’t.

The sound of a chair scraping against stone turned his attention back to the present. Draco slowly took a seat across from him at the withered desk he was sitting at, his gray eyes calmly taking in his appearance. Draco tilted his head slightly as though he saw something and then with a long suffering sigh demanded to know what was wrong.

“Nothing,” Graham murmured, unable to muster the enthusiasm to make his voice sound believable. 

Draco’s eyes narrowed and Graham could see the spark of his ill temperament for a moment on his face, before he seemed to restrain the dragon inside of him.

“Is there something so wrong with me that you feel you cannot trust me? What flaw is it that you see, that Graces sees, where I cannot be trusted?”

Graham flinched at his words, knowing Draco deserved more, but unable to give it.

“Why is it that you think there is a flaw in you and not in us? Perhaps it is not so much your flaw we are concerned with but the flaw in ourselves, and revealing such a flaw to you will only prove what we know already. Telling you only solidifies our own weakness in character. Not telling you allows us the ability to pretend we are something we’re not,” Graham ended, turning his eyes away from Draco lest he actually find out what it was he was hiding.

Draco made a noise of impatience. “I am tired of talking in riddles, Graham. I want to know what is going on and I know something is going on because you look as though you will be sick at any moment.”

Graham just shook his head. “Maybe I’m sick,” he murmured flatly.

“Maybe you’re full of shit,” Draco snapped, slamming his hand against the desk. “I demand to know what is going on with you.”

“Why? You can’t help me. No one can help me. And telling you will only ruin your opinion of me and put you in danger.”

Draco stilled at his words, but didn’t seem to back down from his demand. His face held a cautious curiosity to it. “I’m in danger anyways,” he said, leaning back against the chair and crossing his arms. “Nothing you tell me will make me in any less or anymore. So you may as well tell me.”

Graham felt his stomach twist and the insane urge to give in to this madness and lay bare everything about him and Wamil. But the thing about secrets, and long held secrets, is that sometimes it becomes an odd part of who you are. So telling of your sins will give no absolution because the confession itself does not take away that part of you. Loving Wamil had been a secret for so long that in an odd way it felt like a side of him that no one saw. Even Wamil didn’t have the full vision of it. He used to tell himself he was insane and that there was no way to love a girl he barely knew and that this was an infatuation that had gotten out of hand. But he knew that wasn’t so. He couldn’t tell Draco about this because it would reveal too much of himself, and that was without mentioning the danger it could pose to Wamil.

And my child.

“I can’t,” he whispered heavily, the back of his throat burning with all his regrets. 

Draco shook his head in a mixture of anger and weariness. “Is there a financial way out of your mess?”

Graham scowled. “What?”

“Could gold make it better or help the situation?”

Graham’s mind didn’t seem to understand what it was Draco was saying. He sat there staring at the blonde as if he had gone mad, which irritated Draco further.

“I’m offering you money,” Draco stated firmly. “I don’t know what it is that is going on but I know that usually there is a tendency for money to be useful in most all situations.”

“I can’t take your money,” Graham scowled, bewildered at the thought.

“Why? You had no problems taking it before,” Draco pointed out.

“That was different,” Graham flushed.

“Sentimental about me now?” Draco scoffed, raising a brow.

Graham gritted his teeth. “That was a quid pro quo affair. You were gaining something out of me. It wouldn’t be right now.”

“You help me a lot. Consider payment.”

“I do that because I am your friend,” Graham growled. “I don’t want money for it.”

“Well, I am giving you money because you are mine and I want to help you. So take it,” Draco said simply. 

“Draco,” Graham said slowly with much mustered patience. “Believe me when I tell you that you would not approve of how this money would be spent. I cannot take money from you and knowingly use it for something that you would disapprove of.”

Both Draco’s brows went up and he had this smug amusement on his face that made Graham want to stand up and punch him.

“I would not approve?” he asked, his voice telling how scandalous he found this. “Well, if I would not approve, I take it your mother and father would not. And considering, though you took the patriarchy from your father, you didn’t further embarrass him by closing the family vaults to him, I believe you wouldn’t want to take a large sum out lest he follow the gold or inquire what is going on. If I don’t approve, your father definitely will not.”

“And your personal accounts are probably sparse,” Draco continued. “I mean, I don’t think even with what Graces and I gave you and your own money from your trust that you have much left. Starting a business is a lot of money and you didn’t start small, you went quite large. Hired many, bought a building, and dove right in. Your profit margin couldn’t have replaced the salaries alone you started people on when nothing was coming in.”

“The business is not in trouble,” Graham said with dangerous quietness. “This isn’t about that.”

“No, I didn’t think it was,” Draco said slowly. “You think I don’t check up on it myself? I don’t want my sister marrying into a failed endeavour.” Draco shrugged, as if it was a totally normal thing for him to worry about. “The thing is, Graham, I know you don’t have much in your personal vault and now I know you can’t take it from the family without inquiries. So take it from me. If it helps you I want you to.”

“I don’t want this being traced to you either,” Graham pointed out. He tried to put away the temptation to take money from the boy in front of him, but he couldn’t stop thinking of all the ways he could get Wamil and her family out if he had it. He could try again to set her up with a new life and identity somewhere far away, he could even get a house for her somewhere far far away. His mind was racing with all the possibilities. 

“You know one thing you haven't said, Graham,” Draco said quietly, breaking his thoughts so he turned and looked upward at him. “You haven't said money wouldn’t help.”

Draco picked up a spare quill and a piece of paper. “My family has some muggle accounts, we have—” He paused and teetered his head back and forth. “—a very old deal with one of the muggle churches. We get a considerable amount of money from them. Obviously, we are not advertising this,” he said, giving him a pointed look. “I am going to set you up a muggle account. No one needs to know. And the money won’t be traced to me.”

Draco slid the paper over to him and Graham gawked at the amount written. “How much money does your family have?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Enough to where no one would even notice that amount being gone,” Draco admitted. 

“I can’t take this,” Graham said thickly. 

“I’ll make the account regardless,” Draco shrugged. “And I have no plans on ever looking into whether it was used or not. So you take it and make good use of the money, or it just sits in a muggle bank forever.”

Graham shook his head. “If you knew why I needed this you would despise me. You would cast me off. You would possibly even wish me dead and then follow through with making it happen.”

Draco looked at him sternly before leaning over the desk so that his eyes were so close Graham could see the odd specs of blue that flickered in the gray.

“I will never hate you. Maybe I would disapprove, but I could never hate you. Nor would I cast you out. And I certainly would not want or allow you to die,” Draco swore. “I am not one who cares for many, I care for few and most of the people that I want to keep my company are those who are of use to me, you are not in the latter category. You are my friend, for no reason other than I care deeply about you. The only thing, the one singular thing you could do to make me hate you, is refuse to take care of Graces should I die. Anything else you do may not have my approval, but still guarantees you my affection.”

“And if this mistake that I made puts her in danger? What then?” Graham challenged, his voice tight with emotion. “If I marry her and years later it comes to rear its head and she’s in danger then, what do you think then?”

Draco still held his eyes and he searched for something there before declaring. “I’ve put her in danger. My father put her in danger. I would even say my mother put her in danger. I would say you did the best you could and that you are human, just as we are. I can forgive that.”

Graham felt as though something inside him broke at those words. As if he had absolution for all that he had done. He hadn’t realized just how scared he was of Draco hating him should something happen. He wouldn’t allow anything to, he would keep his words and keep Graces safe, but knowing that Draco wouldn’t hate him made some part of him feel better. He wept silently into his hand and wished to be alone, but Draco remained near. His hand quietly on the other boy's shoulder.

He still wouldn’t tell him. He wasn’t going to risk Wamil, nor was he going to put Draco in such a position to be openly conspiring to save people against the Dark Lords’ wishes, but he felt at least in that moment like he could tell Draco. 

“You should say all this to Graces.”

“Graces should know.” Was Draco’s only reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to kudo/bookmark/ review!!!
> 
> Also, fanart was a gift from Drew Winchester. She was sweet enough to offer to draw OCs on instagram and I thought the gesture was so generous and thoughtful I offered to write her a one shot for being so kind. So keep an eye out for a one shot of her OC Audrey and Neville on my page. One thing I love about the writing fanfiction is the community. The readers who support people's writing, fan artisits helping to bring scenes and characters to life, betas who edit work for writers, and I am happy that I could give back to Drew and give her a quick one shot based on one of her pieces of art.
> 
> If you get the chance please look her up on instagram drewwinchester and give her some love for this. She posted it a few weeks ago it's under 7oc and if you scroll through this is in here :D


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